#the lighting in this show is certainly a Choice that drives me closer to violence every day

[cherryjuicegf]

i know it's over, still i cling

francesca - hozier / francis forever - mitski / the bomb - florence + the machine / wild blue yonder - the amazing devil / i will - mitski

[beyondspaceandstars]

While You Sleep

Chapter 9

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: N/A, just fluff this time! Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: yes i really used some cliche scenes expected from a bucky fic but come on you have to, right?)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

If you thought you were scared before your first encounter with Bucky, your feelings as you got ready for this date were unbelievable. 

The pressure really felt on this time. 

In the anxiety of nervousness and self-doubt, you had bought a whole new outfit for this date. You stood in the mirror, checking yourself over as you adorned a lovely knee-length, flowy dress. It had little flowers decorated all over it. The fabric was soft and comfortable, easing worries just a bit more - if you felt good, all would go good, right? The entire thing was complimented by a new pair of flats. You even spent more time on your make-up, making sure everything was just right and accentuating all your features pleasantly. 

The more you did, the better you felt, until you realized there was no more to do. Once your hair was laid gently over your shoulder in a cascading braid, you had to face the fact that it was almost game time. Glancing over, your clock told you Bucky would be here any minute.

Still, back at the mirror, you couldn’t help yourself from fidgeting. You tweaked your braid, fixed the invisible wrinkles on your dress, even reconsidered your lipstick color choice… But then it happened. Your phone’s ringtone sang throughout your room, giving you a jumpscare. You had to take a deep breath before crossing the space and answering the call. Bucky’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hi, Bucky,” you said.

“Hi, doll,” Bucky responded, a little sing-songy tone in his voice. His cheeriness was practically contagious through the phone. Your heart fluttered. “I’m outside whenever you’re ready.”

“O-Okay,” you sputtered out, letting out a cough to cover it but it didn’t work well as Bucky let out a light chuckle at your nerves. You chose to ignore it and continued, “I’ll be down in a second.”

“Alright,” he said. “See you soon.” The line disconnected. You sighed, gripping your phone probably too tightly. Closing your eyes, you inhaled then exhaled, centering yourself, letting your pounding heart come down. 

One last look in the mirror and you realized that it was game time. There were no more preparations you could make. Your soulmate was waiting downstairs and off you went to get swept away.

Bucky wasn’t the only thing that greeted you when you exited the apartment building. He was standing by a taxi, one arm leaning against it like it was the world's most romantic chariot. A smile broke out on your lips as you approached him. 

“Good evening.”

Bucky gave a nod, “Good evening.”

He kept staring at you, taking you in fully and shamelessly. You blushed under his focused eyes and quickly looked away. Motioning towards the taxi, you said, “Is this our ride for the night?”

Now he was smiling as well. “Just to get us there.”

You hummed, interested. “Where is ‘there?’”

“Gotta get in the taxi and find out, sweetheart,” Bucky said with a proud smirk as he opened the door. He extended his arm out dramatically, motioning for you to slide in. You mumbled a shy thank you, still feeling your blushing was out of control and got comfy in the cab. 

Once Bucky was also settled in, he leaned in very close to the driver and whispered the destination. You pretended not to notice but had to admit, he sure was sticking to the whole surprise thing. It made you feel quite giddy inside knowing he was going through all this just to surprise you. To give you a (hopefully) nice date. 

Once the taxi driver understood the address, Bucky leaned back and the drive began. You stared out the window, watching your neighborhood pass by, as you tried to ignore Bucky still staring at you. It was like he was really focused on you like he was searching for something. It made you feel all kinds of warmth under your dress. 

“You look beautiful,” Bucky finally said, breaking the backseat silence. Your heart that was once pounding suddenly was going a million miles an hour. Uncontrollably, you whipped your head to look at Bucky. You met his eyes which were looking at you with such wonder and longing. Oh yeah, it was getting warm in this taxi, you thought.

“Thank you,” you said, shyly. You still didn’t understand where this nervous, antsy of you was coming from. You had been around him plenty of times, even had a bit of a fight that night in your fucking apartment, but now this was what you were scared of? A date? You had to shake your head to literally shake off the nerves, something that was becoming a habit of you now. 

Eventually, you forced yourself to add on to the conversation, “You look great, as well.” And that certainly was the truth. Bucky had cleaned up nicely. His hair was slicked back casually. He wore a soft sweater and black slacks. The outfit was paired with dress shoes. The entire look just felt… Classic but in the best way. In a way that was Bucky at heart. 

You two fell into silence again but it was more comfortable, like Bucky’s words had hidden messages telling you to calm down. This was just another date, as couples do, and you two had been through crazy stuff - cough, cough… the fucking apartment showdown. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, you thought, but it sure felt hostile in the moment.

Moments later, the taxi stopped outside some… dance hall? You peered up at the sign, quizzically. You had no idea these places even existed anymore. This was already turning out to be the most unique you had ever been on but it wasn’t like you had been on many. 

You were about to get out when Bucky stopped you. Confused, you watched him run around the front of the taxi and stop at your door. He opened it for you, as any gentleman would. He offered you his hand and helped you out. After paying for the cab, he came back to join you, offering his arm for you to take.

“Dancing?” You asked as you two walked towards the entrance. “You’re taking me dancing?”

There was a faint blush creeping up on Bucky’s neck. “I am,” he said. “Back in the day, when I wanted to woo a girl I took her dancing. I hope that’s okay with you.”

You giggled, “Yeah, it’s...” Your words abruptly stopped as you were suddenly hit with the realization: you didn’t fucking know how to dance. Even in your own time period, you couldn’t be thrown out anywhere expecting to bust some moves. Your feet stopped moving before you could enter the hall.

Bucky turned to you, concerned. “Everything okay, sweetheart?” 

You wouldn’t look at him and instead looked past him, through the clear doors of the dance hall, watching the couples spin and twirl about. “I don’t know how to dance.”

Bucky waved a hand in dismissal and continued walking. “There’s no need to worry, doll,” he said as he opened the door for you. “You can follow my lead and you’ll be just fine, okay? I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as Bucky placed a hand on your lower back, leading you around the hall. The music was loud, more on the big band side, though. You saw up-close now as the couples flung each other around, laughing in awe at one another. There was a bar off at one end where patrons moved around it with beverages. The place was fairly crowded as well, something you didn’t really peg Bucky for being enthusiastic about, but his face lit the second you two walked in. There was something like a sense of familiarity in his eyes.

You didn’t comment on it, though, and instead took his arm again, letting him guide you to the bar first. You were silently thankful, hoping a nice drink would loosen you up - at least, enough to actually get you on the dance floor. 

Bucky ordered for you two which you actually appreciated. Part of you enjoyed seeing him take charge like this. Plan the date, open your door, order a drink you might like… The care of it all made your heart sing. 

Retrieving the drinks, he handed you one. You thanked him as you took the drink and looked it over. The drink was something dark poured over ice. An orange peel and cherry bobbed in the liquid, next to the ice. You sipped it, letting the taste of whiskey and orange essence hit your tastebuds. 

“It’s lovely,” you said and took another sip. For as nice as it was, you weren’t exactly well versed in cocktails. “What is it?”

“An old fashioned,” Bucky answered as he took his own sip of the drink, letting himself lean in closer to you as you two stood at the bar. He still watched you with a curious intensity that made your skin all kinds of heated. “I-I’m glad you like it.”

A silence fell over you two once more as you sipped your drink and let your gaze wander back to the dancing pairs. They moved so majestically and vibrantly across the hardwood floor. Engrossed with one another, trusting as they spun about. You had to admit, it did look quite fun. 

“Up for a bit of a dance after this, doll?” Bucky drawled, a hint at what sounded like a little Brooklyn accent peaked out, making you grin. He must’ve been absolutely transported back in time and you were so thankful you could be there with him. 

You took a drink, probably more than you should’ve in one gulp, and said, “Maybe if this drink kicks in soon I’ll let you show me a few moves.” You smiled to yourself. “That is, assuming you still have moves.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows at you as he stared at you above his glass. “Excuse me?”

You giggled, “Well, you’ve got a few years in you. Just want to make sure you can show a gal a good time.”

Bucky scoffed and then, without any other warning, he grabbed your drink from your hands. Slamming both the glasses on the bar counter, he gripped your hand in his and dragged you out to the floor. You shuffled to keep up, giggling loudly at the fire you had sparked within him. It was amazing what a little banter could do to him. Once he picked an area, the band began playing a new song and Bucky fell into the rhythm quickly. 

You stared, a bit stunned watching him move. But Bucky wouldn’t let you just stand there for long. Getting into the beat, he grabbed both your hands and began instructing you on the steps. Thankfully, it wasn’t as serious as you thought it would be. This was just a dance hall, after all. Everyone was too caught up in their own lovers to pay attention to others. You watched his feet intensely, as you kicked and stomped, feeling a bit clunky but Bucky, you glanced at him every now and then, was watching you with a hint of pride in his eyes. 

Suddenly, he decided to get daring and spun you out, quickly pulling you back into his arms. You let out a laugh, enjoying the spontaneous move of it all and reveling in the feeling of his arms around you. Following that, you fell back into the rhythm. As you got more confident, you could actually look at Bucky better and saw he looked just as pleased and excited as you were. You felt you two had melted into the crowd well despite you feeling like a sore thumb. 

The twirling was probably your favorite and you were very pleased with your dress choice. As he moved you, it would flare just slightly around your thighs, making you feel like fabric just drifting in the wind. Bucky seemed to like it as well as his hands felt like they made a point to never leave your body, always prying and begging for you close. 

Eventually, after a couple of upbeat songs, the music turned down, now on the more slow side. Bucky, however, seemed very prepared for this as he pulled you into his body without a second thought. His hand landed on your lower waist, your front pressed to him securely. His metal hand was entangled with yours, lifted away from your bodies, as you two moved in a small circle. 

You and Bucky finally really locked eyes for what felt like really the first time in the entire dancing sequence. His eyes looked at you so softly, so in total awe. Maybe there was even a hint of admiration just lurking, you noted. You felt yourself blushing intensely, but then again, when weren’t you like that around Bucky?

Bucky eventually spoke. “You were a natural, sweetheart.”

You shrugged, a small smile on your lips. “I think I just had a really awesome teacher.”

“Oh, yeah?” He grinned. “He must’ve been great. Taught you some nice moves.”

“Mhm,” you nodded, “he’s the absolute best. Really good-looking as well. That’s a nice bonus.”

“You’re making me blush, doll.”

“Good. That’s how I get all the time around you. It’s time you had a taste of your own medicine.”

Bucky threw his head back, letting out a loud laugh. “Really, honey?” His eyes met yours again. You jumped at the new pet name. It felt so much more...domestic. “I make you blush? Make you feel a bit warm?” His tone got lower as it was just above a whisper. A shiver ran up your spine. 

You bit your lip, contemplating how far this was going to go. “You make me feel many things, Bucky. Good things.”

His grin had turned to a full teasing smile now. He didn’t respond, though, just nodded with a mischievous expression now coming across his features. You were going to ask what he was thinking about when the music stopped and the band announced they would be taking a break. It sounded like Bucky let out a sigh of relief as he promptly took your hand and began leading you off the dance floor.

“You hungry, doll?” He asked, stopping next to the exit, hands in his pocket now, looking all casual. But the casualness was a nice cover, you thought, as his expression held everything but unsuspecting. 

You hummed. “I could go for something.”

He nodded, still smiling. “I planned to cook you dinner. Is that alright?”

You gasped, “I get to go to your apartment now?”

He laughed as he took your hand again, now leading you out of the dance hall. You two began making your way down the street, hands gripped tightly together. 

“You will get to see my apartment but fair warning, it’s nothing special.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, like mine was a real looker.”

“At least yours looks lived in.”

You looked up at Bucky quickly, mouth open now as if you wanted to say something but you didn’t really know what. He wouldn’t look back at you now and instead just kept leading you to presumably his apartment building. You turned your sights back on the sidewalk, watching the cars and people rush around in the nighttime landscape of the city, as you let Bucky guide you. 

It was a fairly nice area he lived in, an estimated taxi ride away from you. The area was really bustling with people now and there were shops and eateries galore to browse. You glanced in the windows as you passed, watching others mingle about and eat their dinners. 

Eventually, Bucky stopped in front of a building and pulled open the door. He let you in first, still ever so the gentlemen despite you not knowing where the hell you were going. Neither of you dwelled on this though as Bucky took your hand again and led you to his apartment. You felt yourself getting antsy the closer you got but you didn’t understand why. As much as you wanted your flirting to get you a little bit somewhere, this was dinner. A nice lovely dinner with your soulmate. One that he planned to cook. (Could he actually cook, though? You debated this as you went.)

Bucky unlocked the door and let you in. Sadly, he wasn’t too far off from the comment about it not looking lived in. There wasn’t… much of anything. There were the essentials - kitchen, couch, stools, television - but nothing that screamed Bucky. Or that he even actually stepped foot in here. 

But you weren't about to say any of this. You lingered by the kitchen counter. “It’s cozy.”

Bucky chuckled, “Thanks for trying, doll.”

You frowned. “I-I mean it. It’s nice. Clean and… and formal.” Well, you thought, what could you expect from a former soldier?

Bucky raised his eyebrows, though, not buying it. 

“Alright,” you sighed, “it could use maybe some personal touches but your space is your space. Who am I to judge when mine looks like it's falling apart?”

“Yours has personality,” Bucky shrugged as he slowly took steps towards you. You were leaning against the counter now, arms crossed watching him approach. 

“That means it's a trainwreck.”

He smirked, “It means it fits you and I like you, so, naturally, I’m going to like your apartment.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “You like me?” You asked and winced at your words. Apparently, you were having a hard time growing out of this silly schoolgirl crushing phase. 

Bucky nodded, now pretty close, staring you down. One hand came to rest on the counter beside you, slightly trapping you in. “I do like you.”

You couldn’t get over how close he was now. Even during your slow dance, you don’t think he was like… this. Towering, confident. Your eyes flicked to his inviting lips quickly before returning back to his eyes. They held amusement and… Was that a hint of amorousness in them? Your pulse was racing.

“Enough to make me dinner?” You let out a breathy chuckle, trying your hand at humor to figure out what was going on here. You didn’t mean to be practically dismissing these advancements but you also couldn’t believe they were happening. You thought it was just some sweet back and forth in the dance hall, a possible side effect of the adrenaline from dancing getting to you two. But, no. This fact was simple. Bucky wanted you. 

“You know,” he sighed, “I don’t think I’m really hungry.”

“Oh?”

“At least not for dinner.”

You were barely able to let out a gasp at his confirmation before Bucky’s lips were on yours, hot and heavy.

[theclockworkmonk]

Title: Intermission

Summary: During the intermission of "The Boy in the Iceberg," Zuko and Toph are fed up with Aang and Katara's drama.

Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

For Throwback Thursday, thought I'd post the first fanfic I ever wrote, back in August of 2013 (so excuse how...not good it is). The way Katara goes from rejecting Aang to kissing him with zero conversations in between always bothered me, so I wrote this scene that could have been a deleted scene in the episode, and to this day the type of fanfic I'm most drawn to is "missing" scenes that would have improved an aspect of the story. So awkward writing is what sucked me down this rabbit hole.

******

"Ow! What was that for?" Zuko rubbed his arm, suspecting a bruise would probably form.

Toph just smiled innocently. "That's how I show affection," she said as if she had just baked him a cake instead of physically assaulted him.

Zuko was glad Toph hadn't been with Aang, Katara, and Sokka back when he was chasing them on their way to the North Pole. They had given him enough bruises, lacerations, and concussions on their own. If Toph had been there, he'd probably still be eating through a straw.

"So, anyway, do you know where Aang is? I'm starting to worry. I told Sokka that this play wasn't worth the risk."

Toph just frowned, "Why are you asking me? In case you haven't noticed, this whole place is made out of the evil substance known as wood."

"I thought maybe you would know because he told you. Ya know, that's how the rest of us keep track of where people are."

"That sounds like a hassle," Toph said casually with a finger digging in her ear, "Anyway, Twinkle Toes is probably in the same place as Sugar Queen."

Zuko groaned for what seemed like the 12th time tonight. "Good. Maybe with them alone together they'll finally clear the air and allow the rest of us to move on with our lives."

"Hey, at least you just got here. Meathead and I have had to endure this drama for months."

"I honestly don't understand what their thinking is," Zuko sighed with his head in his hands, "At least you have the excuse that Sokka has a girlfriend."

Zuko saw Toph scowl a scowl that would even put Azula to shame. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, and unless you want a more symmetrical face, you don't either."

Zuko rolled his eyes, "Whatever. I was surprised to find out they weren't official yet by the time I got here. Especially after Katara straight up threatened to kill me if I looked at him wrong."

"Wait, what now? You serious?"

"Yeah, it was the first night I spent at the Air Temple."

"Nah, she was bluffing."

"Toph, I grew up with Azula. I got pretty good at spotting lies. Katara meant every word she said. And it got even worse when I would try to train Aang. He would always make up some excuse about how he needed to practice more waterbending, even though he's been working on that almost a year."

Toph grunted in agreement, "You don't need to tell me. Just as I was about to break through his earthbending block, Her Sweetness comes in all 'Oh, don't worry, it's okay, we can practice waterbending. Come on, let's go splash around in our underwear.'"

"Yeah, I've been thinking that if they just got it out in the open then he could concentrate again. That's why I've been getting closer to Katara. I thought maybe if I piss him off enough he would man up and push me out of the way."

Toph smirked in her very self-satisfied way, "I knew it! Though, you might want to tell Snoozles about that plan. He's been worried that you really were interested in her. I guess that explains the seating arrangements this evening?"

Zuko rubbed the back of his head and smiled guiltily. "Yeah, I made double sure to sit next to Katara, and for a second he actually seemed like he was going to grow a backbone. I was thinking 'Come on, this is driving you crazy, isn't it? Call me out, why don't you want me sitting here?' but he hog-chickened out again. And I've been doing this for a while. After I saved Katara from being crushed at the temple, I made sure to stay on top of her just a little longer than necessary, but that just made her mad at me rather than him."

"And your little field trip?"

"Well, no, that really was just me trying to help her. But me decidedly not inviting anyone else, not even Sokka, to come help find Yon Rha had something to do with my meddling."

"And plus, it certainly seems like the play is helping you," Toph laughed.

Now it was Zuko's turn to scowl. "I actually think I got more than I bargained for with that. I'm just certain that if he finally told her he liked her, they could move forward and not be stuck in this limbo."

Toph looked confused, "Oh, she knows that he likes her. Did no one tell you that? He kissed her on the day of the invasion. Twinkle Toes waited until everyone else was gone, but he apparently forgot that they were standing on a giant metal submarine. He's kind of stupid like that."

Zuko just sat back, re-thinking his efforts, that he apparently had been wasting, "Well….huh. I guess I was wrong. Maybe she doesn't like him that way."

Toph sniggered in the way she always did when people failed to hide things from her, "Oh, she likes him, Sparky. You don't enjoy a kiss that much unless you do."

"You can tell?" Zuko asked in an alarmed voice. Toph's semi-mind-reading abilities still creeped him out.

"Oh yeah, her heartbeat went through the roof and she apparently forgot how to breathe until Meathead reminded her that we had a nation to invade."

Now Zuko was downright angry now. "Well then why the hell are they still dragging this out!?" He asked, probably too loudly.

Toph smirked and raised one eyebrow. "I think the better question is why you care so much. I mean, I find the drama annoying, sure, but you're really going above and beyond." She nudged him in the side and winked, "could it be that our own resident Angsty McEmopants is secretly a hopeless romantic?"

Zuko elbowed her back, "I'll have you know that I care as his firebending teacher. Firebending is fueled by raw emotion and passion," he nervously tried to figure out a euphemism, "and I just, um, thought that if he had a particular something that invokes certain….urges, then it would give him a little boost."

Toph grinned again. "So you're hoping that Sugar Queen makes him hot in more ways than one?"

Zuko groaned. "Well, if you must put it that way, yeah. You've been hanging out with Sokka too much." He stood up, "I'm going to go find them to see if they do something stupid."

And, sure enough…

***************

Katara was a split second away from kissing Aang back when her eyes shot open

NO!

She pushed him away, trying to muster up some anger. "I just said I was confused!"

Aang simply looked down. He had the same look on his face as when she pulled him out of the Avatar state at the Southern Air Temple, and he had no choice but to accept that he was the last airbender.

"I'm going back inside." She had intended to calmly walk back into the theater, but she had to run to keep Aang from seeing her eyes watering. She burst through the doors and stopped a few steps in to try to get ahold of herself. That was when she heard the voice behind her.

"Katara, who exactly do you think you're fooling?"

She whirled around and saw Zuko standing behind the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Had he been listening?

"Yes, Katara, I was listening. So I'll ask you again, who do you think you're fooling?"

She turned around with a scowl on her face, determined not to get roped into this conversation. If she couldn't talk about Aang with Aang, how could she with Zuko? "Mind your own business, Zuko."

"Katara, you're a very gentle soul. You're peaceful, compassionate, understanding, slow to violence. To the point of stubbornness, in fact, which is one reason you two deserve each other. Hell, you didn't even kill the man who murdered your mother in cold blood. And yet even now, I don't doubt that you would have one second's hesitation to end me if you thought I might hurt Aang."

"Don't paint me in that light Zuko," She couldn't help but smirk, "I would totally give you one second's hesitation. Probably."

"So why are you putting up this 'confused' act?"

She put her hands on her hips and scowled, "You don't know how I feel, Zuko! Of course I'm overprotective of Aang, he's my best friend, not to mention that whole only-hope-for-the-world thing."

Zuko raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Your friend, huh? That's funny, because it's not Toph you were homicidally protective of, nor your own brother, who would be a lot easier for me to hurt, need I remind you. And don't think that I didn't notice you getting angry when those actors had you saying that you think of Aang as a brother. That wasn't a look of concern about Aang getting his feelings hurt, that was you pissed because they got something wrong about you."

"Well aren't you just the mind-reader?" she asked with enough sarcasm to upstage her brother.

"No, I'm not. I don't have to be. Newsflash Katara, the entire group knows. Sokka, Suki, Toph, even Duke, Haru, and Teo knew about it. Hell, all it takes is watching a single one of your 'waterbending sessions.'" He said the last two words with air-quotes.

Katara looked away nervously and blushed, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, to be fair, I'm not a waterbender, but none of my training sessions involved my teachers pressing up against me from behind to correct my stance."

"So, I was making doubly sure he had the proper form, what's your point?"

"My point Katara, that I had the waterbending scroll in my hand as you were doing it, and he was already doing it right. There was no 'correcting' to be done."

"Alright, FINE!" She almost shouted, "Maybe I have some feelings for Aang, but…he can't afford any distractions or confusions right now."

"Katara, don't think that I'm stupid enough to believe that you're stupid enough to believe that. In what way would knowing that the person he loves loves him back and is there for him be a distraction? What is a distraction, however, is this game you're playing. Why do you think I'm here? I don't care about your love life, but this uncertainty is keeping me from doing my job as his teacher. Even after we trained with the dragons, Aang has been too timid, too hesitant. Firebending requires lowered inhibitions and absolute confidence in oneself. Now I know why he's been like that. Because the one time he was completely open and bold in his emotions about the thing most important to him, you left it hanging there untouched for weeks. And now that you've full-on thrown it back in his face, he might get even worse."

Katara couldn't keep her eyes from watering anymore, "Well then he should get over it! Get over me! What's the point, Zuko? It's not like my love for him will protect him! What, is your dad going to be so moved by our love for each other that he decides not to try to kill him?" She slumped against the wall and sat down, hugging her knees as tears streamed down her face, "He died in my arms once already in Ba Sing Se. I can't lose him all over again."

Zuko came over, sat down and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Before I left to join you, I had a girlfriend back home. Her name's Mai. You've already….become acquainted with her."

"I'm better acquainted with her knives, but whatever."

"When I left, I left a note for her saying that we weren't together anymore. I thought ending our relationship would make her lose her feelings for me, so that if anything happened to me, she wouldn't be hurt. Sokka and I are still alive because I was wrong. Even though we weren't technically together anymore, she still loved me enough to go against Azula and save my life, and I still love her enough for that knowledge that she's rotting in prison eat me alive every single day. Hiding behind words and technicalities about where you stand can't change how you feel. It just adds the weight of things not said if something does go wrong."

He stood up. "I'm going back to the seats. Think about it."

Toph was the only one already back when he got back to the balcony. "Have you seen Suki and Meathead yet?" he asked.

Toph answered with a punch to his gut, "Only I get to call him Meathead. But no. Honestly, Sokka has probably gotten them both thrown out of the theatre for harassing actor-Sokka. Twinkle Toes or Sugar Queen do something stupid?"

"Both did, actually. I think I might have managed to get to through to Katara."

People started shuffling in to retake their seats. "I will say this though, this intermission has definitely been the most dramatic part of the play so far."

[brattyfics]

Cape Disappointment | Part One

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Black!OC [Chantel Williams]

Summary: Miguel doesn’t rescue a damsel in distress because Chantel Williams is not a damsel in distress.

Warnings: None yet.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things. Quirky, witty, sarcastic. Condescending, impulsive, sometimes even chaotic. She could be all those things and more, but she refused to be anyone’s victim.

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m not a damsel in distress…” She chanted over and over in a low tone. 

On the side of a low traffic road, snow raining down on her head, Chantel willed the words to be true. Unfortunately, she remembered very little of what her Papa taught her about cars, eyeing the confusing parts under the hood with frustration.

Papa was a school teacher but he worked as a shade tree mechanic on the weekends to be able to afford dance classes for little Chantel. Teaching was his passion through and through. He would talk her ear off in the car on the way to recitals or while she did homework on the bench in his workshop. Being a bratty kid, she learned to tune him out when the topic didn’t interest her and not for the first time she regretted not soaking up more of Papa’s wisdom before he passed. 

If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be stuck on the side of the road with no solution in mind. Empty handed and no closer to fixing the car, she shuffled through the snow. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car despite the thick North Face coat she wore with a matching hat and pair of gloves. She was sure she resembled a wet dog as she shook the snow off, not wanting the ice to melt into water droplets that would surely sting. 

Just a week earlier, she’d splurged on the fanciest new smart phone after losing the older model at a dinner party. Even with all its promised features, it was useless. No signal and no nearby WiFi networks to connect to meant she couldn’t call her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend for help even if she wanted to. She couldn’t even call a tow truck! 

Pride. 

Another one of Chantel’s many traits. She liked to think of it as a positive thing. It kept her from being desperate, saved her from being dependent on others for her happiness. No one else seemed to agree her pride was a good thing. 

Among the naysayers was her sort-of-sometimes boyfriend, Adam. Pride was what had led her to take off from the Yurt they shared on their week-long winter break getaway to race back to her industrial loft in the heart of Seattle despite the weather advisory. She would never admit it to anyone else, but she realized her pride didn’t always serve her well. 

If not for her bruised ego, it would have been funny that her car had chosen to break down a few miles north of Cape Disappointment State Park. It was where she had been staying with Adam. The yurt was too far away to walk back to in the snow but still close enough that it only made sense to stay there for the night once the car issues were resolved. She wasn’t looking forward to ending the night with him. 

Remembering Papa’s belief in God showing up when most needed, Chantel sent up a quick prayer. She really hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long for someone else to come down the otherwise deserted road. Winters in Washington were fairly mild so she wouldn’t lose her extremities to hypothermia or anything crazy like that, but she’d certainly suffer by way of the shivers. 

Any sane person was cuddled up next to the fireplace in their cabin with a bowl of chili, or participating in heat-inducing sexual activities in their yurt to keep warm, not on the road driving. It was only natural for her thoughts to snowball into all the types of un-same people she could run into. 

Indigenous women from Washington and Canada went missing far too often on roads just like the one she had so conveniently broken down on. Chantel had a bad habit of researching everything there was to know about topics when they peaked her interest and she knew too much about human trafficking in the area to not feel a considerable amount of fear. 

“That would be my luck.” She muttered meanly to herself, resolving that whatever happened would be her own fault. 

It wasn’t like a whole lot of people would come looking for her anyway. She had a large group of friends in Seattle, but she kind of had a reputation for taking off without saying much. She hadn’t even told anyone about the weekend excursion to Cape Disappointment! The family she had left she wasn’t close to, and by the time Adam realized she hadn’t made it back home it would be too late. 

Yellow headlights bathed the narrow road, the light blinding her the closer it got. Her hazard lights blinked red, signaling that she was broken down, but Chantel second guessed whether she wanted the help. 

“I’m going to be a sex trafficking victim all in the name of independence. Way to go, idiot.” 

Her fingers fumbled around in the gigantic backpack she’d been using as a purse for the weekend, hastily pulling at the zippers until she found what she was looking for. A purple taser she purchased on Amazon for a whopping ten dollars. She doubted it would stop anyone in their tracks, but it was better than nothing. 

It turned out the man who knocked on her window wasn’t an axe wielding serial murdering rapist, or at least he didn’t appear to be. She tucked the small device into her side as the ridiculously handsome middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard smiled at her through the foggy glass. 

He looked harmless enough, sporting a pair of smart designer glasses and what Chantel knew to be a really expensive cashmere turtleneck sweater underneath an equally expensive Canada Goose coat. She wasn’t shy about looking him up and down as she assessed the risk. What if the male model was a decoy?

His neatly manicured eyebrows twisted down in confusion and she thought it was one of the cutest things she had ever seen. 

She rolled down the window with a nervous smile.

“Hey.”

“Hi.” 

She hated how breathy the words came out but he was truly stunning. 

Tall, fit, well-dressed. 

“Are you alright? It looks like you’re having some trouble.” 

A gentleman.

“What would make you think that?” Chantel spoke before she thought it through, but the stranger didn’t seem to take offense if the amused smirk on his face could be trusted. “I’m kidding. Yeah, no. I’m not alright. The car was making weird noises so I pulled over and now it won’t turn back on. I looked under the hood but I have no idea what’s wrong.”

He nodded attentively while she spoke, watching her lips with interest. She noticed him staring and licked them.

“I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be.” His bronze skin reddened with the admission and she wondered if he was blushing or if the cold was getting to him. “I don’t know anything about cars but I can give you a ride wherever you want.”

She’d like a ride alright. In his cushiony truck that may as well have been a royal carriage considering the circumstances. Or on his handsome bearded face that she couldn’t stop staring at. 

Chantel wondered if he could tell what she was thinking. 

Movement caught her eye and she noticed an identical black SUV pulling off the road to park behind the one Prince Charming departed from. Her hand squeezed around the taser instinctively. 

Was the sexy stranger bait to catch naive, unsuspecting girls? 

“...but I’m sure we’d both rather leave it to the professionals.” He gestured back towards the dark truck and paused, noticing they weren’t alone. Her breath caught in her chest when four bulking men slammed their doors shut and started walking in their direction.

“I apologize. That’s my security team. I left without telling them.” 

Hmm. A kindred spirit. 

Who was he to have a security team? Was he telling the truth? Or just stalling? 

She wanted to believe him. To trust that it was in human nature to help one another without some ulterior, sinister motive. 

Did she even have a choice? How long would she have to wait on the next passerby? There was no guarantee they would be any better than the (so far) kind stranger and his friends.

Chantel Williams was a lot of things, but she was not naïve. With surprising coordination, she swung the door open, knocking the man back several steps. Her boots crunched as she landed in the snow. 

“Back up or I’m going to tase you!” She warned, putting space between herself and the stranger while keeping an eye on the approaching men. 

The corners of his mouth turned up as he fought back a smile. 

Chantel scoffed. He wasn’t taking her seriously. 

“I’m not fucking around!” She insisted, charging up the small device. The buzz felt more powerful than she remembered. The man seemed to think so too, changing his approach. He spoke in a soft tone. “Can we slow down?” 

“Don’t patronize me. Just back up like I said. No, this way!” She ordered until he stood across from her with his back to his men. 

Behind him, they speed up their approach but they could only move so fast in the snow. Following her gaze, the strange man looked over his shoulder and gestured for the men to stall at the front of his truck several feet away. One of them shouted at her to put the taser away from his position. He sported two braids and a cut in his brow. Chantel shouted back at him to ‘shut the fuck up’

Mr. GQ gave another signal and like he was the conductor of an orchestra, all noise ceased. Well, all external noise at least. Chantel swore she could hear the sound of her heart ringing in her ears. 

“Hey!” He demanded her full attention. His hands were up in a defensive position. “What are you looking for here?” 

It was a great question but she had no answer for him.

Trouble maker. Fire starter. Full-time agitator.

Chantel was that way even as a child, responding to normal adolescent teasing with violence. Sharp bites in the classroom or royal rumble style fights on the playground were her specialty in grade school. She made anyone stupid enough to provoke her regret it whether big or small, male or female. That wasn’t to say she was organized or calculating in her plans. She acted and dealt with things as they came. 

She had no idea what the endgame was when she pulled the taser, but she had to stick with it. The crowd of onlookers made her feel more justified in her rash decision.

“I don’t think you really want to hurt me.”

“Now, what would make you think that?” Chantel asked incredulously. He didn’t know her from Eve. 

She was even more steadfast in pointing the taser in his direction but he didn’t seem phased.

“When you want to hurt somebody, you don’t wait around or warn them. You just do it.”

“Are you suggesting I should’ve tased you?”

He shrugged as if they were discussing the weather.

“That certainly would have been more effective.”

Was he serious?

“I mean I still can. If you keep talking I just might.”

He had the gall to laugh in her face. 

Hysterically. 

And it wasn’t fleeting or sarcastic. It was genuine laughter from deep down in his gut. She hated how beautiful he was, even in the middle of showing blatant disrespect for her ability to harm him. 

“Seriously?” She griped, fighting against the way her face muscles twitched. 

Giggle box.

When somebody at church mispronounced a word during the announcements or when her aunt murdered a hit song, she giggled uncontrollably. Papa chastised her for it, but it couldn’t be helped. When the urge struck and she got that itch in her throat, she had to laugh.

So naturally, like two birds of a maniac feather they shared a laugh in four (and counting) inches of snow.

***

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus

MIGUEL TAGLIST

@thesandbeneathmytoes @taylortheeshowpony

[gravity-lifts]

Who’s Afraid Of Ghosts?

Hello everyone! Here’s my piece for the gvbb mini bang (organized by @grishaversebigbang) 

Here’s some absolutely amazing art by @generalstarkov link and  @emmaxtw link!!!! Also a wonderful edit by @jiangsziyas link!! 

This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. ~~ Sometimes, your friend tells a ghost story so stupid that you just need to prove that nothing bad happens in graveyards at night. Right?

ao3 link here

Fic under the cut warnings: violence, death of a minor character (non canon character) words: 2161

The group sat in a semi circle in the living room, sprawled across couches, chairs and each other, chatting amongst themselves, loud enough to make Zoya actually glad, for the first time, that Liliana wasn’t going to be home that night. She wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation --- she hadn’t really been for a while, more caught up in the flickering of the fire off of her friends as they talked. A shout drew her attention towards where Nikolai was sitting, looking equal parts regal and ridiculous in an armchair. He gestured wildly with his hands, trying to explain something to Tamar and Nadia who both seemed to not quite believe whatever tall tale he was spinning. It was probably just something about the mermaids he swears he’d seen the last time he’d been out boating.

However, as she turned back to the fire, she heard him mention the graveyard. Cursing her needless curiosity, she wandered over to Nikolai’s chair, just in time to hear him rambling about the person’s gory end. So, it was a ghost story, then. She settled in, back resting against his legs, waiting for him to restart with his new audience as Tamar and Nadia shuffled back to the couch and Alina drifted from where she’d been talking with Genya, probably having heard half of Nikolai’s story the first time, looking just as curious as Zoya felt about the beginning of a story that had such a gory end.

Nikolai sat up a bit straighter, his face brightening as he noticed that more people wanted to hear his story. He cleared his throat, and then he began.

“This story is like most of the ghost stories that you’ve heard so far, with the premise having happened in a house just like this one, in a small town of almost the same name. However, that is as far as the similarities go. You see, this one is actually true. It starts on a night like tonight, with a group of friends in a house together, telling stories around the fire. In fact, one of them is telling a ghost story just like this one, a true story of a group of friends all together in a house-”

“Yes yes, this story is true and it’s about true things that happened truthfully, now, what actually happened? I thought this was a scary story, not just one about what we’re doing now,” Zoya cut in, pushing a curl of hair out of her face.

“I’m getting there! Just wait, I promise it’ll be scary. Now, in this story there’s a girl that doesn’t believe the ghost story that is being told. She tells her friends off for being superstitious, for believing in the story that had been told. Now, like I said, this is a true story, a cautionary tale, if you will. And, the story inside the story is just like that as well, about a kid who went to the graveyard after dark, only to be killed, right on the grave. Now, as I said, the girl didn’t believe this story when her friend told it. She believed it to just be a stupid tale meant to scare children much younger than them away from the graveyard before dark, back home to their parents for dinner and bed. She declared that she would go out to the graveyard, to prove that the tale hadn’t been true, promising to leave something of their choice on the centermost grave to show that she had followed through with her plan. And so, she set out, a candle in hand, ready to prove that her friends were all just overreacting over a kids story. Now, this is where the story starts to blur. Some people tell it with a happy ending, one where she runs away, never to be seen again. That, in my humble opinion, is bullshit,” he pauses, seemingly for dramatic effect, the drumming of his fingers on the arm of his chair the only clue that he’s anxious to get to what he clearly thinks of as the important part of the story.

“In the much better version of the story, she goes to the graveyard, brave as can be. She walks to the grave, and sets her candle down, kneeling to light it as she hears footsteps behind her, getting closer with every moment she wastes fumbling with the matches. She stays there until she feels someone's breath on the back of her neck, feels the gentle press of a blade to her back, before it plunges in, then the searing pain took priority over everything else, a knife being twisted before it was withdrawn, leaving her to bleed on the cold graveyard dirt, candle lit at last. 

The next morning, her friends came to find the candle. They were speculating wildly about why she hadn’t returned home the night before, all joking about how she must have met another friend, maybe even a partner, before they stepped inside the cemetery and got their grim answer, in the form of her body, laying in a puddle of what was unmistakably blood, still shielding the candle from the elements.” He leaned back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair to either straighten it or ruffle it more, Zoya wasn’t completely sure. She was sure, however, that the story was completely untrue.

“So, Nikolai,” she said, standing up from where she’d been sitting on the floor and taking a step towards him. “You’re saying that if I go into a graveyard at night, I’m sure to die? Because, it is night right now, and last I checked, there’s a graveyard only two blocks from here.”

Nikolai sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I suppose you’d like to go alone, as well? Haven’t I just given two examples as to why this isn’t a good idea?”

“Oh come on! You were telling a scary story, those are supposed to be like cautionary tales. Besides, it’s not the same graveyard. No one has ever been killed in this one, I think I would know if someone had been, seeing as I live right. By. It.”

Nikolai stood, looking genuinely concerned. Concerned enough to make her feel like this may not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had. Well, if she was anything, she was stubborn, so she might as well follow through with it. If anything went wrong, it would serve Nikolai right for basically daring her to do it.

She turned towards the kitchen, tossing her hair behind her shoulder as she walked.

“If I’m actually going to prove your story wrong, then I might as well take something to prove I was there. Would a knife work instead of a candle? Of course I wouldn’t be lighting it on fire, but I could drive it into the ground to prove I was there.”

Nikolai just stared at her, before finally snapping out of whatever mess of thoughts had been running through his head. 

“I’ll come and get you if you’re not back after what, ten minutes? Zoya, I never thought I would say this, but please don’t prove me right.”

She scoffed, pulling her boots on.

“Please Nikolai. It’s a children's story! Don’t tell me you actually believe I’ll die from being alone in a graveyard.

She walked out the door, letting it slam behind her in a way that would definitely have made any parental figure furious with her, and started on her way to the graveyard. She must have zoned out while she walked as it seemed to have taken far less time than it normally did to walk there, but she found herself already almost in the center of the graveyard, knife in hand. She checked that she was in between two graves -- it felt rude to stab a grave -- and knelt, swiftly digging her knife into the dirt. 

She was quite ready to go back home, telling herself that it was just because of how cold it was, and definitely not because the wind whistling in the trees sounded like one of the monsters in the stories she had begged her dad to tell her when she was a child, even though she knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep after hearing them. No, it was definitely the cold. 

She tried to stand, brushing dirt off of her knees as she rose, but she found that she wasn’t able to move past a low crouch. Behind her, the wind grew ever louder, swelling as it whipped through the trees. It sounded almost like babies crying now, less like the roar of monsters as it had before, or the crash of waves on the shore as it usually did, during the day. Uninvited, thoughts of angry ghosts appeared in her head, and suddenly she was a lot less certain that she was actually alone in the cemetery. 

She sank back to her knees, wondering if anyone would find her before morning, or if she would stay in the graveyard, laying dead until morning or even later, like in Nikolai’s story. She really should have thought a bit more before testing fate like this. 

Once again, the wind swelled, almost as if it was trying to push her over. Zoya straightened her back, lifting her chin. If she were to be killed by spirits, at least she would go out with her dignity intact.

Then, from behind her, she heard something. Something that sounded like… footsteps? They stopped, but now she could hear someone breathing a bit behind her. Perhaps she had been too hasty to assume that ghosts were the only thing that could hurt her here.

“Zoya? I’m here to get you! We were worried about how long you were taking. Are you going to turn around, or do I have to make my dramatic entrance to your back?”

She whipped around - or tried to, at least. Whatever was keeping her pinned to the ground was definitely still there.

Nikolai walked around her, probably to make his grand entrance, as by now he had certainly decided that she wasn’t going to turn. With him here, her fears of ghosts and murders seemed almost silly, especially in the glow of his flashlight. He held out his hand to her, entrance seemingly having been set aside. He was looking at her rather oddly, and when she raised a hand to check for dirt on her face, she found the reason in the almost dried tear tracks. She hadn’t realized that she’d been crying until now.

As Nikolai pulled her to her feet, they heard the sound of fabric tearing, amplified by the relative silence surrounding them. The wind had died, leaving everything deathly still. Zoya glanced down, finally seeing what had kept her on the ground. The knife she had brought was still pinning some of the fabric from her dress, clearly stuck firmly enough that it wouldn’t come out without a fair amount of force. She reached down and tugged it out of the ground.

“Well, Nikolai, I suppose we can agree that I was here? Or do I need to leave the knife in the ground for proof,” she said, wiping the dirt off of the knife as best she could on the remaining part of her dress, which was most of it, but she was entitled to some dramatics after what had happened. She would have to get rid of this dress anyway, especially since it was now missing a piece of the skirt.

Nikolai laughed, a bright sound, one that seemed rather out of place here. 

“Yes, I do think that everyone will believe your harrowing tale of the graveyard. Shall we head back now? It’s getting rather late.”

This time, it was Zoya who offered her hand. Nikolai took it, in silent agreement not to mention the fact that she had offered it, now or later.

Together they walked, hand in hand, back to the house where their friends were waiting. As they approached, Zoya could see firelight flickering through the window, and when Nikolai pulled the door open, she could hear them chatting and laughing. As soon as they had stepped inside, both Alina and Genya flew towards them, talking a mile a minute. Genya wanted to know why Zoya had been at the cemetery so long, Alina wanted to know if she’d seen a ghost. Or two ghosts. Maybe three, even, if she’d been lucky.

The four wandered back to the living room, Zoya assuring Genya that she hadn’t meant to stay as long as she had, and telling Alina that she’d seen exactly zero ghosts, ignoring her disappointed sigh.

Zoya sat again, feeling as though she’d be happy if she never had to leave this room again. It was warm from the fire, and the noise from her friends was comforting. She sank back into the couch, content just to sit here, with everyone, until morning.

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Hi! Can i just say that i absolutely love your writing and your vibe as a whole? 🥺💞 If i may, I’d like to request a fic where the reader is a very well known socialite, but she gets very bored of her life and wants something different. She suddenly meets J in some sort of situation and becomes infatuated with him & his lifestyle. You must be busy with other requests & your personal life, so if anything, i just want you to know that i love your writing! 💘

 Sweet anon!!! AKADJSBAJSND 😭💖 I’m SO sorry this has taken me so long to get to and I hope you see it!! This was a really fun one and I had a great time writing it so I really hope you like it 💕

 Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, first time meeting Joker

Word count: 1,954

Warnings: tension, light violence

Something Different

Another boring party with boring people in a boring place. How many more of these must you endure?

Ah the fabulous life of the daughter of Dr. Thomas Elliot, famous Gotham City surgeon and longtime family friend of the Wayne family. Being born to one of Gotham’s founding families, she lives a life of luxury. Chauffeurs, butlers, ritzy charity events, fashion shows, brand promos, intense boredom. You were certainly grateful for the fact that finances were never something you had to worry about, but at the same time, money imprisoned you. It controlled your every move like a puppet master. Stand like this, wear that, speak this way, don’t forget to smile. And don’t even think about having your own dreams. You had access to all of the means in the world to do whatever you want, right? Wrong. If it’ll tarnish the family reputation on any way, its not gonna happen. Ever. And you’d be surprised at what they consider “tarnishing.” Learning to drive, going to school, coloring your hair, going on dates, having a job, getting ice cream with friends. What friends? You never got to experience these things. Things that were normal. Now you were in your late twenties and the life of the average young adult was completely foreign to you. Its been ten years now. Since you started to hate this life.

You were attending yet another fundraiser at Bruce’s place. What was it for this time? Friends of the Gotham Railway? Society for the Performing Arts? Gotham Heights Country Club’s new golf course? District Attorney Harvey Dent. Didn’t he just get elected? Okay then. It really doesn’t matter anyway. They’re all the same. Gourmet hors d’oeuvres, expensive champagne, some phony inspirational speech, bland conversation, smile through how much your feet hurt in these heels, send a check tomorrow. The predictability you lived your life by was astonishing. When were you finally going to get to do something different?

You lifted another glass of champagne from the tray drifting past you and took a heavy sip. Can’t get to drunk though, what would the media say? You were tempted to do it on purpose, just to mix things up for once. The sound of rough whirring broke you out of your melancholic trance and you turned to see a helicopter landing on the roof top balcony outside. The man himself arriving ever so fashionably late. Linking arms with three women you could only assume to be models, how classy. And here comes the motivational speech. I believe in Harvey Dent, a safer Gotham, optimism, face of our bright future, blah blah blah. Now everybody claps. Just wonderful. Back to our mindless mingling.

The evening continued on like they all do. This time you were stuck trying not to stare at the speck of food stuck in Mr. Kane’s teeth while he droned on about the new hotel, they planned to open it across from the opera house. Would it be uncouth to express to him how little you care about any of that? When you were seconds away from excusing yourself for a bogus trip to the ladies’ room, a loud boom rang out from the entryway. You spun around and your body froze at the sound of his voice.

“Goood evening, ladies and gentle-men.”

It felt like ice was running through your veins when you saw him. Purple suit, shotgun over his shoulder, unkempt green hair, painted face. His face. Covered in white with black swallowing his eyes, bright red over his mouth and crawling up his cheeks in a wicked grin. On the news they called him The Joker.

“We are… tonight’s entertainment! I only have one question… Where. Is. Har-vey Dent?”

He was so tall, walking with a slight slouch but had an air of confidence like you’d never seen. Like he knew just how much attention his presence attracted. No, attention it demanded. Like he knew you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He made it look effortless. Almost like he was bored by it. He tossed food into his mouth, chewing noisily while he spoke. Then he stopped and turned to walk toward the crowd, pointing his shotgun toward the people in front of him before moving on down the line. Your feet grew cold when you realized he was heading in your direction. He tossed champagne out of a glass before mockingly tossing his head back to let the last drop hit his tongue. You couldn’t move a muscle as he leaned in and muttered questions at the people standing nearby. He kept coming. Your heart pounded, climbing into your throat as he got closer.

Then you could see it. It was scars. The red smile stretching across his face, it was painted over scars. Someone had cut through the corners of his mouth on both sides, leaving behind a twisted, permanent, grin. It made your stomach drop. He said something to Mr. Kane, but you couldn’t hear it, only the blood rushing in your ears. He got so close. You swore you could feel the heat from his body, smell something sharp like acetone.

“You remind me of my father.”

Then he suddenly grabbed Mr. Kane by his collar and growled, “I hated my father.”

“Ok, stop.”

Mr. Kane was shoved into you while Joker turned to face the voice coming from behind him. Rachel Dawes, Bruce’s friend for as long as you could remember.

“Well, hello, beautiful. You must be Harvey’s squeeze-ah. Hm?... and you are beautiful.”

He circled her like a wild dog stalking prey, practically licking his chops. Relishing the feeling of cornering his victim. Waving a knife blade at her.

“You look nervous. Is it the scars?... Wanna know how I got ‘em?”

Then he reached forward and gripped her by the back of her neck and her face. You felt your cheeks abruptly grow warmer. He pulled her closer to him, holding her there, not letting her look away. A thought suddenly cut through you mind like the knife in his hand. You wondered if the leather of his gloves felt warm or cool on her skin. Your heart fluttered and a shiver ran down your back. Why were you thinking about that? He intruded without warning and started threatening people, but here you were wanting to know what it was like to be that close to him. You found yourself wishing you were her, just to know what it was like, him touching you.

You hung on to his every word. He had a wife once, who told him he worried to much, that he should smile more, she gambled, got in deep with the sharks. They carved her face, had no money for surgery, she couldn’t take it, he just wanted to see her smile again, he didn’t care about the scars, he stuck a razor in his mouth and did that to himself. He… he did that to himself?

“And you know what? She can’t stand the sight of me! She leaves. Now I see the funny side... Now I’m always smiling.”

You blinked and the next thing you knew, punches were being thrown and men in clown masks were falling to the floor. Batman. The masked vigilante everyone was talking about. He seemed to appear out of nowhere, coming out of the shadows to beat up the bad guys. Reality struck you in that moment. This was real. This was happening. The word surreal doesn’t quite cover it. You wanted something different. Well, this was different. Instead of fear you started to feel something else rising up from inside of you, tingling up your back. Excitement.

A punch from a clown masked man landed square on Batman’s jaw, sending him to his knee and giving Joker the opportunity to start kicking him in the stomach. All you could do was watch, spellbound by the violence occurring before your eyes, wide with anticipation. It almost happened too fast for you to see. He really had nothing holding him back. He couldn’t care less about what people thought of him. Showing up in face paint and a purple suit with a posse of men disguised as scary clowns, commanding even more attention than Bruce. He basked in it, not caring one bit what they thought, only that he left an impression. He did. Especially on you.

You blinked again and he had Rachel. He stood behind her, his arm wrapped around her chest to keep her from running, his other hand waving a handgun in the air. He wasn’t going to drop the gun, not unless Batman took his mask off, show us all who he really was. Then the window behind him shattered with a shot from the gun and he dangled Rachel by her arm out into the open air. Your chest felt tight, as helpless as everyone else watching and unable to do anything about it. But you still couldn’t shake the thrill you felt buzzing in your arms and legs, fogging your mind.

“Let her go,” Batman’s hoarse voice demanded.

Joker squinted his eyes and grinned with ironic amusement as he answered, “Very poor choice of words.”

He let go. His laugh reached down to your bones and held on, pulling you toward him while Batman dove out the window after Rachel. You didn’t know what you were doing but you couldn’t stop yourself. Your feet kept carrying you closer. People all around you started rushing for the exit, running from the taunting men in clown masks like the crowd at a Halloween fun house. Except this was real.

You kept your eyes forward, getting within a few feet of him when he turned and saw you. A chill washed over you, both icy cold and burning hot at the same time when his eyes traveled up and down your body where you stopped in your tracks. Your skin felt like it was on fire.

“Hello, there,” he purred.

You opened your mouth to speak but no sound came out. You just stared at him. Then he started to saunter toward you, slowly closing the gap that separated you, and you almost couldn’t breathe.

The corner of his mouth twitched into a sideways grin. “Aren’t you a pretty little flower, hm?”

Your heart fluttered and your lungs pulled in a sudden gasp of air, that sharp smell filling up your senses. He was right in front of you now. He was right in front of you and you could undeniably feel the heat radiating off of him. Your heart pumped faster, the adrenaline in your veins saturating every tissue. That tingling in your spine came rushing back as his tongue flashed out of his mouth to run along his lip.

“Can I, uh, help you with something, little flower?”

The last sounds of panicked voices faded, and it was completely silent. You were alone. With him. Fear tried to wrestle for a place in the front of your mind, to pull you away, to make you run back toward the door, but the allure you felt was too pervading. You remained still, trying to steady your breath while the gaze from his black-rimmed eyes seemed to swallow you up. Sirens started to echo in the distance.

Then your voice found its way out of your mouth, “I… I just wanted to… um, to get closer.”

His eyebrows shot up and his grin widened as a low hum rumbled in his chest. Your brittle nerves nearly shattered when he lifted his hand and gently took hold of your chin, lifting it and stepping forward to press his chest against yours. “Mmm, this close enough?”

His gloves, they felt cool on your skin.

Taglist!

@youmaycallmebrian​ @heavymetalnarwhal​ @neverputsaltinyoureyes @jokersqueenofchaos​ @into-crazy​ @killingjokee​ @astheworlddturns​

[kvngjoong]

what you’d never know (choi san, song mingi)

→ san, mingi x f!you, mafia!au, in which mingi might be the right choice, but fate already has you set with san → 24k+, mentions of weapons and violence, smut (threesomes and bdsm), blood, cheating

“Are you sure about this?” you ask, hand resting over Mingi’s. You watch as he looks back over the hills he’s leaving behind, turning back to you with the smallest of smiles. Before he can answer, you press a short kiss to his lips. It’s too brief to feel, but enough for him to understand. “I’ll follow you to the end of the earth, Mingi. If you want to stay…”

Mingi shakes his head in response. “No. I can’t stay here. You can’t stay here.”

“We could have made it work.”

“San would never understand,” Mingi says. He picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “You can’t expect him to, either. It’s for the best, for all of us. By the time he’s home we’ll be halfway to Singapore and we can leave this life behind.”

a/n: you’re gonna have to fill in a lot of blanks, otherwise the word count on this would be too high. I cut a lot of bits out too :/ i hope you enjoy anyway!

“San, stop it.” Your request is ignored by the very boy, his loose hair tickling the side of your neck as he reaches over you. You lean your neck to the side, giving him the access he wanted, though you pull him backwards with your fingers through his slightly overgrown hair. He purrs at the feeling, all the more enticed to nip at your sensitive skin. “Sannie, please. Not in the car.”

He hums, pulling back briefly to meet your eyes. “Yes in the car. It’s hottest in the car.”

“The driver can see,” you tell him pouting as best you can.

San rolls his eyes, pulling himself back from you. For a moment, you think you’ve escaped his teasing just until you’ve made it home, though San surprises you when he calls out in English to his new driver. “Hey, can you close the divider, please?”

“Certainly, Mr. Choi.”

San looks back to you as the divider between the front and back seat starts to close, raising an eyebrow in your direction. You can feel his fingers creeping up your thigh ever so slowly, ever closer to the delicate skin he loved to leave his mark on.

He hums when you reach for his hand to stop him getting any further. Before you can react, he grasps your other hand and holds it against the leather seats. “Can’t escape me now, can you?”

“Please, San,” you ask again, this time with seriousness leading your expression. San notices the change in your demeanour and loosens his grip. “I want to wait until we’re home. If we wait until we’re home, you can tie to the bed and make me cum all over your face.”

San returns your words with nothing but a smirk. He releases your hand, reaching your face. He uses his thumb to run across your bottom lip, though stops in the middle to pull your lip down and feel the warmth of your mouth. “Is that what you want, kitten?”

“I want you to make me feel good,” you confirm. You change the way you’re grasping his hand on your thigh, resting your fingers over his so you can guide him up your thighs again. He watches your hand closely, eyes only flicking up to you when you let the tips of his fingers brush your already sodden underwear. “‘Wanna make you feel good, too.”

“God, you’re addictive.”

San reaches to kiss you once again, more force in his actions than before, leaning over you so that you can feel every part of him. He rubs the slightest of circles on you over your underwear, not trying to do anything apart from tease you. As he kisses your lips to the rawest state, you notice how he ruts ever so gently against your thigh. You push him back once again, back to his seat that he’d barely sat in this entire ride, leaving him breathless against the leather once more.

You give him a chance to catch his breath, watching his chest heave as he looks back to you. His eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, enough to drive you wild on your own. You know he’s restless and, not wanting to disappoint him, you move across the seats to him. The ride was smooth enough for you to swing your leg over him, straddling him with your weight resting on his left thigh.

“I thought you wanted to wait?” San questions, hand resting over your own as you place it flat against his chest. He laughs to himself as you reach into kiss him, noticing how your positions have changed so quickly. You can’t help but pout as he keeps you from him. “I thought I was tying you up and eating you out when we get home?”

You ignore his questions, knowing any answer will feed his already over-inflated ego. You let your lips fall to his neck, sucking at his skin that had been soaked in his expensive cologne you knew he wore at important events. The woody undertones always gave him an aura of power you were never quite ready to believe. San was still your Sannie, never Choi San, CEO of Myeongkwae Banking.

His trousers were rough, even through your underwear. You spread your legs a little wider to make sure that you can feel him as he tenses his legs beneath you. Your nails drag a little too hard down his shirt buttons, popping them as best you can without looking. San only admires you, hand cupping his obvious bulge that he hadn’t bothered to hide since you left earlier.

“Don’t tease me, kitten,” San whispers, voice rough but still gentle to the touch. You look up briefly to him, catching his narrowed eyes that are glittering in the lights from the street outside the car. After a moment, you drop the button that’s keeping him from exposing the middle of his chest, instead pushing his hand away as you palm him at your own pace. San neglects to show you how badly he wanted you to do that, instead keeping his collected persona and placing his now free hand on your hip. “You wanna ride my thigh?”

You nod, shy as it may have been, grinding yourself down onto San’s thigh without needing him to guide you. He hums, tips of his fingers digging into you as your squeeze him harder than he anticipated. He lets his head fall back against the head rest, watching you as you find your own rhythm in both your hips and your hand. He doesn’t flex for you, he barely gives you anything to get yourself off on, but seeing San in that position was enough for your imagination to carry you back to any of the times he’s fucked you all the way to hell and back.

You’d have expected San to punish you when you stop palming him, having to use both hands to steady yourself on his thigh. You must look desperate; a whimpering mess as San looks on knowing that he doesn’t even have to touch you to have you like this. He doesn’t even touch himself, he just watches. You look up to him briefly though can’t hold his gaze - as soon as you meet his eyes he flexes and catches you off guard, sending you into a flurry of moans as your let your head fall against his shoulder. Your breaths are hard against shirt, moistening the material until it’s left as a damp mess from your uncontrollable moans, and unintelligible words for how much you loved San.

He would have know what you were saying. He knows you so well. He uses his single hand to guide your downwards, your core running over his thigh until the material is wet all the way through to his skin. He doesn’t stop you, either. As in control as he may have been, as much as he tried to assert his dominance over you, the one thing he wanted to see was you completely undone in front of him.

“Are you going to cum for me, kitten?” San asks, voice low. You nod against his shoulder, moaning against him as the knot at the bottom of your stomach gets tighter with each time you roll your hips against him. He strokes his fingers through your hair, holding onto the loose ends to pull you back so he can see your face. “So desperate, aren’t you?”

You nod steadying yourself on his thigh as you chase the high you didn’t know you needed.

“You’re such a good girl for me. No one will ever be as good as you.” San’s words are encouragement that you didn’t know you needed, either. His breathing is heavy, too, though he focuses his attention on you and keeps your head pulled back so you’re looking directly at him. “Who do you belong to, kitten?”

You whimper as you get just the stimulation you needed from his tensed thigh. Your eyes flutter shut, though you remember San’s question and go straight back to him. “You, San.”

“Who makes you feel this good?” San questions, more forceful with how he pushes you down against his thigh.

“You do, San,” you tell him. You meet his eyes once more, though San can’t resist moving in to kiss you and feel the passion running through you. You’re rougher than usual, biting down on his bottom lip as your vision becomes tampered by white. You fall from San’s lips, head buried in the crook of his neck as your orgasm rushing through you before you can even register it was there.

Because that was what San gave to you; unpresidented starts, exhilarating middles, and unexpected ends. He’d give you what you’d never know you needed with the click of his fingers.

“Good girl,” San says, brushing his fingertips over your collar bone as you lay against him, breathing laboured by the climax that hit you harder than expected. He turns your head slightly so you’re looking up to him, soft smile unexpected. “Next time, when you ask me to wait until we’re home, I will be waiting until we get home.”

You bury your head back into his shoulder once more, shyly chuckling to yourself. “Not my fault you make me forget how to behave like a rational person.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” San returns, weakly defending his cause as he intertwines your fingers with his.

“You looked at me,” you tell him, mumbling against his shirt. You turn your head slightly so you can just about see his eyes. He looks down to you one, a brow slightly raised as he waits for you to continue. “Not my fault you’re so hot, Sannie.”

San rolls his eyes. “And I said that you were addictive.”

You laugh at his words, face buried once again as he continues your humour. You think to joke back with him, something a touch flirty for when you do get in and show him how much of a good girl you really are. Before you can speak, the divider between the front and back seats is raised once again. You look back over your shoulder to the driver, suspicion rising when he pulls to an abrupt stop.

“Mr. Choi,” the driver says, watching the two of you from his front screen, “there appears to be someone at your door.”

San becomes tense once more, darting his body to the side so he can get a better look at the front door. You follow his gaze, frowning when you catch sight of a man leant against the doorframe, appearing to be hunched over with a hand over his chest. You pull yourself from San, seeing his demeanour shift completely. It’s best for you to sit back and let him deal with this - as much as you didn’t want San to get hurt, there were only a few people who knew that it was him who lived here.

San reaches under the seat in front of him, finding a small handgun that he’d mentioned to you before. He looks back to you and offers a gesture of good will, a nod of his head as he places his hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “Stay here, I’ll come get you in a minute.”

“San,” you say softly, stopping him before he can reach the door handle. He looks back to you, urging for you to hurry up. “Please don’t get yourself hurt. If it’s someone you don’t know, call the police.”

He nods, though doesn’t offer you any other comfort. Once he’s shut the door behind him, he walks straight towards the front door step, calling a name you can’t make out through the thick structure of the car. He’d had it custom made bullet proof should he ever have something from his other life to do.

You’d listened to him as he sat you down and explained an entire plan to you. How he was approached by a guy named Seonghwa, a few years ago now, suggesting he take part in an organised criminal activity “organisation”, as the freshly qualified solicitor Seonghwa explained at the time. You were apprehensive of any offer that someone would have thrown his way, knowing he was to inherit Myeongkwae from his grandfather. San was easily taken advantage of. He would have given the world to someone if they asked nicely enough for him to do so.

You shift over to San’s seat, watching closely from the window as he stands behind the person at the door. Whoever it is turns to face San, resting a hand on San’s shoulder as they double over once more. San doesn’t seem to be worried for who they are, since he shoves the gun into his pocket and ignores the danger they could have brought. Instead, he finds his keys in his inside pocket, rushing to unlock the door and help the other person inside.

Thanking the driver and leaving a generous tip for his time on the back seat, you jump out of the car and head for your home, too. Your heels are loud against the paved floor, the lights bright against the hint of alcohol from the beginning of San’s work dinner. You pulled the door shut behind you, making sure to lock the door and use the bolts San had added to the top and bottom, too. It’s when you crouch down to bolt the bottom one that you notice the trail of blood that’s spread periodically over the wooden floor. It leads into the sitting room, and given that you couldn’t hear San talking, you begin to fear the worst as you follow it.

“San?” you call, opening the door to the sitting room, witnessing San stood over the sofa, sleeves rolled to his elbows and phone pressed to his ear. He doesn’t spare you a glance, not until you look down to the boy spread across your sofa, torn shirt showing the two wounds he’s taken to the lower back.

His orange hair is distinctive, but in your panic you can’t recall the name San always put with it. You peer down at him, numb to the whines of how much pain he’s in and however he’s calling for help. You look back to San, watching as he talks into the phone, pacing slightly as he does so.

You remembered what San told you in a minute of genius. He always told you, should he ever be stabbed, and you’re assuming this person has been stabbed given the mess it’s caused, to make sure he’s laying down and that you put pressure on the wound. You don’t see any point in standing there staring, so you make a dash for the bathroom to grab a towel to put pressure on the wounds,  kicking off your heels somewhere in the corridor.

San continues to state details whilst on the phone though watches as you rush inside with the towel in your hands, getting on your knees beside the sofa. You check for any objects in the wounds, applying the towel across both and pressing down as best you can to try and stop the bleeding. It doesn’t take long for the ivory coloured towels to be stained the deep red colour, your hands meeting the same fate with the excess blood. Still, you carry on what you’re doing, hearing San above you telling you not to move from that position until someone’s here to help.

This was not the side of things you were used to in organised crime.

You look down to the boy who had been whining from the pressure you were putting on him. He has his eyes squeezed shut, fingers dug into the cushion of the sofa. He’s repeating please over and over again, hoping it will help him out a little more than anything else was at the moment.

At one point he does open his eyes to see you. He looks so innocent, wide eyes calling for help where he knows he can’t get it. You’re surprised he has it in him to still be so vocal, though when he meets your gaze you can give him no more than an apologetic glance for not being able to give him what he wanted; the relief he so badly needed.

✲✲✲

You’d somehow made it to bed last night. At what point, you weren’t sure, but you vaguely remembered sitting beside San with his arm around you, shirt covered in blood, watching Yeosang beside one of the doctors he’d called try to make Mingi’s injuries better.

Mingi. That was his name.

You turn over in bed, stretching your neck as you do so, before settling on your otherside so that you’re facing San. He’s still sleeping, soft breaths filling the air as you watch over him. He barely flinches when you reach over to push his hair from his forehead, only burying his head further into the pillow.

The clock on the wall at the end of the bed reads 07:48, earlier than you’d expected. You never got up too late but you this was early, even for you. Assuming the actions of last night had started to be fully registered, you pull yourself from bed, finding a jumper to put over the loose vest you were wearing. San must have got you changed, too. You look back to him to make sure that he’s sleeping before you leave the room, pulling the door shut behind you.

The hallways are eerily quiet as you step down them, the only sound being your heart that was starting to thump louder with each step. Sometimes you hated how big this place was, the hallways seeming so empty when you were on your own. It seems to go on forever until you reach the staircase, taking you down to the floor where Mingi would have been, should he have been left here.

You were better to check now if he’d succumbed to his injuries last night on the sofa. You wouldn’t have put it past Yeosang to leave the body there for someone else to deal with. As proactive as he was, as much as you trusted him as a friend of yours and San’s, Yeosang was not someone who liked to clean up his mess. He got Jongho to do that for him, if it wasn’t Yunho.

It was unlikely Yunho or Jongho had come here already. You reach the door to the sitting room where everything took place last night, a smear of blood over the door and the handle. Luckily the door wasn’t completely shut so you could push it open without having to get your hands dirty again, but you don’t believe the luck continues when you see Mingi’s body still laying across the sofa.

You step forward slowly, thankful for the wooden floor that could be cleaned a lot easier than the upstairs carpets, inspecting his body. You’re legitimately worried that Mingi has actually died on your sofa, only until he tries to move his arm and groans because of the pain he was in. He’s still on his front, head propped up with a pillow, one of his arms over the pillow, too. There’s two separate patches at the bottom of his back, both lacking any trace of blood. You hope, for his sake, it was all sorted for him last night.

Avoiding waking Mingi, you peer to the side of the sofa and notice the bandages and tissues that were left over the floor. San likely told everyone to go home and leave it, he would call someone to sort it out, that’s what he usually did. You weren’t going back to bed any time soon, the best thing for you to do was try to help out the best way you can and clean up everything before the day really did start.

So you do exactly that. You find the black bin liners under the kitchen sink and a pair of clothes, along with a face mask for when you got to using the disinfectant, and you set to work on cleaning the place up.

You’re surprised by how easy it is for you to clean up. Sure, you’d had San come home before with cuts and grazes but nothing on this scale. It’s easy to wipe up the blood that was on the floor, as annoying as it was to be on your knees for so long trying to get all of it. By the time you check the clock again it’s almost 9am and you’d never have suspected a thing, save for the bag of blood soaked tissues and clothes, and the wounded boy laying across your sofa.

Lost in a trail of your own thoughts, you miss the sound of San coming down the stairs as you wash your hands at the kitchen sink. You’re surprised to feel his hands around you, though his touch is known well enough by you for you not to panic when he does so. “Morning, kitten.”

“Good morning,” you reply, shaking your hands dry. You turn off the tap and turn to him, his arms still around you. “I had fun yesterday.”

San rolls his eyes, scoffing lightly. “Fun is one way to put it.”

“Will he be okay?”

“Hope so,” San says, taking a step forward. He leans into you, face pressed against your shoulder, hugging you as tight as he could. “Can you come back to bed so we can sleep for another few hours?”

You refrain from answering, bring your hand to San’s head and running your fingers through his hair. He hums in satisfaction as your nails run over his scalp, turning his head to look up to you expectantly.

“Please?” he asks.

“You can sleep, I’m too awake to go back to bed now.”

San pouts as he closes his eyes. “I don’t like sleeping without you. It’s not the same.”

“Then you’re going to have to stay awake and help me take care of your friend.”

San seemed to have forgotten everything that happened until you mentioned it. He stands up once again, looking over to the half closed door to the sitting room and rolling his eyes. He looks back to you afterwards, head cocked slightly to the side. “I told him he could stay here until he gets better. The doctor said he’s lucky to have just needed stitches.”

“Oh.” You look down to your fingers for a moment. “He’ll have the spare bedroom?”

San nods, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I was going to talk to you about it but you fell asleep. He lives in the middle of Maechon. If I sent him home he’s likely to get more hurt. Mingi won’t cause any problems. He’s pretty quiet, and it’s off the radar should anyone come looking for him. That’s okay with you, right?”

“This is your house, San, I can’t exactly say no.”

“It’s your house too, and you can say no.” San takes your hand in his, hoping to show some sincerity as he holds it to his chest. “I’ll put him up in a hotel for a while if I have to, but I hope you two can get along. He’s a good guy, he’s always been loyal to me and I trust him to be here, so does Hongjoong. But that doesn’t mean if you don’t like the sound of it I’ll keep him here.”

You hum, nodding slowly. You can tell by San’s slight smile that he was hoping you would agree, so you don’t cause him any more doubt. You pull his hand from his and gesture over to the door, narrowing your eyes at him. “He better be one of your clean friends. I’m not doing his washing.”

“I will tell him to clean up after himself and to not bother you,” San confirms, pulling you into his arms once more, “though you cleaned up this morning, so why does it bother you now?”

You roll your eyes. “Sorry for not wanting blood everywhere.”

“I had someone coming over at eleven to clean everything, couldn’t you have waited?” San questions, tilting your head up towards his. He winks at you, pressing a short kiss to your lips. “I guess we have the morning free now, though. Still up for being tied to the bed?”

Your deadpan stare is enough to answer San’s question. He doesn’t protest either. “Go wake up your friend and put him in bed. The sofa needs cleaning, too.”

✲✲✲

“Hey.”

You turn at the sound of the voice behind you, holding the knife you were using to prepare the food close to your chest. Your heart beats a little too fast from the unfamiliar sound, though you knew how to handle the situation. San had taught you well. You take a deep breath as you turn around to meet whoever it was, though all the air is gone when you see the face of the intruder.

It’s him. Song Mingi. San’s friend. Not an intruder at all.

He notices the knife you’re clutching and throws his hands up in defence. He looks around the kitchen, though doesn’t move. After a few moments, he points to a white paper bag by the stove. “That’s my… my meds. Can I get it? Is that okay?”

You look over to check the legitimacy of his story. It did seem like a pharmacy bag, though you still didn’t trust Mingi. You never trusted anyone San brought back here. They were after his money, his luxuries, the fact he was off the grid and was unlikely to be found by the criminals who wanted the rest of Ateez so badly. You hum, placing the knife down by your side though refusing to take your eyes off the boy.

Expecting him to leave, you go back to the partially diced potatoes in front of you. You’re weary of his presence behind you; being so tall he reflects in the glass of the cabinets before you and you hadn’t heard his footsteps yet, either. Falling on the side of caution, you decide to move slowly and listen out for whatever he wanted to do next.

“San says you like football,” Mingi says. He waits for a moment, seeing as you don’t reply, before he moves so that he’s leaning against the counter beside you. There’s still a foot or so between the two of you. At the very least, you’re glad San has one friend that understand personal space. “I, uh… follow Chelsea.”

You hum, not looking up to him. After dicing another line, you tip them into the pot to the other side of you. “I follow West Ham.”

“Why follow a club like that who will never get anywhere? Seems a bit stupid if you ask me.”

His scoff has you looking up to him, confused. What he made up for in physical awareness he clearly lacked in his ability to censor his words. You don’t frown, remaining emotionless to his words. “Family connections.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Mingi replies, trying to rectify his mistake. He looks down to the floor, shy to meet your lingering gaze, giving you a chance to look him at him without him making any assumptions.

He’s attractive. You would be stupid to have denied that. His hair is dyed an orange colour, though it’s faded now, and you understand why San relied on him when he needed something done that involved a threat being made. His aura was one you could see as causing others to tremble. Though he’s bare faced now, the make up he wore made him look darker. A look from him would send anyone in another direction.

“Me neither.” You return to your food, continuing your preparation. Mingi looks back to you expectantly and you track him through your peripheral vision. He enjoys speaking, he likes the company. You try to make your tone a little friendlier as you reply, “my grandparents have a share in the club.”

Mingi nods, knowingly. “Oh, right.”

A silence looms between the two of you again, the only sound being his slightly heavy breathing and the knife hitting the chopping board. You don’t try to coax the conversation. If he wanted it, he could have it. He does, eventually, cross his arms over his chest and send a smile in your direction.

“Yeah, San told me that he works closely with your family. That’s cool.”

“Do you need something, Mingi?” you ask, changing the topic. He wasn’t as open as San, even if he didn’t stop himself from saying things. Your conversations with San didn’t bore you as much as this.

“No,” he answers. You look back to him and notice the desperation in his eyes. You did understand; being alone in such a big house could drive you to the ends of the earth with insanity. You could only thank San for trying his best to make sure you went with him wherever he could take you. “I wanted company. It’s pretty boring upstairs.”

Understandable. You nod once before sliding your phone across the counter to him. San had mentioned last night that Mingi had lost all of his belongings. “You should call Yeosang. He lives nearby.”

“Yeosang and I aren’t that close.” Mingi was friends with Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung, as well as San. You remembered San telling you that, too. Yeosang was distant with everyone but San, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung. The three Mingi would have asked to come here weren’t allowed to San’s house without clearance without Hongjoong agreeing, which was unlikely.  “Can I… not talk to you?”

You’re being spiteful because San left you here with Mingi and the two of you clearly didn’t have that much in common. You feel bad for rolling your eyes after speaking with such annoyance. “With me. Otherwise there’s no active participation.”

Luckily, Mingi doesn’t pay that much attention to you.

“Yeah, right. Can I talk with you? I can help you out with whatever you need. San told me that you get lonely here too. I can keep you company.”

“I’m fine, Mingi.” You look back to him, more frustrated than he intended. You drop it when you realise he didn’t ask to be here. He had to put up with this, too. The unintended consequences of you being in a relationship with someone like San was clear from the beginning. So you decide to be nice, given that you and Mingi aren’t all too different. “But… if you’re bored, I could use some help organising my books after this.”

You’re surprised by the wide smile he returns to you. He did just want someone to hang out with, and maybe it would be good for you, too. “Sure. I can help.”

✲✲✲

You’d become accustomed to having Mingi around now, not that you enjoyed it or remotely liked it in any sense of the words.

Despite his lack of common interests with you, that he seemed nervous when he spoke to you, and the silence he would bring to dinner conversations (even when San was there), there was something which had you checking up on him from the other side of the room.

San had to be in Ansan for a few nights leaving the two of you on your own for the longest period of time since Mingi’s arrival in your life. The past two days had gone by well, seeing that Yeosang had come over both days to catch up and share some stories with you, but now you were alone with Mingi and you could only wonder if it was you he struggled to talk around, or if it was everyone.

He seemed fine when he spoke to you that first time, though.

When Yeosang had been over, Mingi watched from the other room without saying a word. You’d noticed him peering inside the dining room where you and Yeosang were sat, keeping a watchful eye on you, though brushed it to the side with the thought that maybe San had put him up to this because he was feeling insecure for some reason.

“Everything okay, Mingi?” you ask, looking over at him from your phone. He’s caught right in the act of staring at you, eyes wide as he tries to look somewhere else to cover up his mistake. “Do you need something?”

He shakes his head, words still coming out stuttered. “No. I’m okay. I was just watching TV.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I know,” Mingi replies, hands clasped in his lap. He looks away briefly, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, then looks back to you. “Does San treat you well?”

You raise your brow at his question. It was unexpected to say the least. When Mingi brings his hand to his hair, running his fingers through the end and pulling at them, you expect him to withdraw his question. Given his questioning glance afterwards, you assume that he’s expecting an answer still.

“You don’t have to lie to me, either.”

“San treats me well,” you tell him, hopeful that a small smile will suffice for proof. This is more evidence as to San asking Mingi to check up on you. “Has San said something to make you think otherwise?”

Mingi shakes his head. “No. I was just wondering. You guys seem like a good couple.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s okay.”

You’re still watching Mingi as he looks down to his lap again. The conversation is stale and Mingi doesn’t make an effort to rectify it. Instead he waits for you to say something, almost hopeful that you’ll want to carry on talking to him.

But you don’t. There’s no reason to.

You’d never know where the conversation about you and San could have led, not that Mingi would have told you willingly.

✲✲✲

“What’cha doing?”

You’re surprised to hear Mingi’s voice behind you, given that you were sure San said he was leaving to see Yunho for a bit this morning. Given that you thought you had the house to yourself, you’d not bothered changing from one of San’s tops and the shorts you wore to bed last night. It left you feeling a little self conscious in front of San’s friend, not partially your friend, though Mingi had always presented himself as the least judgemental one of you all.

He’d ignore when you and San would throw comments at the poorly dressed girls featured in the trashy reality shows you watched at night, only opting to add that they should like what they’re wearing. He’d never once checked you out, and even Seonghwa had been caught doing that.

You turn back to Mingi, who’s still expecting an answer. Shrugging, you look back to the mixing bowl in front of you. “San said he liked the look of castella cakes. I wanted to make him one.”

“Oh, the wobbly cheesecakes from Japan?” Mingi asks. He steps forward, meeting you at the counter, looking down into the bowl. “Can I help?”

“It’s the Taiwanese one, but sure. You can help if you like.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you answer with the faintest of frowns, “why would I say so otherwise?”

Mingi shrugs. He leans back against the counter but turns so that he’s facing you. He wants to tell you something, though it’s hard to know what when he has such a blank expression. Mingi hangs around when he wants to say something. “I guess I’m used to being told I can’t help.”

Ah, you know him so well.

“Hongjoong and Seonghwa trust Yunho more than me, and Jongho,” Mingi says. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand, bringing his hands over his chest afterwards. “San’s the only one who ever says yes to me, even just to helping. I’m not used to people being nice to me.”

Seeing his fallen smile, an expression you don’t often get from the pile of sunshine Song Mingi, you find yourself feeling bad for him. You continue to beat the eggs in the bowl but look up to him to meet his eyes. “I know for a fact San trusts you. He really does think the world of you. Whenever I mention a problem, he says you’re the one to help.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” Mingi’s bright eyes are enough to make you want to compliment him all the time. He looks sweet when he’s like this. “I’m sure they all do. Hongjoong and Seonghwa… they’re perfectionists. They like Jongho because he gets things done quickly and they liked Yunho because he listens to whatever they say and do it how they want it done. You do things how you want to do that and it means you get things done right. Hongjoong doesn’t know the first thing about cutting arteries. If I needed someone dead, or tortured, I would most definitely come to you.”

“Would San come to me, too?”

You nod, though his question brings you more thoughts that you couldn’t find an answer to. You let your hands fall to the kitchen counter. “He always has done in the past. He’s closest to you, isn’t he?”

“I guess.” Mingi turns away for a moment, looking out of the window to the front of the house. It’s empty, given that San was meeting Hongjoong for some actual business work, and the neighbours were also at work. “I like it here. Do you think he’d let me move in here once I’m, like… better?”

“Move in?”

Mingi nods.

“You’ll need to ask him nicely,” you reply, returning to the mixture you were mixing, “San likes it just being us out here. He says it gives him a break from his real life. Nothing personal on any of you, he just… doesn’t want to always be around you all. Especially Hongjoong. He makes it as though work is the only thing to ever have existed.”

Mingi hums in agreement, looking back to you and eyeing your work. “So what do you need help with?”

✲✲✲

“Mingi?” you call, looking through the empty bedroom which he was meant to be residing in. You take a step through the boundary of the door, set by San above anyone, searching for him once more. “Are you okay, Mingi?”

You were responding to the thud you heard before, panicking that Mingi had fallen out of bed and was struggling to get up. You can’t see any evidence of him falling though, the covers of the bed pushed back and his spot empty. The pillows are all over the place, too. Instead of keeping your concern for him, you’re left to roll your eyes and approach the bed to make it for him.

It wasn’t your fault that you liked to keep things tidy and Mingi was probably the messiest person you had ever come across. He already had an accumulation of glasses on the bedside table, another cause for your annoyance as you pull the covers back and fluff the pillows for him.

Where did he go? Should you even care?

You tell yourself that you care because this is a big house and you didn’t particularly need Mingi, a well known lunatic with any weapon, to be going missing in a house like this.

The reasons you knew Mingi so well were, primarily, because San loved to talk about him. Hongjoong had found Mingi and Yunho one day when he was visiting a client who was being detained. The two of them had been arrested for disorderly conduct and Hongjoong, taking pity on them both, decided that he wanted them to join his cause alongside the already recruited Jongho.

San had told you all the stories, from when Mingi captured a guy San needed for a deal to be signed with Hongjoong and held him hostage in a warehouse until everyone got what they wanted, to the times that Seonghwa had asked Mingi to point a gun at Byounggon’s head in order to scare him into agreeing with Seonghwa’s plan going forward regarding the alliance between Ateez and CIX.

Mingi was a law upon himself, and that wasn’t needed here. You didn’t need his unmade beds and clothes left all over the place, nor his overly enthusiastic shouting at the TV or comments on topics he knew nothing about.

You were order, and he was chaos.

Yet you were still looking for him, hoping he would pop up at some point as you straighten the covers of his bed to make it look more presentable.

To your luck, when you look up from the covers, ready to tackle the load of washing you already had downstairs from clothes he seemed to go through at rocket pace, Mingi is standing in the doorway with an equally surprised expression to see you, too.

You’d have commented on the bed, should he not have stood with a towel around his hips and nothing to cover his chest. He must have been in the shower, hence his wet hair that had been briefly towel dried and left a mess for him to sort out later. You try not to look directly to his exposed body but it’s impossible to miss what he’s presenting straight to you.

“Oh!” Mingi grabs for one of the dirty shirts on his floor, holding it up to his chest to cover himself. You notice the slight blush on his cheeks but don’t comment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were in here.”

You shake your head, smoothing over the bed covers to straighten them out again. “I heard something fall and thought you hurt yourself. I also asked you to make sure you made your bed each morning.”

“I was gonna do it when I got out the shower.”

“Sure.” You pick up the few glasses from his side, balancing them in your arms. Mingi opens his mouth, as though he���s going to offer to help, though you stop him as you start to walk towards him. “I’m going to the store later. Do you want to come?”

Mingi hesitates in his answer, ears a light shade of pink, too. He nods enthusiastically, smile brightening his demeanour. “Of course! I wanna get some things, anyway. I can also buy you something to make up for, like, everything whilst I’ve been here.”

“You’re San’s guest. How else would I treat you?” you ask.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t expect you to cook for me, clean for me, do my laundry. You know. You’ve treated me like more than a guest.” Mingi reaches for the back of his neck, still holding the top to his chest with his other than. He scratches the back of his neck briefly, accidently showing off his toned arms, too. He must have been doing this on purpose now. “Let me get you coffee. I owe you the very least.”

You hum. “I don’t like coffee.”

“Then I’ll buy you lunch.” Mingi drops his arm by his side, watching you closely. He sees you’re about to reject his offer again, and stops you before you can even try. “Don’t try to say no. I have a whole list of things we can do together so I can show you how thankful I am. Seriously, it’s just lunch. I know parts of you from when we’ve been around each other, and what San has said to me, but I want to get to know you. We’re friends, right? We’re doing what friends do.”

Friends? It was a step above the mark for the two of you. You had considered him your boyfriend’s friend, though you felt it too harsh to reject his offer when it was all with good will. A few seconds pass before you nod in agreement.

“Lunch as friends. We leave in twenty. There’s the place San and I always go to, I think you’ll like it.”

Mingi returns your offer with a wide grin, nodding happily. You’re surprised by the way you feel a little warmer from his gesture. “Great! I’ll get ready and… yeah! Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for a lunch you’re paying for.”

You’re surprised by his eagerness, honestly. You can hear him stumbling about upstairs from where you sit, cursing when he hits something. You can’t help but laugh at his clumsiness, sipping on the juice you’d poured for yourself as you waited for him.

To your surprise, he comes down ten minutes later asking you to give him one second to put his shoes on. You stay still, back leant against the counter as you wait for him. A few more seconds that he promised and he comes bundling in through the door, grin still present as he steadies himself.

He doesn’t look like Mingi today. The usual black attire has been scraped for something a little softer. His grey long coat, the white high neck jumper underneath, his round rim glasses. You’d have never guessed him to an infamous killer of Ateez. He looks so cute. He looks soft.

You’re happy to tell him how you feel when you meet his smile with a hum. “You look nice. I didn’t expect this from you.”

“Sometimes I have some style.”

“Nah, you copied Seonghwa,” you tell him, shooting a wink in his direction. You don’t miss his pout, protesting your words as you place your glass in the sink and run some water over it. “I’ve seen him in something similar.”

Mingi shakes his head, appearing to your side with his brows furrowed. “No I didn’t! He’s not worn this before. I thought it looked cute.”

“It does,” you confirm, “I’ll believe you for now, but if I see Seonghwa wearing the same outfit I’m going to have to take a picture and show you, to prove to you I’m right.”

“To do that you’ll need my phone number.”

You cock your head to the side slightly. “I don’t have your number? Hmm. I guess I never needed it. Hold on.”

Mingi waits patiently at your side as you pull your phone from your pocket, opening up the contacts app. You type in his name on a new contact and hand him your phone, though Mingi changes his name to Mingki before he adds his number. He passes it back to you, the typical blush still over his checks.

It is cute, the blush too.

“Shall we go, then?” you ask, phone placed back into your pocket. Mingi nods enthusiastically, though stops when you link your arm with his and pull him towards the door.

✲✲✲

You had noticed Mingi struggling a while ago, though you weren’t exactly sure what for. He’d got up early this morning and rushed out for whatever reason, come home with three bags in his hands that he promised he didn’t need help with no matter how many times you asked him. Now he was in the kitchen running back and forth trying to organise something that you weren’t quite sure of.

He hadn’t even noticed you in the doorway, that was how concentrated he was.

You watch curiously as Mingi holds his hand that he’s somehow burnt on the hot dish he’d taken from the oven. He tries to continue using it, but as expected, he isn’t able to. Seeing that he has no sense with what he’s supposed to do with a burn, you decide to show your presence and place your hands on his arms to guide him towards the sink so he can run some water on the area.

“What the--”

Mingi looks back to you with wide eyes, though you don’t take any notice of him as you pull his hand under the running water. “If you burn yourself, you should run water on it.”

“When did you get here?” Mingi asks, submissive to your guidance. He looks back to the open door and the hint of pink starts to form across his cheeks. “Were you watching me?”

You shake your head. “I was curious as to what you were doing in the kitchen.”

“Repaying your efforts.”

“You already bought me lunch.” Your words bring Mingi’s gaze back to you, his lips forming a slight pout. Given the look of the kitchen he was trying to cook. You let go of his hand and look behind him, noticing the rice flour which was spread over far too many surfaces, and gochujang which looked out of place. “You’re making tteokbokki?”

Mingi’s surprised by your guess. He looks back to follow your gaze and nods slowly. “My grandma gave me her recipe and I wanted to try it out for you.”

“You really didn’t have to,” you tell Mingi, “but I do appreciate it. I haven’t had tteokbokki in ages. Thanks, Mingi.”

“You cook all the time, I wanted to do something for you instead.”

You do honestly appreciate it. It’s hard to see where he got the idea from, seeing as San hated cooking and you assumed Mingi did too. The only person you’d ever shared a kitchen with was Seonghwa on Hongjoong’s birthday when you both prepared food for everyone, and you were fine with it. San wouldn’t have given Mingi the idea, so Mingi must have had the plan on his own to try and impress you on his own.

Which means San is likely to have told Mingi you weren’t so sure on having him around, which is great. San was usually an oversharer but you didn’t think he would overshare with Mingi of all people.

Though, the thought of San reminds you of something. You turn back to Mingi who’s adjusting his sleeves and turn your head slightly to the side. “San doesn’t like tteokbokki.”

“I know,” Mingi says. He barely spares you a glance as he goes back to what he’s doing. “This is for you. I heard you say once to San you were going to make it so I beat you to it.”

“Why did you want to make it for me?”

Mingi hadn’t planned for your question. His wide eyes and equally wide lips are a strong indicator that he has no idea what he’s supposed to say to you. “Well… I was just…”

“Yeah…”

“I wanted to do something for you, like I said,” Mingi repeats. He smiles, though it seems disingenuous given his current situation, and returns to the stove he had set up. “You cook all the time. San doesn’t like tteokbokki but I do. It’s the perfect time to make it, right? Plus my grandma used to make this all the time and I crave it always. I best put her recipe to use.”

You hum, still airing on the side of cautious as you lean back against the radiator in the kitchen. You watch Mingi from your corner, eyeing the bandage that just peeks through his sweatpants and loose fitting top. He must have still been in pain and standing for this whole time wasn’t helping. Maybe you were so used to doing things for others, or mostly doing things for San and whichever member of Ateez would come home with him, that seeing someone do something for you was out of place.

Especially when it was Song Mingi.

“You’re lucky she shared the recipe with you.” Mingi doesn’t acknowledge you apart from briefly glancing back at you when you start speaking. “My grandma said she will give me her recipe when I find someone really special to share it with.”

Mingi pauses to reply. “Someone special?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, “she would only ever make it on birthdays and other celebrations, like when my cousins would get married. She told me when I find someone special I can have it.”

“But what about San?”

You raise a brow as Mingi turns back to you. “What about him?”

“Is he not someone special?” Mingi asks.

“He is,” you reply. You recall your grandma’s words perfectly. She’d expressed her woes at you dating your grandpa’s business partner’s grandson ever since you first brought him home when you were a day over 13. She was convinced you would fall in love with him and she was right. “My grandma doesn’t like that I’m dating San. It’s always been an issue. She says he’s too much like his grandfather who she doesn’t like.”

Mingi’s surprise is natural. He returns to what he was doing without commenting more on the issue, likely because he’d always infiltrated your relationship with San so much already, relying on you to share more or change the subject.

Given that your relationship with San was not approved by most of your family, you didn’t want to keep on the topic for too long. Your father and grandpa approved because it was better for business, but the others all said San wasn’t right for you. The only problem was that you loved San with every part of you and it was hard to think of not being with him. Especially when you’d already spent so much of your life with him already.

Mingi looks back to you and smiles, shyly at best. His hands are covered in the red bean paste and you’d seen that look from San’s friends enough times to know what he was in need of. “Can you help me out? Please?”

“Of course,” you answer, approaching the mess he’d made on the counter without any caution. Before you ask him what he needs you to do, you look up to his face and drink up all his features. His natural pout, innocent eyes, slightly furrowed brows. He’s cute. You can’t think much more before he catches you staring and seems equally surprised. “What do you need me to do?”

And as he walks you through each thing he needs help with, you realise what separates him and San. Rather, what separates Mingi from everyone else you knew in Ateez. Mingi knew how to ask for help when he needed it.

He wanted other’s help; he wanted your help.

✲✲✲

San has you spread out across your bed, hands pulled against the metal frame of the bed with the leather restraints he’d picked up somewhere between Daegu and his trip back to Sancheong. He’s kneeling between your legs, spread for him just like he wanted, his dark gaze watching each of your moments.

San was agonisingly slow today.

You weren’t sure what he’d been thinking about the past two days. One night without you and he can’t resist having you hanging on his every move, let alone words. You missed his voice already, but when San was quiet you knew he was enjoying himself far too much.

He leans forward, elbows flat against the bed. His hands slide under your thighs, holding onto you to make sure you’re in the position he wants. He hums to himself, you’re not sure why, blowing on your exposed core a second later. The sensation has your hands pulling against the restraints, the sound earning nothing more than a hushed groan from his lips.

San looks up to you once more, just his eyes visible now, the pure sense of desire visible in his aura. “I thought it was me that needed you, kitten. You’re just as desperate as me.”

One of his hands is moved from your thigh as he keeps his eyes on you. He watches you closely, keeping your gaze so that you don’t anticipate the tips of his fingers brushing against your clit. He revels in the way your body reacts, hips bending upwards from his touch, the slightest of whimpers leaving your lips.

He loved to watch you as he touched you. Seeing your features contort in pleasure as he circles your clit in a way that feels new each time, watching your chest heave as you try to catch your breath from his movements. He uses your closed eyes to his advantage, attaching his lips to your clit before you can take your next breath.

“Such a good girl for me,” San purrs, listening to your mewls of his name. You don’t care to feed his ego when he’s like this. His confidence when it came to pleasing you was always as high as ever and that made everything even better. Even his words against your clit spark you in a way you can’t describe. He kisses it, though replaces it with his fingers once again. “I’ve never had to punish you, have I?”

You shake your head, wishing to tangle your fingers in his hair and pushing him back to what he was going before. There were times he probably should have punished you, but he was always too smitten to go through with it. He was unfair, and he would edge you for as long as he could, but never actually go around to punishing you for something you did wrong. In his eyes, you could never have done anything wrong.

“I don’t want to have to punish you later, then.” San continues. He crumbles your hopes of finally having him eat you out, a speciality of his that he was usually always happy to follow up on. You watch him curiously though whimper when he removes his hand, sitting up on the bed, still between your legs.

You knew there was a reason he still had his shirt and trousers on. He would usually unbutton his shirt to at least halfway, have his sleeves pushed up and hair back, but there was none of the today. San had pulled you upstairs after kissing you roughly against the door, asking if you wanted him to do what he promised a few weeks ago.

It seemed there was more to it, though. You watch as he finally rolls his sleeves up, taking his time to delicately fold the linen. He looks to you once again, one brow raised as you silently beg him to continue. He doesn’t ask, though, he only moves on to the shut door with a smirk on his face. “Mingi?”

Your eyes are wide at the prospect of the younger boy walking in here. All of your self consciousness comes back to you in the span of a few seconds, your naked body displayed for San on the bed a sight you hadn’t expected anyone else to see. You pull your knees up to your chest, though San realises and holds both your thighs down, not losing his complacent expression.

“You know the safe word if you’re uncomfortable,” he tells you, his touch to the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs sending a buzz through you. You bite down on your bottom lip as you hear the click of the door, your eyes darting down to the sheet you were laid on.

And here you thought the lack of any toys at his disposal was because he missed you that much.  

Whilst some part of you wants to see the way Mingi looks at you, how he reacts to the situation too, you’re too shy to meet his gaze. From the sounds of his footsteps he must be near the bed, and from the corner of your eye you can see his figure growing closer, but you still don’t want to look up to him.

San had brought this up to you before, but you never expected his friends to be subject to his games, too.

“Already waiting in anticipation, were you?” San says. You look up to him, despite the question being posed to Mingi, unsure of what he’s gesturing too. He hums to himself, gesturing for Mingi to sit on the bed with him.

Mingi is just as timid as you. He creeps his way forward, the bed barely dipping with his added weight to the end. You can feel him looking you up and down, his hungry eyes feeling no different to San’s. Still you keep your eyes on San, not wanting to disappoint him.

San must have realised you were content on sticking to him, though judging from expression he was happy you weren’t using your safeword. As constrained as you may have felt, no part of you had considered stopping this all.  “Look how hard he is for you, kitten.”

You follow San’s instruction, stare shifting over to Mingi. You catch his eyes for a moment, his lips an unusually crimson shade, his body seeming so tiny now. You look down his chest and to the tent in his black jeans. You don’t keep your eyes there for too long, looking back to his face and noticing the faint blush over his cheeks.

“I asked Mingi to join us so he can take his mind off the pain,” San tells you, he reaches towards you, hand laying flat at the top of your thigh. His splayed fingers move ever so gently against your skin, leaving your lips to tremble in anticipation. “Untie one of her hands.”

His dominance extends to Mingi, the boy listening to San’s words with as much obedience as you usually show. He leans over you, releasing your left hand from the leather and discarding it to the floor beside the bed. You bring your arm across your chest, waiting for further instruction from San.

Mingi is looking, again. You didn’t know the boundaries that he’d set with San; what he was permitted to do. His hands are shaky but he makes an attempt to run his fingers over your shoulder, breathing hitched as he moves over the curve of your breast. He looks to San, who nods in response, and Mingi lets his fingers run over your peaked nipple, too.

He’s unsure of what he’s doing, you know that at least. His touches are barely there, his eye contact minimal. He was the complete opposite of San who loved intensity.

“You’re going to get Mingi off, kitten,” San tells you. He nods to Mingi, who’s skittish to get off the bed and start to strip his clothes. He watches Mingi fondly, their bond closer than you had imagined. When Mingi’s loose top is thrown to the side, exposing his body you’d already seen a preview of, San turns back to you. “Show him how good you are with those hands of yours. When he cums, you do too. Understand?”

You nod once. San waits for Mingi to sit beside you at the top of the bed, though you’re still too shy to look directly to Mingi, even with his large figure beside you. His breathing is heavy as he reaches his hand inside of his black boxers, palming himself briefly before pulling out his cock that’s most definitely hard for you.

He’s bigger than San, though you’re not surprised. Mingi was a big guy and it seemed natural. You’re hesitant to touch him, the axiom San always told you sticking to mind - you’re mine, you do this for me, I’m the reason you’re like this. But you can’t lie that you were impressed by Mingi getting so hard over imagining you like this. He has an unreadable expression as you spit into your hand, tantalised by your obscene actions.

His hips stutter when your hand curls around him, huff leaving his lips with relief. You start slowly at first, guiding your hand across the length of his cock without any consideration for your own needs. You look up to him, drinking in the sight of his brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, and lips parted with pleasure.

You’d have forgotten the whole situation if San hadn’t have returned his lips to your clit. San was a beautiful sight when you were pleasing him but never before has a memory been etched so deep into your mind. Your movements become uneven when San reminds you that he is in control here, even if Mingi was more submissive than you.

“You cum when he does,” San reminds you.

You nod, head pressed back against the bed frame. You bite down on your lip as your feel San’s tongue lays flat against your folds, lapping up your taste. You can feel him watching you, though when you hear Mingi’s deep moan you realise you may have been mistaken on who it was.

Because you’re barely touching Mingi and he’s still enjoying it.

Your light movements up and down his length, the slight twist as you go down, that was generic and he was still loving it. Your nails are digging into the palm of you hand that’s still restrained. Your legs are numb already because of San.

Yet you’re watching Mingi intently, hoping to see the face of the boy when he cums.

You were loud, your whines for San to do more, to suck harder, but Mingi outshone you anyway. Each time you close your eyes, hand moving purely out of habit, you’re brought straight back to him with his moans and--

Was that a whimper?

You open your eyes in surprise, hearing Mingi whimper when you go a little harder over a spot on the underside of his cock that was sensitive. Your wide eyes are met with his own a moment later, urging you to go faster.

You don’t break his eye contact, San’s incisive and vigorous actions barely noticeable through the numb sensation running through your body. Your movements on Mingi get quicker, the younger barely being able to contain himself. He may have wanted to close his eyes, you’re sure he wanted his hands somewhere other than the pillow he was holding onto desperately, but the only thing he’s concentrated on is you.

If it was San he’d have lasted longer. It must have been about ten minutes, if that, and he was there already. Mingi’s hips stutter forward once, a final moan that was mixed with your name as his seed shoots from the end of his cock, covering part of your hand and the covers below him.

You’re so focused on him that in a moment of blank you forget that it’s San between your legs. Your eyes fall shut, free hand now tug into the sheets like Mingi’s was before. You don’t expect to feel his body against yours, especially not his hand on your chest and thumb circling your sensitive bud.

You don’t even know who’s name you were moaning when you heard San finally say you can cum, but the last thing in your mind was Mingi. Even if it’s San hungrily taking all of your taste that he can, the first thing you think of when you open your eyes in Mingi, too.

And as you stare up at Mingi, his forehead resting against your own and sweat covered hair matting together, you wonder for too long what it would be like if it was him in San’s position.

✲✲✲

“Can we talk, please?”

You look up from your magazine to the sight of the disheveled looking boy in front of you. His eyes are red, hair messy, and his skin a paler colour than usual. You nod, patting the seat next to you as you shuffle backwards.

Mingi looks to be as awkward as when you first met, only he now wears plain black t-shirts and sweats around the house, not bothering to make himself look as presentable as he did before. He places himself delicately beside you, legs pressed together and one of his hands covering the other on his lap.

“What is it?” you ask him. You notice how he flinches at your voice, meeting your eyes with an expression you couldn’t see different to one of fear. He seems apprehensive to answer, so you try something from before. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I know,” he replies, “I’m not sure how to phrase what I need to.”

You hum, closing the magazine and placing it back on the coffee table. At the very least you could give him your undivided attention. “Just say what’s on your mind.”

“Okay.”

Mingi looks down to his lap again, playing with his own fingers. You watch him bite down onto his bottom lip, already raw from how many times he must have done this upstairs. Mingi hadn’t been this quiet in a while, and honestly, it worried you. When his eyes flicker to your lips you wonder if this is about the other night.

You hadn’t seen each other, really. San had a company dinner last night you went with him to, and the night before you went over to Yeosang’s to discuss a contract with him, San, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong. The night before was when you’d realised that Mingi was closer to you than anticipated.

“Things between us have changed,” Mingi tells you, words coming directly from his heart, “and I don’t want you to hate me, because it’s my fault that they’ve changed. I told San that I was lonely and he suggested you. I should have said no, and I’m sorry.”

You appreciate his honesty. The surprise he feels when your hand rests over his is enough to give him a heart attack. “Don’t say sorry. I enjoyed it. San has wanted to do that for a while.”

“Oh?”

“He’s into a lot of weird stuff. He’s wanted someone else to join for ages. I guess I’m sorry that it had to be you.”

Mingi shakes his head. “No, no, don’t say sorry to me. I enjoyed it too.”

“Then what’s the problem?” you ask, not grasping the aim of his conversation.

You might not have known Mingi for very long, but when you’ve spent your life around people who couldn’t show more emotion than a blank face and monotone voice, you can most definitely read him. There’s something which is bugging him and he can’t tell you because he’s scared. Of what you’ll say? Possibly.

Of what San will say? Most likely.

“I guess there isn’t,” Mingi says, weak smile showing his emotions clearer than it was meant to. He stands up, nodding to convince himself he was done here. “I guess I’ll see you around.”

You roll your eyes, Mingi luckily misses this, and grab his wrist before he can walk away. You pull him back down beside you, keeping the sweet persona to ease whatever information he had out of him. “I thought we didn’t lie to each other.”

“We don’t,” Mingi answers, avoiding your eyes.

“That includes not saying certain things.” You shuffle closer to Mingi, your thigh pressed against his as you balance yourself with one foot on the floor, the other kneeled on the sofa. You’re only a few inches from him when you continue. “What aren’t you saying, Song Mingi?”

He swallows, harshly being an understatement, stuttering over his syllables as he looks to the floor. You place your hand under his chin to pull his attention back to you. Being Mingi, he naturally blushes once again at the interaction and tries to fight against you gaze. Luckily you’ve spent the majority of your life with San and you know exactly how to deal with someone who was being difficult.

“Please, Mingi?” you ask, hand still under his chin. You bring your other hand to his hair, too, brushing your fingers through his hair to make it a little more presentable. “Why wouldn’t you be able to tell me?”

Mingi lets out the smallest of whimpers at your words. He closes his eyes briefly before he speaks. “You’ll hate me if I tell you.”

“Why would I hate you?”

“Because I shouldn’t feel this way,” Mingi answers. He doesn’t break your eye contact until he has to, his eyes becoming watery. You frown ever so slightly, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut and a few tears fall down his cheeks. You pull him into your chest, holding him close to you as he silently cries for the undisclosed reason. “San’s my friend.”

You’d have been too naive to think this was his unprecedented confession to San. You gently stroke over his hair for a moment, not sure how to answer. You decide to stick to what he said before. “I can’t tell you if I hate you unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I like you,” Mingi says, words so quiet. He looks up to you, eyes wide. He can barely keep eye contact with you, looking back down towards the floor when his eyes are watery again. You can feel the sobs racking through his body, his hands clasped around yours as he cries. He tries again but it’s less clear what he’s trying to say. “I think that… because you were nice… and it’s just too much for me… San’s my friend… I can’t…”

His nonsense isn’t worth the pain it’s causing him. You decide that treating him nicely isn’t going to work anymore, so you switch to being firm as best you can. You pull up his shoulders so that he’s sitting up straight, moving your hands to cup his cheeks. He opens his eyes when he feels your skin on his, sniffling as his body trembles ever so slightly.

“You like me,” you repeat. He nods, chest shaking as he tries his best to breath in. You’ve spent enough time around doctors to know that he’s on the verge of this becoming something worse. “Mingi, listen to me, I don’t hate you. But you need to breathe, okay? In, and out. Do it with me, okay?”

You’re thankful that he copies what you do, taking a deep breath in and a longer one out. He follows you a few times before you’re satisfied that he’s okay, at least to the degree that you can rationally speak to him about what he said.

“You like me,” you repeat, dropping your hands to your lap. Mingi nods again, this time being able to follow it through. “You have feelings towards me?”

Mingi nods again. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” you answer, “no one asks to feel the way they do about someone. So I don’t hate you, and San won’t either.”

“It’s not just ‘cause of what we did, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Mingi pauses before he answers. He breathes out heavily, shoulders slouched towards you ever so slightly. “I don’t know when it started. I was looking at you one day and my heart was beating real fast. I couldn’t get you out of my mind and I got nervous when I spoke when I spoke to you. I wanted to look nice so you’d compliment me.”

His words are signs of a crush, you’d give him that. Whether he truly felt a certain way towards you, you weren’t sure. Everyone had been there - a temporary burst of feelings for anyone who showed a bout of affection towards you. You’d tell yourself that his feelings, that he likes you, is because you’re spending so much time with him and you’re paying attention to mostly him.

But he seems to think it’s different, and you can see it in his eyes that, again, part of the truth wasn’t there. You wouldn’t push him any more, though, seeing how distressed he already was. You reach up to stroke his cheek but Mingi’s lingering stare makes you think he wants more.

He’s still as he adds a little more to what he’s already told you, “and I got jealous when I saw you with San.”

“Jealous…” You repeat his words to no one in particular. Mingi hears you but doesn’t comment, opting to watch as you look down to your hands which rest next to his. “San was going to ask you when he got back, but he wants you to carry on joining us. There are other things he wants to try. If you know it’s going to hurt you, tell him no. He’ll understand.”

“That’s the thing, though. I want to join. I wanna…”

Mingi cuts himself off, much to your displeasure, looking into the distance behind you as the words form differently in his mind. You nod, hoping to encourage him, but he doesn’t speak until he feels your hand over his, squeezing it gently.

“I wanna do what San did to you,” Mingi tells you, “I wanna be the one who makes you feel good.”

Ah. It’s a predicament you’re in now. You become stiff as you remember your thoughts from before. How would Mingi feel if he were the one doing what San was doing? You push it from your mind but you still get an image of Mingi being the one who looked up at you from between your thighs. Your breathing becomes ragged as you realise you haven’t answered Mingi, who’s still very much hoping for an answer.

He’s not naive enough for your change in demeanour to go unnoticed, is he?

“You can,” you tell him. Mingi’s eyes light up at your words, excited hands reaching for your thighs. In a moment of misjudgement you realise he’s taken your words to mean something other than how you meant them. You press your hand to his cheek once more, holding him back from you. “San has to say you can.”

“San has to give me permission?” he asks, rephrasing your words.

You nod. “Ask him if you can.”

“Now?”

“If you’d like.”

“Are you sure?”

Mingi becomes small again. You’re surprised by his submissive side; as much as you knew it was there, you didn’t expect him to act this way towards you. San was much better at this than you. All you were doing was copying what San would have done in the same situation. What you do know is that this situation could play out two ways, and one sounded better than the other.

You either tell him to wait for San to come home tomorrow and you’re stuck under San’s watchful eye, controlling what you do as well as Mingi. Nothing happens tonight and you’re both not able to sleep. Or, you give Mingi the opportunity to let you take control.

Mingi falls so easily against the sofa, unaware that you were going to push him back. He watches you closely, his shoulders tensing when you climb over him so that you’re straddling his waist. You take your phone from the pocket of your shorts, placing it down on Mingi’s chest once it’s unlocked. “Call him and see what he says.”

Nodding, Mingi grabs your phone impatiently, eyes focused on the screen with his tongue trapped between his teeth. You take the opportunity to place yourself down on him, seated right on the growing tent in his sweats. You can feel everything now, and you’re glad his yearning was just as bad as yours.

And maybe you are taking advantage of the situation at hand. You could have waited a day for San, but you didn’t want to wait any longer for Mingi.

“Loud speaker, baby,” you tell him, pulling the phone from his grasp. You press the speaker button and place the phone back down on his chest, seeing that it was dialing San’s number. “You do the talking. Tell him what you want to do to me, and ask him if he gives you permission to do so.”

Mingi nods again. His breaths are shallow, likely because the only thing separating his cock and your core are the clothes you’re wearing. If you’d have know any better, he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“This is unexpected,” San says, voice filling the otherwise quiet room. Mingi looks to you for help, but you only nod your head towards the phone. “Everything okay, kitten?”

Mingi stiffles a moan as you grind backwards on him. His nails are forming crescents in your sofa, but you’d get mad about that later. “It’s me, San.”

“Mingi? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Mingi replies, voice shaky. San was smart enough to realise what was going on. You hear a door shut over the crackling phoneline and know that he’s found himself somewhere private. “I have to ask you something.”

San hums in response. “What would you need to ask me?”

“I…”

Mingi stops to look at you again, fearful of the response he’d get. You place the palm of your hand on his chest, soothing him with the stroke of your thumb. You can feel him tensing his thighs, too, and there’s a small bead of sweat at the top of his head. You wondered how impatient San would be, knowing that San hated your silence, but it seems to be a different case for Mingi.

It had been at least a minute before Mingi finally spoke, San’s breathing slightly heavier. “I wanna take off (Y/N)’s top.”

“You do?” San asks, smirk showing through the phone. Mingi nods, even if San can’t see him, hoping to have you understand how he feels. You can feel it, don’t worry. “Okay. Do it.”

Mingi lets out a relieved breath. He props himself up on his elbows and to help him you move down to his thighs, allowing him to sit up completely. You hope he notices the wet stain on his sweats, not that you knew if it was from him or you.

Your phone is sat to the side of the two of you, San still connected on the line. He’s gone quiet now, likely listening for any noises he can. He doesn’t know if you’re listening, but he doesn’t address you at all. Instead, Mingi gives you all the attention he needs. The thin black top you’re wearing is slowly lifted by Mingi, revealing your bra underneath. You let Mingi dispose of the top to your right.

“What’s she wearing, Mingi?”

“Blue bra,” Mingi tells him.

“Give me more than that,” San continues, tone becoming more firm. His voice is slightly deeper as he asks Mingi again. “I want to know everything.”

“It’s uh… it’s midnight blue lace,” Mingi says. His attempt to adhere to San’s words has you giggling. The noise is enough to bring the confidence back to him, his hands reaching for your shorts. “And black shorts. Thigh high socks. They’re black too. Can I… take off her shorts?”

San hums in response. Mingi is restless as he pulls your shorts down your hips, revealing the matching underwear below. You’d love to say you missed the way he licked his lips but that was something that would stay in your memory forever, too. You move around to get them down your legs, leaving them to the side of the sofa alongside your top.

Mingi reaches for your underwear but you stop him before he continues. “Ask first, baby.”

“Can I take off her underwear?” Mingi questions, restless words leaving his lips with the first hint of annoyance you’d seen. So he was a touch on the bratty side? Or maybe it was just you.

“Take everything off,” San confirms. You can hear his zipper being pulled down and it leaves a lingering thought of who was really in control. “Leave the socks. They’re hot.”

Mingi nods in agreement. “They’re really hot.”

“We have the same taste,” San says. His voice catches in his throat for a second and you realise he must have just touched himself then. He chuckles to himself, though Mingi has his attention on your exposed body, all for him. “Is it off, Mingi?”

“N-No.”

Mingi makes a grab for your bra, reaching around you to undo the clasp. You wonder if he’s got beginner's luck or if he’s seriously trained, because he undoes it straight away and sits back to admire you. He spends a little too long staring for your liking, so you bring his hand to the hem of your underwear and hook his fingers around it.

Catching your hint, Mingi drags your underwear down your thighs. Again, you let him take them from you, leaving you exposed on his thighs. His eyes are shining at the sight and he’s unable to keep his mouth shut. San must have realised what was going on, because he breaks the silence that Mingi so badly wanted to continue.

“I know she’s beautiful, but let’s not stop there.” San gives Mingi a moment to come back to, the younger’s eyes moving from your chest, to your eyes, and then to the phone to await further instruction. “What do you want to do now, Mingi?”

“I wanna taste her.”

“Tell me how she tastes.”

Mingi’s action show how badly he was truly wishing to be in San’s position. He’s not rough with his actions, he’s just desperate, pushing you back against the arm of the sofa with your legs wide for him. He looks like the gift he’s always wanted has been placed in front of him, his for the taking after all this time waiting.

You’re not sure what to expect. You know he won’t be like San, but you never expected it to be so different. San was careful with how he moved, he planned everything out in his head and he made sure what he was doing would rile you up ten times more. Mingi, on the other hand, has one goal and that’s to have you begging him not to stop as you cum on his face. He’d dreamt about it so many times already, but he never imagined it would be better in person.

“She’s so sweet,” Mingi says, voice vibrating against your sensitive core. You whine when his nose bumps your clit, most likely by accident, though reach for his hair to push him closer to you a second later.

San says something, you’re not sure what. You’re too focused on Mingi; how he touches, how he feels, whatever he’s doing to make you feel this good. His movements aren’t at all organised, he barely puts any thought into how he licks your sit and sucks at your clit, he just does whatever he thinks will get you to your high.

How could he not be jealous of San when you’re this good already? He’s addicted and you’ve not even let him fuck you. That was next on the list. He would feel so big inside of you.

The thought of Mingi fucking you makes you moan again, head thrown back as you cry out his name. He briefly looks up to you but doesn’t want to lose his concentration, so goes back what he was doing without another distraction. Everything you’re doing boosts his confidence, even moan, every whine of his name. It only gets worse when you shamelessly rut against his face, riding him for everything it’s worth.

Honestly, you don’t think anyone has made you that close to cumming so quickly. Not even San.

“Stop it now, Mingi.”

You miss San’s words, but Mingi doesn’t. The boy was already stepping on eggshells, he didn’t want to make his friend angry. He takes your hand from his hair as he sits up, lips and chin glistening in the light. You could see on his face how sorry he was for not listening to your whines to continue.

“She doesn’t cum until you do, remember?” San says, the previous interactions between you coming back to mind. Your heavy breathing is enough to have Mingi approaching you again, though this time he’s reaching into his sweats and touching himself. San must have been getting off to your cries for Mingi to carry on. “Be a good girl, kitten.”

“Fuck you, Choi San.”

He chuckles to himself, low breathing more apparent when you’re not so focused on Mingi. He still watches you as he jacks himself off, not that you can see anything. You can’t hide your frustration as you turn back to the phone, hoping that San will give you something. “I love you too, kitten. But Mingi is deciding what he does. What is it you want to do next, Mingi?”

“‘Wanna fuck her,” Mingi tells him through laboured breaths.

The youngest probably wouldn’t last that long given how tense he was and how his hips stuttered like before. You sit forward, reaching for Mingi’s arm and pulling him toward you. He steadies himself on one arm, hovering above you merely an inch from you. Fuck it. You don’t care. You wanted to feel his lips elsewhere, they were addictive.

“Go on then,” San says, his voice lost in the distance. You’re lost in the way Mingi’s lips mould against your your own, your taste still all over him as he rolls his hips against you. You break the kiss as you look down, trying your best to reach the band of his sweats to hurry him up. Mingi understands, doing the action for you, but goes back to kissing you without missing a heart beat.

San has gone too quiet for your liking. He could hear everything, he must be able to, but he barely says a word. He might not realise just how hard Mingi is, how he’s already got precum leaking from his sore, red tip. Mingi stops to ask you something, though San answers before Mingi can get one syllable out. “She’s on the pill. Don’t cum in her. Tell me how you take her.”

“Say I’m riding you,” you whisper, quiet enough that only Mingi hears you.

“What?”

“Just tell him that,” you say, hand on Mingi’s chin so he’s facing you. He doesn’t know San like you do. It doesn’t matter how badly San wanted this to happen, or how many times he’s fantasied about it, he wouldn’t want to think of you in such an intimate position as missionary for anyone but him. You press a short kiss to Mingi’s lips but you have to clarify what you mean when you realise Mingi is as still as before. “Listen to me. I want you to fuck me so badly. Just be a good boy and listen to me.”

He whimpers at that name. He likes being called a good boy? Interesting.

“She’s riding me,” Mingi calls out. You nod at him, happy with his work. You watch Mingi’s eyes closely, even when he looks down to watch himself guide his cock inside of you. The feeling of your walls around him has Mingi leaning down on your shoulder, unable to lift his head.

You were right, he fits so well inside of you. You give him a chance to catch his breath, not moving now that he was inside you. You rest your check against his hair, arm around his chest and latched onto his shoulder. How you hadn’t removed his top yet, you weren’t sure, but you were in no state to think about that now. “Move, Mingi.”

“Okay,” he stutters, trying his best to adjust his position. He keeps his head buried in your neck, the strength gone from his upper body, but he pulls his hips back so that just the head is inside of you, pushing himself back in a moment later. “Faster?”

You nod, nails scraping his skin through his shirt. You notice his hesitation but don’t comment, taking the opportunity to reach under his top and feel your skin against his. The sensation is enough to wake him to reality, his hips suddenly rolling and forth in a constant motion. The poor boy was going to have so many marks down his back tomorrow, should he remember to check. San would be jealous.

It was all a blur, really. You were a moaning mess each time he buried himself in you, the sound of his moans spurring you on, as well as San on the other end of the phone. You were sure San’s own noises were mixed in there somewhere, not that you’d have been able to make them out. No, you were only focused on Mingi.

“Are you close?” you ask him, voice shuddering each time he fucks into you. He nods, his lips on your shoulder and teeth digging into your skin. “Be a good boy and cum for me, then.”

He definitely liked being called that. His rhythm becomes uneven as he chases a high you’re both near. You’re still watching him as he gets louder, surprised when he looks up to meet your gaze when his pace falters. He pushes his lips against yours hungrily and he pushes himself into you one final time, ignoring San’s instructions that you’d both forgotten.

The feeling of his cum inside you, as well as your bodies being so close and the amount of passion he pours into your kiss, gets you to your climax, too. You’re not sure if San got there, you don’t know how much of it he even listened to, but after a few heavy breaths against Mingi’s lips you look for your phone to check.

“Sannie?” you ask, holding the phone closer to your mouth. Mingi takes incentive and rests his head against your shoulder again, breathing much heavier than yours, though he doesn’t move from inside of you. You call for your boyfriend again, his lack of a response unusual. “San.”

It’s then that you hear his heavy breathing, too. You wonder if he muted himself so you couldn’t hear how loud he was. San was never one to show you how badly you affected him nt unless it was for a reason. “I’m here, kitten. You did well. You’re such a good girl.”

His words of praise have you looking back to Mingi, wishing to say the same to him. He doesn’t appear too bothered by the conversation at hand. “What time will you be home tomorrow?”

“Can’t wait for me?” San asks. It’s then that Mingi looks up to you, waiting for an answer. You could see the insecurity shining straight through him. Maybe he wasn’t so different to San. “I’ll be home at four. I’ll expect you and Mingi to be waiting for me?”

“Okay,” you tell him, “I love you.”

“Love you too, kitten. Treat Mingi well.”

San ends the call for you, his composure regained must faster than the youngest. He feels your eyes on him again and looks up, expecting you to ask him something or at least talk. When you spend the time staring at him, admiring his pretty face, it clearly frustrates him. “What?”

“You’re cute,” you tell him, brushing his hair from his face, “was that your first time?”

“No!” Mingi defends. You’re not sure whether to ask him to move from inside of you yet, but you did enjoy the feeling. He was so big compared to San, his body was suffocating but you enjoyed it. Mingi chews on the inside of his cheeks when you leave him with silence. “Was I… bad?”

“No, baby,” you reassure him, “you’re just shy.”

Mingi hums. He’s definitely shy now. The soft blush on his checks comes back when he looks down and realises the position you’re both in. He’s not one for lewd things when he’s not in that mood. You can tell that he’s contemplating moving, but he enjoys the closeness, too. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

You ponder on his words for a moment. Could he really disappoint? Not when he could get you so wet over a few words. You wonder if San’s words apply to him, too. He’s addictive. He’s everything San’s not. He’s what you never knew you needed, up until you did.

“You’d never do that, Mingi.”

✲✲✲

“Is she nice, though?”

You frown at Mingi’s question, looking over to him with furrowed brows. The sunflowers in his hands brighten his face a little though you can see the nerves clear as day. “Stop worrying about it. She’s me but older.”

“You told me she hates San!” Mingi protests. He turns to you fully and makes sure his pout is prominent. “How can I not be worried? What if she hates me?”

“She dislikes my relationship with San, not San himself. She thinks he’s a good kid but too much like his grandfather. She won’t hate you because you’re the complete opposite of San’s grandfather.”

Mingi pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks away from you. He mumbles something which you don’t catch, before turning back to you with an even more panicked look. “Should I have worn something better? Like a suit or something?”

“No, you look perfect.”

“Perfect?”

You give Mingi a glance of a stare to tell him to shut up, though he doesn’t have much more time to overthink your choice of words. You hear the locks turn on the front door and turn back to face it, whilst Mingi perks up and appears to get more tense. You notice him turn to look at you once more and it gives you an overwhelming feeling to squeeze his hand and tell you that everything would be okay.

But you can’t, because your grandma’s wide smile greets you before you can reassure Mingi that everything will be fine.

“It’s been so long since you’ve come here dear!”

You hum at your grandma’s words, reaching forward to hug her so you could greet her a little more friendly than you were right now. “I came here two weeks ago with San, remember.”

“With San, of course I remember,” your grandma repeats, rolling her eyes in a teasing way. “He tries to woo me with gifts of jewellery every time he sees me. It’s getting old for me now, you should have the jewellery. But who is this handsome young man with flowers?”

Mingi shoots a grin at her though looks smaller where he stands. “Nice to meet you, halmeoni.”

“This is Mingi,” you tell her, appreciating her positive reaction to him. Your grandma was quick to judge anyone and she seemed to like Mingi so far. Perhaps it was his broad shoulders and cute smile. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“I hope he’s not one of those friends of yours that work with San,” she says, “are those flowers for me?”

Mingi nods once and pushes them in her direction. “I hope you like them.”

“Of course I do!” She says, taking them from Mingi and bringing them to her nose. She inhales deeply before letting out a sigh of contentment. “Hasn’t my favourite granddaughter told you that I love sunflowers?”

“Only granddaughter.”

“She mentioned,” Mingi says, “I’m glad you like them, halmeoni.”

She shakes her head, taking a step back to let you both in. “If you want to win me over then you just need to give me flowers. Her boyfriend never cottoned onto that. You already got it. Say, why isn’t he your boyfriend.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“He’s a lovely looking boy!” Your grandma shoots you a glare though remains friendly with Mingi, pulling him by the arm so he can come in before you. He looks back at you, fear in his eyes, though as soon as your grandma starts to talk to him and ask him questions about what his job is, he goes straight back to her.

Part of you is happy she’s taken a liking to him. There’s a saying that tells of how mothers know best, and grandmothers know better. If she liked Mingi, then there was a reason behind it. Mingi was the most likeable of Ateez, minus Wooyoung who could come across as cute and friendly (though his temper severely let him down), due to his sweet personality and caring nature.

You’d first heard about Mingi when San brought his name up at a charity dinner. He’d expressed his gratitude for how much Mingi has done for him over the years and, although you thought San may have been a little drunk, he said how much he loved Mingi for always helping him out.

Everyone spoke well of Mingi. Even the snippets of information you had heard from Hongjoong and Seonghwa were good. The pair of lawyers who cared for little more than themselves (making them no better than San, mind you) were surprisingly nice about the tall boy that was always happy to help.

Even if they didn’t appreciate him as much as they did with Jongho and Yunho.

It was definitely down to Mingi’s nature. As your grandma grilled him with an array of questions that she’d posed to San once before, you realised again the difference between him and San. Mingi wasn’t cut out for a life in the Triads. He took this job with Yunho because it was a way out. He didn’t belong in an environment like this and it showed massively.

Mingi belonged in a loving household with a halmeoni to admire him and a partner that cared deeply for him.

Mingi belonged in a household like what you’d always wanted, too. You’d have loved to live here with San and enjoy each day that passed knowing you were safe. You wanted San to live that life with you but that was never going to happen. San didn’t want that life.

It was Mingi who wanted to sit on an old couch and watch TV with family around him. He was the one who knew how to make halmeonis wish they married their grandchildren.

It was Mingi who wanted the same life as you.

“He likes tteokbokki,” your grandma says, admiring Mingi from a distance. She’d left him on the couch to speak with you about lunch. He looks up to you both and smiles widely when he realises you’re watching him. “I’ll have to give you my recipe so you can make it for him more often.”

“You’re giving me your recipe?”

She hums. “I told you I would when you found someone deserving of it.”

“Someone special, you said.”

“It’s the same thing.” She rushes over to a drawer in the kitchen to find a piece of paper to write it down. “San doesn’t like tteokbokki, does he? Mingi will enjoy it when you give it to him.”

✲✲✲

“Can we talk?”

You stop midway through dusting the TV, turning back to the oversized figure of Mingi in the back of the room. He looks down at you with wide eyes, fingers laced together. Your stare lingers on him for a moment before you look back to the TV and continue your cleaning. “Nothing good ever happens when someone says can we talk. Are you about to tell me something?”

Mingi laughs awkwardly, approaching with caution. “I am, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“It’s not bad!” Mingi defends, stopping a few feet from you. He smiles to himself before crouching down to your level. “Do you need any help?

You shake your head. “Tell me what you have to before I have a heart attack, please.”

“I was thinking about the other conversation I had with you.” Mingi’s words send you back to the previous time he said you needed to talk. It wasn’t all bad that time, though now he’s brought it up again you realise it never had a proper ending. “I told you I was jealous of San and that I wanted to make you feel good. You said it wasn’t bad but… I can’t get you out of my head.”

You raise your brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that… What are we? Are we dating? Are we together?”

“We, well...”

Mingi rolls his eyes at your delay. “We aren’t dating, there’s nothing between us. But it feels like there is. It feels like every time I see you I can kiss you, and when I sit down beside you we can hold hands. It even feels like I can tell my friends you’re my girlfriend, but we’re not, right? You don’t have feelings for me, do you?”

“It’s complicated, Mingi,” you tell him.

“Complicated?” Mingi questions. He scoffs, reaching for your hand to bring you towards him. He holds your hand over the middle of his chest, letting you feel his fastened heartbeat from inside his chest. “Do you feel like this or not towards me?”

You look across to him for a few seconds. Part of you wants to say yes. Part of you thinks that telling him yes will bring him some kind of happiness that he wouldn’t otherwise have.  What you don’t initially realise is that part of you will be happy if you told him yes. The small, tiny part of your heart that isn’t shackled by the thought of San, that is what makes you think that you can say yes to him.

Mingi sighs in frustration at your lack of response, his free hand reaching for your chest. He copies your action, holding his palm near to your heart to feel or yourself. You can’t hide it from him when he looks for himself. The relief on his face is more than you could ever hope for - he looks… joyful. Excited.

“So I’m not making this up?” Mingi says, pulling his hand away.

You look down to the ground, avoiding his gaze. You feel your heart start to pound even heavier. “This is complicated, Mingi.”

“‘Cause of San?”

You hum.

“You know just as well as I do…” Mingi leans forward again. He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath softly brushing over your cheek. You’re frozen in place as he reaches for your hair to brush behind your ear, the feel of his skin against yours sending a shiver down your spine. “He doesn’t love you. Not like he should. He loves the idea of you. What you could be with him. How he should feel with you.”

“Why do you act like you know my relationship with San so well?”

Mingi’s surprised by your response. He likely didn’t expect to have you such a response; maybe what he wanted was you to agree with him and tell him he was right so that you could consolidate his feelings. He wanted you to agree and say that he was right.

For what?

So he didn’t feel bad?

Did he not realise this entire time you felt terrible for lying to San about how much Mingi meant to you?

Mingi was a breath of fresh air into your life. A reminder that just because you think something is good, doesn’t mean it is good. You’d looked back on your relationship with San too many times and thought that you should end it to still think that you were rock solid. San was deluded by the thought that you loved him too much and that was enough to keep you together.

Mingi was deluded by his thoughts that you didn’t love San enough.

“Because I see you both,” Mingi tells you. You were unsure of his maturity. It shines through each of his words he wants to tell. “I see how he looks at you and what he says about you and… It makes me sick. It does. Do you know how he tells everyone about what you do for him? To him? He makes you out to be his slave. It’s not a normal relationship and you know it.”

“He loves me.”

Mingi scoffs. “You can love anything if it makes you happy. Doesn’t mean you make it happy too.”

You take a few moments to process his words. Despite the jumble of words at the back of your throat that you wish to throw his way, you can’t get them out. Why?

Mingi is right.

You can’t argue with him when he’s right - you’ll always end up back at the same point.

“You deserve someone who loves you just as much as you love them,” Mingi states. He reaches for your face, brushing his fingertips down your cheek. You lean into him, eyes falling shut with how delicate his touch is. “You’ve looked after him since you were younger. Why can’t someone look after you now?”

✲✲✲

“I was thinking… Jeju.”

“Jeju?” San questions.

“Yeah,” you return, looking up from your phone, “I checked with Seonghwa. I hear you’re trying to facilitate a relationship with the triad over there. Why don’t we go and kill two birds with one stone.”

San hums. He was occupied with a newspaper though it’s placed down beside him shortly after he considers your words. “You want to help me with our alliance with The Rose?”

“The Rose, that was it.” You vaguely remember Seonghwa saying it now. San is still eager to hear your answer. “Sure. Why not. You may find having me around has a few benefits.”

“Like what?”

“Like, you get your dick sucked at the hotel rather than when you get home.”

San rolls his eyes. “Do you think there’s something we could do differently? Has Seonghwa or Hongjoong said anything to you?”

“I just think it could benefit you if I was there to… add a little emotion to what you’re doing. They see you and think oh no, a super scary CEO who thinks of everything as money. They see me and think ooh pretty. I don’t know anything about them but I’m sure a few men could listen to me if I wore something revealing.”

“You’re not using your body to get them to be our allies,” San tells you, firmly. You can tell you’ve struck a nerve but fortunately San isn’t the type to get overly annoyed. With you, anyway. He turns down the TV in the background so he can properly speak with you. “I know it’s what Unnamed did, but there’s a reason they both fell. We follow what D6 have been doing. Wealth and growth.”

You hum, recalling the names from many of your conversations with Seonghwa. “There’s also a reason that Young K’s girlfriend got kidnapped.”

“You know about that?” San asks.

“Of course I do. It was pretty big news in the Triad world.” Unfortunately San always had a thing for assuming you didn’t know things that were going on around you. You hadn’t particularly realised until recently, as with many things. “Seonghwa also sent me some information about it.”

“I didn’t realise you were so close to Seonghwa.”

“I’m not,” you return.

San hums, though it seems disingenuous. He picks up his paper once again, unfolding so he can continue reading. “Jeju it is then.”

His off handed comment worries you less than it should. Maybe you don’t care. You should, and you would have before, but San as a whole doesn’t seem to bother you as much as he once did.

San was all you knew before Mingi. That’s not an excuse for… well, not cheating. You hadn’t cheated for say, physically anyone. Emotionally you might had. Now that you’d seen how Mingi is, how different he is to San, it was impossible for you to not begin to wonder what a life with someone else would have been like.

That didn’t mean you didn’t love San. He was still your San. He meant the world to you. He was what you’d always wanted and you couldn’t deny that. It just so happened that he was now turning into half of what you needed, moreover 49% of what you needed, and there was someone who matched the other 51%.

“You don’t mind that I talk to Seonghwa, do you?” you ask, looking back to San. You admire his small form as he sits cross legged with a basic tee on. He doesn’t look up to you, so you continue. “Or any of the members of Ateez, for that matter. You’re not bothered that we are friends, or that we talk, or… you know. Do you mind it?”

San continues to read for a moment. You believe for a moment that he was ignoring you, this is Choi San and you’ve heard from Yeosang that in meetings when he’s not happy he will sit there without saying a word until he’s formulated the right sentence in his head. Oh, without the rest of Ateez you would know so little about your boyfriend - it’s worrying really.

At the end of his sentence he looks up to you and keeps his lips pressed into a line. “You’re allowed to have your friends. That’s not a problem.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure if they are only your friends,” San tells you, “I know what we have going on with Mingi is different, but outside of that don’t think I want this to be an open relationship. You’re mine. Not anyone else’s.”

You hum in agreement, though it’s more half hearted than you would have liked. San doesn’t pick up on it. “I know. They are my friends. You think I would have feelings for Seonghwa? That man is a walking Ace of Spades. I couldn’tget feelings for him if I tried.”

San is quiet again. You know he would have laughed at that before, so there was something occupying his mind that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. And honestly?

You really weren’t in the mood to find out what was bothering him.

They say that a relationship ends when you stop putting work into it, not when you fall out of love. You loved San, in every way you possibly could, but there was part of you that kept whispering from a perch on your should that you should leave him before it gets too late.

San’s voice comes right on cue as you hear the front door’s locks turn. He notices how you look towards the door to see Mingi walk in and flash you a smile worth a thousand more words.

He notices everything; he is Choi San after all.

“I didn’t say anything about feelings.”

✲✲✲

“Mingi, we can’t.”

The very boy shakes his head, pushing you back against the wall. His leg lays between your own, hands holding your arms back against the wood. His gaze dips from your eyes, to your lips, then back again. “I need you.”

Before you can protest, Mingi’s hand reaches for your neck. He’s beyond gentle, his skin barely brushing against yours before his lips reach yours. The way he touches from your lips, all the way to your jaw, it’s incomparable to anything else you’ve felt before. The thought of San is gone from your mind, and as you kiss him back the one thing you can focus on is how gentle he does kiss you, yet how soft he is too.

It could have lasted forever and you would have been none the wiser. You’re lost in the spiral that is Song Mingi, reaching to pull him closer, when your phone chiming in the background brings you straight back to the reality you were stuck in.

You push him back from you, shaking your head despite his pout. He tries to kiss you once more, but you stop him with your palm flat against his chest. “No, Mingi.”

“You know that--”

He stops when you pull your phone from your pocket, holding it between the two of you. San’s name is on the screen, accompanied by a picture of the two of you which, if you had been listening a little more closely, left Mingi with a fracture in his heart and scoff leaving his lips. You answer his call, placing it on speaker for Mingi to hear, too.

You’re the first to speak, seeing that Mingi was still being kept from you with your free hand. “Hey, San.”

“Took you awhile to answer, kitten.” You’re worried he knows, the guilt of the past few weeks building up inside you. Before you can spill everything to him, he laughs to himself, the sound of his car’s engine roaring in the background. “Did you miss me?”

You hum, shakily at best, though San isn’t concentrating enough to answer. “Of course. I always do.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” You glance up to Mingi, his eyes still on only you. He almost begs for the attention you’ve been giving him, all of it now going to San. “Listen, I know I said I’d be home at three, but Seonghwa has sent me all the way to Muju to meet with a partner. I probably won’t be home until late this evening or early morning tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“You don’t have to ask me if that’s okay, San. It’s your job.”

San hums. “I have a gift for you when I get back.”

“Really?” San hums again to confirm. “What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait to find out. Be a good girl and wear that pretty white lace set for when I’m home. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

His words provide you with a defence to Mingi’s actions, though there’s something missing and you know it. You take a moment longer than usual to answer, looking to Mingi as you speak to San. “I’ll wait up for you, then.”

“I’ll be thinking of you every minute until I get there, kitten.”

It’s silent for a moment. You’re not usually silent with San, though you’re not sure what to say to him. For the first time he really isn’t the one plaguing the majority of your thoughts. The strength in your hand on Mingi’s chest gets weaker and he notices, taking a step forward before you can speak.

But again, San blocks him, and you’re left with a decision you’re not sure you can make.

“I love you.”

You swallow harshly before you reply. “I love you, too, Sannie.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. He can probably see through the lie. He knows you too well to ignore your hesitation. He knows you call him Sannie when something is bothering you.

You’ve known him since you were kids, barely a day into your school life and you two were friends. It may have been different in high school. You may have hooked up a few times as you got older blurring the lines between friendship and love, and you may have eventually crossed into the boundary of being together when you realised there was more to the two of you than just platonic and sexual feelings, but San knew you better than anyone as a friend, too.

And would he pick you over work?

Would he have rather said to you that, should you want him to come home and not go to Muju, he’d have come up with an excuse to see you?

You’d never know.

“I’m okay,” you repeat, looking down from Mingi. You keep your hand on his chest, though focus your attention on San for a little longer. “I was just trying to reword something. I told Hongjoong that the contract he needed editing would be done for tonight and it’s not very well written. I love you, San. Please drive safe and remember to drink water.”

San takes a moment to respond, though he seems satisfied enough to let you go. “Okay, if you say. Don’t work too hard, if Hongjoong is giving you tight deadlines, I’ll make him change them, okay? I can’t wait to see you. Talk to you soon. Love you.”

He ends the call, leaving you alone with your thoughts and Mingi once again. You stare at the phone for a moment, though you’re brought back to Mingi within a few seconds. The two of you are only looking, Mingi’s eyes boring into you with all the want and need he could ever have, though you’re the one that moves your hand to his lips, thumb ghosting his bottom lip that’s still wet with his desire.

You’re the one who initiates it this time.

You toss your phone onto the seat by your desk, turning back to Mingi to return the affection he’d tried so desperately to show you. He seems surprised by your actions, lips tackling his own in solitude, his stillness showing you just how surprised he was to be the respondent now.

When he finally brings himself back to reality, he kisses you back like he always wanted to. One hand resumes on your neck, the other on your waist. He whimpers gently at the way your fingers comb through the back of his hair, slightly tugging on his overgrown roots. Something comes over him, likely the emotions of a love story he never thought would come true, and he starts to push you backwards towards the bed.

Once your legs hit the side of the bed you let yourself fall backwards, Mingi following your actions. He leans over you, still submissive to your touch though advancing like he planned on doing before he came into your room before. He moves to your jaw, pressing the lightest of kisses he can until he’s moved all the way down to your collarbone. He won’t leave a mark on you, he knew all too well that it would be a bad idea.

He looks up to you, arms holding him above you, eyes searching for you to give him what he needed. “Runaway with me.”

“Mingi--”

“We can go to Singapore.” Mingi sits back on his knees, still straddling you. “We can… I have a friend in Singapore who we can stay with. We can go. Just us two. No San, no Ateez. I want to be with you. Not what we have here, not with San watching over us, I want just want the two of us.”

You stare up at him. It didn’t cross your mind that he meant something else by needing you. You let out a deep breath, not moving beneath Mingi. “I’m with San. I can’t.”

“You’re with him because it’s all you know.” Mingi reaches down to you, cupping your cheeks with his thumbs spread under your eyes. He strokes over your cheek, lip pulled between his bottom lip. “He doesn’t love you. You know that, don’t you? San has never loved you. Not like I do. He loves you in the way that… you hear him! He calls you kitten because you’re a pet to him. For him to have sex with! Nothing else.”

Again, you’re pushing Mingi from you. This time he complies, shuffling off the bed until he’s stood adjacent to you. You sit up, legs still over the side of the bed, pushing your hair back over your head. “Don’t talk about him like that, Mingi. He’s your friend.”

“I love you, so much,” Mingi says, ignoring your words. He crouches down in front of you, keeping your eyes on him. “I know you think I’m immature, that I’m just some dumb guy who’s got a good aim and looks tough. I know you didn’t want to be friends with me and that you were mad at San for letting me stay here. But I promise you, with all of my heart, that all of this time I’ve spent with you has led to me falling so deeply in love with you that I can’t imagine a life where I’m not with you.”

His confession doesn’t shock you as much as you thought it would. Perhaps you saw it coming. You wonder if, given the fact Mingi projected everything to you, that he would follow you around like a lost puppy, that he would talk to you like San once did, that he’d be willing to drop everything for you, this was all obvious from the start.

You could have seen it coming. The way he looked at you across the room. How he wanted to talk to you and hear your voice whenever he could. When he shared his deepest and darkest secrets with you. Everything he did sent him into a spiral that was you.

“We could be happy,” Mingi tells you, a surprising addition to his speech. You told him you weren’t happy. He told you that you weren’t happy. What else would he have concluded?

“He’d find us,” you answer. Mingi frowns at your words, though he listens intently. You brush his loose hairs from his forehead but Mingi reaches for your hand to stop you in the hopes you’ll continue speaking. “He won’t let that happen. He’ll find us and he’ll make us regret it. You know that just as well as I do.”

Mingi shakes his head. “This is different.”

“How is it different, Mingi?”

“‘Cause I’m his friend, and he cares about us both! He wants what’s best for us!”

You look away from Mingi, to the picture on the side of the two of you. You’re both so young in the photo, barely a day over seventeen, not too long after San asked you to be his. “You don’t know San at all.”

“Then tell me.” Mingi places his hand on your cheek once more, pulling your attention back to him. “What is it that I’m not getting? What is it that’s keeping you here? What are you so scared of?”

“San will do anything to get what he wants, Mingi, and what he wants is for me to be here waiting for him each time he comes home. For you to be a good friend to him and make sure his enemies know why he’s feared in the nearest provinces! San has a whole life planned out in front of him and if we change that… you know what will happen. You know what he does to people that have wronged him. You know that San doesn’t give a shit about anyone other than himself.”

For the first time in a long time, Mingi is voluntarily quiet. He stares at you, blinking as little as he can, your words making their way through his brain. You’re given another opportunity to look at him properly.

The messy hair he forgot to tame because you said it looked cute. His glassy eyes that were caused by this whole situation. His pale skin that got worse each day he spent in the shadow of another. This isn’t the Mingi you thought you knew before, it’s the Mingi that you’ve grown to know, to appreciate, and most of all, fallen in love with, too.

No one could take that away from him, because he knew what it was like to be in love and he saw it in your eyes, too.

So he continues to fight for his case, squeezing your hand as tightly as he can. “Doesn’t that just give you more reasons why you shouldn’t be with him any more?”

✲✲✲ MINGI + OC LEAVE

You’d never know what San was thinking.

Considering all of your relationship, everything he did and didn’t do, you were happy. Not as much as you could be; you were sure that the mindset you were in was a complete overhaul of emotion that you had poured into Choi San from the day you met him.

The truth was that he looked after you, and he was always there for you. You’d seen on Instagram, on twitter too, that it was okay to fall out of love. It’s natural. It happens. You were still in your early twenties and it was more than okay to realise that the only relationship you’d ever had wasn’t what you wanted.

It was easier because you’d found someone else you loved, that gave you everything San did and everything he didn’t.

“Are you sure about this?” you ask, hand resting over Mingi’s. You watch as he looks back over the hills he’s leaving behind, turning back to you with the smallest of smiles. Before he can answer, you press a short kiss to his lips. It’s too brief to feel, but enough for him to understand. “I’ll follow you to the end of the earth, Mingi. If you want to stay…”

Mingi shakes his head in response. “No. I can’t stay here. You can’t stay here.”

“We could have made it work.”

“San would never understand,” Mingi says. He picks up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “You can’t expect him to, either. It’s for the best, for all of us. By the time he’s home we’ll be halfway to Singapore and we can leave this life behind.”

You nod in agreement, facing the pavement for a moment until you’re ready to move on. You find yourself pulling at him to move, his gaze on the home you’d left without a second thought.

Well, saying that, there was a lot of thoughts that went into your decision but at the end of the day, it was Mingi you wanted to leave for.

Perhaps to please him, or to unconsciously get back at San for the things he didn’t do.

But what exactly didn’t he do?

You weren’t sure still, even if your relationship was far from being perfect.

“I’ll stop worrying about it eventually,” you tell Mingi. The sunglasses you wore covering most of your features from anyone who may just recognise you from San’s life. “You’ll get me through this. I know that.”

Mingi hums. “I’ll get you through anything, baby.”

“Baby?”

“Makes a difference to kitten, huh?”

Your over enthusiastic nod gives away your feelings. “I’m your baby, and you’re mine.”

“Don’t you think I’m a little big to be your baby though?”

“You are pretty big,” you answer, eyeing his innocent features. Mingi’s wide eyes are cute enough on their own, even more so when added to his pout and pink cheeks. “But you can still be my baby.”

Mingi’s pleased with your words, reaching around your shoulder to pull you into him. “I’m so lucky that I met you.”

“Even if you had to almost be killed to meet me?”

“I’m lucky that meeting you means I’m leaving that life, too,” Mingi confides. His innocence isn’t as deep as you’d have liked it to have been. He’d seen more than you could imagine, done and been in situations one could only have a bad dream about. San too, he’d been…

No, you need to get him out of your head.

San can’t be forever in your future.

“Everything works out as it’s meant to do,” Mingi tells you, sensing your lack of response. He presses a kiss to your temple, arm still linking the two of you together. “We’ll get through this one way or another. No matter what happens, we always end up where we are meant to be.”

He’s right.

No matter what shit you go through, no matter who drags you through the mud and pulls you back out, you will always end up in the same position that you fate had you in the whole time.

The worry you had was that San was in the same spot as you were.

✲✲✲

You’re sat on the edge of the bed, watching Mingi go through a bunch of clothes which he was keeping or donating, when your phone starts to buzz beside you. You feel like you’re on edge already, and for the first time since Mingi reassured you that everything would be okay, you were right back to worrying about the future.

Incoming call from Sannie.

“Who is it?” Mingi asks, noticing that your attention was on your phone. Your lack of an answer is enough to have him walk closer to get a look himself. He stutters when he sees the name, too. “Don’t answer.”

“If I don’t answer, he’ll know something is wrong.”

“You don’t need to worry about him anymore.” Mingi understands how you feel. He’s worried for the two of you, too. He puts his feelings behind him in an attempt to comfort you, crouching down before you and placing his hands on your thighs to try and reassure you that everything would be okay. “We’ll be on a plane in a few hours. It’s fine. You won’t see him again.”

You swallow your tears in an attempt to stay calm, though a sob threatens to spill the second that you start to talk again. “It’s San. He’ll find me even if I was in the middle of the ocean with ten weights tied to my body.”

“I don’t want to be harsh, but he will let you go.”

“San and I have been together since we were sixteen. Do you think he’s just gonna let me go? Act like its fine that both of us disappear at the exact same time?”

Mingi shakes his head. “He will, eventually.”

“He’ll find us both so he can torture us like he did with Ziu when that sponsor decided he wanted to give his money to VAV instead of Ateez. You think he would just let this go? Everyone will know what we’ve done and…”

Missed call from Sannie (2)

Incoming call from Sannie.

“I need to answer,” you tell Mingi, pushing his hair back from his forehead, “let me get him off our trail for a bit. Then he won’t have a clue.”

“Okay,” Mingi says, nodding politely. You know he disagrees but you still know San better than him.

And maybe he was right not to answer, anyway.

“San, I’m--”

“Where are you?” San asks, not giving you a moment to speak. His words are rushed and it sounds like he’s walking around, given the interference in the background. “I’ve looked all over for you but I can’t find you.”

“I’m okay, San.”

San stops in his tracks. “You’re okay?”

“I’m okay, so why are you looking for me?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend and I want to know why you’re not at home,” San answers. He mumbles something incoherently before raising his voice again. “So I’ll ask again. Where are you?”

You look to Mingi for help for the first time in forever. He usually looked to you for guidance but now you’re stuck in a situation where being outside of your relationship with San was better. Mingi’s wide shining eyes make you wonder if he has a clue what to do, either.

“Mingi and I--”

“We’re leaving,” Mingi says. He says it loud enough for San to hear too, then takes your phone from you and places it on speaker. “I’m sorry San, but we are leaving.”

There’s a moment of silence before San speaks again. “What do you mean, you’re leaving?”

Come to think of it, what did you mean by that.

You and Mingi are leaving, to never be seen by any of Ateez again. You were leaving your whole life, all of your friends (even if they were all just San’s friends) and family, everything you knew behind, because you didn’t want to face San and tell him that you might possibly be in love with someone who wasn’t him.

You know that Mingi’s motives are good. You knew he did it because his crush on you turned into actual feelings and that became how much he loved you.

But yours? Maybe they were selfish. Maybe all the feelings you had inside were a mix of regret and excitement and relief. There was so much rushing around your head that picking out a particular emotion was hard to do right now.

There was something you did know, though.

Every time you looked to the innocent eyes of Song Mingi, watched him smile to ease your pain and try to make you feel better, you knew that there was a reason you met him.

Though you tried so hard to convince yourself that San was your soulmate, that every year you spent together was a completion of the future you were destined to spend together, there was something which wasn’t right. You blamed your home, his work, your lack thereof, his friends, whatever you could to explain the reason that something wasn’t right.

That thing, it might have been that you just weren’t meant to be. That his friends, Song Mingi, was right.

Right when you think you were ready to run straight back to San and tell him you were sorry, that it wouldn’t happen again and you were his forever, Mingi is there to hold your hand and tell you it will all be okay.

“I mean we are going and you won’t see us again.”

✲✲✲

Mingi is scrolling through his phone, your head rested on his chest watching the images pass on his screen. You were sure that he was just as worried as you were, every thought rushing through his mind then popping straight into yours. His other hand is on your hip, thumb rubbing small circles onto your skin to soothe you as best he could.

It had been a day since you saw San. Maybe a little more than that, but you had a plane out of here in the morning to stay with a guy Mingi knew in Seoul until you could organise somewhere to live in another country. How you thought this would work, you didn’t know. Mingi was paid well by Hongjoong but not enough to start a new life, especially when all you had to your name was the money your grandma gave you every so often. That wouldn’t pay rent for a month, let alone support the two of you.

“What’s on your mind?” Mingi asks, grasping your attention away from his phone. You look to him with wide eyes, leaving him without a response. "Are you worried?"

"Of course. We are running away together. It's not… Easy."

Mingi hums. "I know. But you trust me right?"

"I do. But against San? Maybe not. You know what he's like. I'd rather run from Hongjoong."

"He's not that scary. It's me and Yunho who are the scary ones."

You scoff. Despite Mingi's seriousness, you can't contain your smile. "Y0ur babyface doesn't scare me. You'd pout if I didn't kiss you."

"'Cause I love you…"

“You love me, do you?”

Your question is genuine, though you suppose it was an attempt to tease him. A soft blush appears across Mingi’s cheeks regardless of your intention. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” you tell him, leaning to kiss his cheek. “Who is your friend we’re staying with?”

“Changbin. He’s a friend of mine and--”

“And?”

“And Wooyoung.”

You inhale sharply at his answer. “He won’t… tell Wooyoung, will he?”

“I don’t think so?” Mingi answers, “he doens’t… Well he hasn’t got the whole story but I--”

“What if he tells San?”

Mingi’s reply is late, the delay sending more anxiety through your bloodstream. You look from Mingi to the TV in the back, a billion scenarios hitting you at once.

“He won’t say anything to anyone,” Mingi tells you. He strokes his fingers back through your hair gently. “Changbin is a friend and he’ll understand. When we get there, we can talk to him and--”

Mingi’s plan is finished earlier than he expected. He senses the danger before you do, though the firm knock on the door is enough for you to fear the worst.

Because, when it came to San, the worst does usually happen.

“Stay here,” Mingi tells you. He ignores your hand on his hip to stop him from walking away, his being focused on what laid ahead.

You follow him to the door, keeping your distance. You wait behind him, just peeking over his shoulder. You hear him take a deep breath before he reaches for the handle pushing it down slowly.

He hops the door a little at first, barely over an inch. The air is still for a moment, only until Mingi sees who’s on the other side and tries to shut the door again. No matter how much he pushes, it won’t shut.

It’s the freshly polished shoes that gives him away.

Mingi pushes as hard as he can but San’s determination gets the better of him. You’re both pushed back by San who forces his way inside with all his might.

And fuck it’s the eyes that give him away first.

“You’re fucking leaving!?”

San pushes Mingi but his eyes are on you. Mingi has his arms out to stop you from being hurt, San doesn’t seem to care, the shoes on the floor and room bin being kicked aside.

“You’re leaving me, huh?” San shouts, his fist around Mingi’s shirt collar. He pushes his younger to the side so that he can see you properly. “Thought you could just walk away, huh?”

“San, I--”

“Don’t fucking talk!”

You’ve heard him shout before, never at you though. His voice is enough to scare you into submission, body jolting in fear.

“I love you, Sannie,” he mocks, bitter laugh filling the room, “I’ll always be with you, Sannie.”

“San--”

“I told you not to fucking talk!”

His voice would shock anyone into silence. You take as many steps away from him as you can, just until your back hits the wall. San doesn’t follow, only watching as Mingi rushes to your side.

“I trusted you.” San’s words aren’t directed at you, rather the boy at your side. You can’t bare to look at Mingi, knowing that he’s blaming himself now. He’ll take all the blame when you both know the one in the wrong here is… you. No one else. You could have rejected him. You could have stayed with San. “You were meant to be my friend!”

Mingi’s words form more of a cry than an answer, “I am your friend, San!”

“Friend? Friend who’s sleeping with my girlfriend, playing on the fact I invited him, and taking her away from me? What kind of friend are you Mingi! You’re nothing more than a selfish backstabbing piece of--”

“I wanted this, San!”

San turns his eyes to you, his words ended by your statement but his thoughts still lingering. He scoffs, turning back as his hand is run through his dampened hair. His shirt is dirty, skin a dull shade. “You can wait your fucking turn.”

“No I can’t,” you answer, taking a step forward. Mingi reaches for your wrist to stop you moving forward any further. You look back to him briefly and then back to San. “I owe you an explanation, San, I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you and I know I should of but it was too hard for me too and… I know that’s not right but I…”

“It’s not fucking right, no,” San tells you. He laughs, head thrown back as his hands fall into his pockets. You’re scared to look away as he turns slowly on the spot with the manic laughter filling the air. “I was going to fucking propose to you!”

You’re still as San pulls a box from his jacket pocket. It’s a small box, light coloured wood, one you wouldn’t have expected from him. San chokes back a sob as he tosses it onto the bed, falling to his knees afterwards. You watch for a moment, held back by Mingi’s hand around your wrist, though it hurts you too much to watch San in that position.

He’s hurled over, crying into his hands with sobs leaving his body like you wouldn’t expect. You don’t have time to think over your decision, running to his side without any protest from Mingi. You fall to your knees beside him, arms around his form that seemed to small now.

You tell him I’m sorry like it’s your personal mantra, speaking it over and over again in the hopes he’ll listen to you. You can feel the tears pricking at your own eyes. You wish it didn’t hurt you as much as it did, and you knew that it hurt Mingi too, knowing you’d run straight back to San’s side at any given opportunity.

It takes a few minutes of his crying for him to calm down enough to look up to you. You hadn’t imagined San to cry before, his emotions stunted even with you. He raises his head ever so slightly to match your eye level, body still shaking ever so slightly. “What did I do?”

“It wasn’t you, Sannie.”

“What was it, then?”

You look down to the floor, knowing the answer you wanted to give was one which he wouldn’t have wanted to hear. You brush the tips of your fingers through his hair, unsure of how to phrase your answer. “I just… Mingi and I…”

“You love him?” he asks. San looks from you to Mingi behind you, anger burning through him. You can feel him tense beneath you, though he doesn't move. “You love Mingi, do you?”

“There’s more to it than that.”

“Why can’t you answer my question?”

Your eyes dart to the floor once more. You tighten your arms around him, pulling him into your chest. His body is weak, allowing you to have his head pressed against your chest as your rub your hand down his arm.

His body may have shown one thing, but his mind works so differently. “I’m waiting for an answer. Do you love Mingi?”

“I’m--”

San pulls himself from you, shoulders tight as he narrows his eyes at you. His demeanour changes completely when he realises all the jewellery he’s given you, the necklaces you usually wear, even the earrings and bracelets he’d bought for you, they’re all gone. He’s practically seething by the time he meets your eyes again.

“Do you love him!”

“I love you both!” You let your hands hit the floor a little harder than you planned, looking up to San in the hopes Mingi was already listening. You feel a tear fall from your right eye, more following it as your emotions take over you. “I love you both, and not matter what I do, I can’t change that. I love you, San, but I love Mingi too, and it hurts me more than you could ever know to think that I have to pick between you both because I’ve been selfish and I’ve fallen for both of you. It makes me sick to know I’ve done this to both of you but no matter what I do, I can’t pick one of you. I can’t.”

You’d have been stupid to assume that San would let you use that as an explanation, especially because it wasn’t very much of one already.

It was more of an excuse. I love you both, San, don’t hurt me please. Don’t hurt me like I’ve hurt you. I don’t deserve it. Did San deserve it? No. Neither did Mingi. Mingi didn’t deserve to see you sat on the floor across from San telling him that you can’t pick between either of them.

At the end of the day, it was going to be hard on them, not you.

Maybe you shouldn’t blame yourself, maybe you are a victim, maybe this is one big mess that is easily resolved.

San is a man of authority, and the three of you in the room knew that. What San wants, San gets. He’ll do whatever he can to get it that way. Everyone knew that. Everyone knew the man that San was and his ways to have every single thing under his control.

You catch his eyes for a few seconds, enough to spark an idea in the vast depths of his mind. He hums to himself before speaking. “You can’t?”

You shake your head.

“You have to,” he says. San clears his throat, pushing himself to his feet and dusting down his trousers. He isn’t over it, but he has a damn good poker face. Anyone else would have thought that was it for him. You know San all too well. “I don’t want to have to do this.”

San looks back to the door before his eyes return to you. You watch him with tear filled eyes as he reaches his hand down to your cheek. He doesn’t spare you a word, letting the sound of boots on the old flooring speak for themselves.

You look over his shoulder to see the figure of Yunho. He looks to Mingi with sad eyes; Mingi’s reaction is enough to show that Yunho isn’t about to do anything good. The best friends are in a staring competition that you eagerly spectate until San brings you back to him.

“I can’t just let you go, knowing what you do,” San tells you. He brings a shaky hand to your hair and strokes downwards. “You know everything about us, and I can’t let you walk away. It’s not just me you’re hurting, but all of us. I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to if you decide that a life away from me is what you want so badly. There’s no way to make this work. Nothing you say will make this any different.”

Your words don’t surface, only a whimper leaving your lips as you watch him pull a gun from his other pocket. His hands move slower than before, leaving you enough time to filly understand where he’s going with his words. You were stupid to think this would work. You were stupid to think that someone like Choi San would let you go so easily.

You still make an attempt to have him fall for your words like he always did. “If I stay with you, it’s going to hurt us both every day.”

“I thought you’d always love me,” San states, coldly. He cocks the gun in his hand and holds it closer to you. “I’ll always love you. I would pick a life with you where you resent me every day but you’re still alive, over one where I have visit your grave every day.”

What you’d never know is that he never had the strength to put you in your grave anyway.

[babbushka]

Each Eye (4/8)

Kylo was the most feared boss in the entirety of New York City. They said that the crime families were no more, that they had disappeared with the end of an era. You knew it wasn’t true, you saw first hand. The families didn’t disappear, they simply went underground, adapted.

Lucky for you, your man, and your family, no one could ever get rid of crime. Not really.

Mob Boss!Kylo x Reader

Word count: 8.5k Warnings: N*FW, mentions of violence/murder

Also available on AO3! 

                                                    --------------

It was true, what they said. About Kylo, about him being a monster. He was ruthless, focused, merciless. He had some wild thing living in his veins, simmering just underneath his skin, some evil harrowing thing with sharp teeth and curled claws and venom dripping from both sets of razors. 

You hadn’t tamed the beast, not by any means, but you certainly did a good job of keeping him occupied, you thought to yourself when the two of you had finished, your sore body littered with bruises and bites, sweet soft blooms in the wake of hard hands and grips too tight.

To your own credit, Kylo’s body didn’t fare much better; scratched to high heavens from your nails, bleeding in some parts from the force of it, dark splotches and marks all across his chest. But from his spot on the bed, whole frame shoved up against you, his fingers trailing in lazy patterns on your stomach as he kissed your cheek rosy from exertion in the afternoon sunlight, he didn’t seem to mind.

You took in a deep breath, let it out with a thoughtful hum, rolled off the bed and pulled him by the hand into the bathroom.

Another shower would be excessive, but a wipe-down was absolutely necessary, and he sat on the edge of the bathtub, beckoned you forward so you could stand between his legs.

“Good?” You asked, settled between his knees as he turned the faucet of the tub on, dunked a soft cloth underneath the spray when the water ran warm enough. 

“You’re always good.” He said with intense concentration as he began dutifully wiping you down.

“I meant you, my perfect darling. Are you good?” You asked, making his hand still for a moment from the praise as he turned those eyes up towards you, always looking up at you. He quirked the barest hint of a smile, just the flash of a dimple, and you knew he was preening, blushing from your words.

“I’m breaking out into song and dance.” He replied, deadpan humor of his making you laugh brightly, which in turn made him blush even more, blushing that he could make you laugh.

You couldn’t help but grin, card your fingers through his messy locks. They were clean from being washed only that morning, but the waves had tangled up in the process of him fucking the life out of you. Or maybe into you? Who knew, only time would tell.

“What are you wearing tonight?” You asked, partly because he seemed to be in a chatty mood, giving more than a one-word response. You liked when he was talkative, when he was smiling the way he was. It showed off those dimples you loved so dearly.

“I have a new velvet suit, was thinking about breaking that in.” He shrugged, big brown eyes filled with soul as he searched your face for your response.

You appraised him for a moment, how handsome he was. The way you could see the damage from the scar, how it had just very nearly missed his eyeball, how it had just very nearly avoided blinding him there. You leaned down slightly to kiss the high point of his cheekbone, where the split marred the flesh, as he carefully, adoringly, smoothed the cloth down the backs of your thighs, your calves.

“Velvet.” You finally said, pleased with his choice. “You know I love velvet. I’ll wear it too.” You decided, and he perked up, looking altogether too young, painfully young, in that way he sometimes did when he was excited.

“The red dress?” He licked his lips and you laughed just a little at his eagerness.

“No, I was thinking the purple.” You were sorry to say, tugged on his ear just a little and Kylo rolled his eyes fondly. He continued his ministrations while you hummed in thought, chewed on the inside of your cheek. Something had really been bothering you, from the moment you had regained the ability to form coherent thoughts, “I wonder what murder it was.”

“Hm?” Kylo asked, too occupied with pressing his thumbs into the red marks he left on your hips, occupied with cleaning your stomach.

“Pigs said there was a murder. I wonder who did it.” You specified, and he shrugged.

“It wasn’t any of our people, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” He said, and you chuckled, leaned down for a kiss one more.

“Do you think it could be the same person involved with sending those guys to rough up Larry?” You asked, as his hands dropped the cloth and he pulled you closer closer closer, until you were in danger of knocking him backwards into the tub, in danger of making him lose his balance as his lips were seemingly magnetized to your own.

“Yeah.” Kylo said, eyes slipping closed as you met him halfway and made out with him for a little bit before he pulled away with a low growl in the back of his throat, stopping himself from getting hard all over again. “And it probably is. I don’t entirely believe that it’s not Hux. No one else has the nerve to fuck around with us like that. Maybe we can talk more about it after dinner, I can call some guys and see what’s up, they can get back to me after we eat.” Kylo continued, and your eyebrows nearly shot up at such a speech.

You stepped back, gave him enough room to stand up, and it never failed to amuse you just how tall he was.

So tall and yet he bent – physically and metaphorically – to your will, to meet you.

You turned around to face the mirror, the long clean mirror that covered the wall of the bathroom, and smiled at the reflection of your naked bodies. Kylo stood behind you, and yet he was still so wide that you could see his sides poking out from behind you, watched as his hands slid around your stomach to hold you.

“Will you tell me where we’re going?” You asked, and he kissed your cheek.

“No.” He gave your lower stomach a little smack, before walking away in search of underwear, the chill of the room finally starting to settle in after being so hot from sex.

“But I want to know.” You complained playfully, laughing when a clean pair of your own underwear was chucked at your head.

“Tough shit.” He said, and though he didn’t smile, his eyes shimmered with a lightheartedness of his own.

You snatched them before the cotton could hit you in the face, and stepped into them while he watched with his own approving glare.

“Who d’ya think you are? Talkin’ to me like that?” You folded your arms in front of your chest, stalking towards him in manner that had him backing up out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

“Love you.” He said and you just snapped your teeth at him, making him snatch you around the waist and circle you around and around, to music that wasn’t there, dip you low so he could kiss your laughing mouth.

You eventually got dizzy, and pushed at his chest lightly with a big smile.

“Yeah yeah.” You rolled your eyes, pinched his ass when he set you right, “Go wrap yourself in velvet why don’t you?”  

                                                   --------------

Being that it was Sunday, Dopheld was available to drive you both to the restaurant. You and Kylo were snuggled up in the backseat of the car, you in your fur coat and matching hat, and he in his suit, his hand on your knee, possessive and hot.

You had to admit, you were anticipating something overly expensive and exclusive, like Le Bernardin, or Eleven Madison Park, so when Dopheld pulled the Bentley up to a rustic looking jazz club, you were both very excited and amused.

Kylo looked to you, gauging your approval for the place, and you nodded simply.

“Thank you, Dopheld.” Kylo said, before promptly getting out of the car and holding the door open for you.

Your driver only gave a bright smile in response, before driving away to do goodness knows what. Kylo offered you his arm and you took it easily, your heels careful of the ice that had started to form on the pavement.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ren! What an absolute pleasure it is to have you celebrate your special night with us.” The hostess at the door of the restaurant said when the two of you walked in, “Please allow me to take your coat, shall I escort you to our private room?”

Once again, Kylo surprised you by shaking his head as you shimmied out of your furs, handed them over with care.

“No, no thank you.” He replied, voice measured, deep. “We’d like our table to be right with everyone else.”

The hostess was undoubtedly surprised as well, but she was at least decent enough to not be so flustered. You felt bad, the poor woman had probably arranged for something special that would now go to waste. Kylo didn’t care, and stood there expectantly, waiting for the host to finish speaking with a waiter or two, to rearrange the seating.

“Right this way.” The woman said eventually, and Kylo gestured for you to go first, him trailing behind.

It wasn’t until you gave a habitual passing glance out the door, that you realized Kylo had asked Knuckles and Slip to keep watch over the evening. You smiled in their direction, knowing they could see it, before going deeper into the restaurant.

It was dark outside now that the sun had gone down, but you were sure it’d be black as night in this place no matter the time of day. It was a true and proper lounge, with a fully stocked bar encased in dark wood, small round tables covered in a white cloth and decorated with a tea-light candle and bouquet of flowers were arranged so that patrons and waiters alike could weave through the paths with ease. It was smoky, one of the last lounges that allowed smoking indoors you were impressed, and the lights were all dimmed low and golden, except for the lights which illuminated a stage. The thick red curtain was closed for now, but Kylo was checking his watch, so you knew something must be starting soon.

The host brought you to your table, a prime spot in view of the stage. Not too close that you’d be craning your neck all evening, but not too far away that many heads could get in your way. It was even close to the open dance floor, which would no doubt be filled with sentimental couples. You were already planning on being a sentimental couple yourself, as Kylo pulled your chair out for you.

“Who’s preforming tonight?” You asked the hostess, who glanced at the stage and then at her own watch.

“We’ve received a special request for the evening, it’s just our house band but they’re doing covers of Sinatra songs.” She replied, and you couldn’t help but suck in a breath.

“You’re so good, you know that?” You turned to Kylo, grasped his hand in an adoring squeeze as he shifted his chair to sit next to you as opposed to across from you.

You pressed your side right up against his as the host left, clearly wanting to give you space.

“Oh I’m even better, just wait.” He said in a rare display of cheeky confidence.

When the food arrived, it was a smorgasbord of all your favorites. It felt like the courses were never-ending, between the appetizers and the soup and the main dish with all its sides. Every bite was somehow more delicious than the last, and you wanted to know how Kylo had found such a place, such a hole-in-the-wall.

You wondered if it was in his jurisdiction, or if the owners just knew of him, like over at John’s.

Almost as soon as the food arrived, did the band get up on stage. Dressed like they were from the 1940s, transporting you back in time. Not in that hokey way of poorly made wigs and generic fedora hats, but in a considerate way, a thoughtful way, attention to detail in the history of the fashion, respecting the times.  

You hummed and tapped your foot along to the music as you and Kylo stared into one another’s eyes, being obnoxiously in love without a care in the world. He fed you, lifted your fork up to your lips, and you carefully avoided smudging your lipstick.

You’re both relatively quiet while you eat, too wrapped up in each other’s gaze and more than happy to simply enjoy the music. The singer did a wonderful job imitating the songs, putting his own spin on some of the intonation every now and again in a way you appreciated. But eventually, the last course was taken away, and you had the urge to dance.

One look towards the dance floor had Kylo rising from his seat and offering you his hand, which you gladly took, and he walked you to the middle of the floor. You weren’t the only couple there, not by any means – it felt like half the tables were empty of people instead swaying back and forth.  

When the big band orchestra played up Always, you couldn’t help but grin and blush, duck your head just a little, just enough for Kylo to tip your chin back up to meet his gaze through lidded eyes. His arm slid around your waist, his other moving to grasp your hand as he turned you round and around on the dance floor.

And people always said you were the sentimental one, you couldn’t help but think as the singer up on the stage crooned out your wedding song. Kylo himself was starry-eyed, chewing on his lip, and you didn’t deny him a kiss, didn’t deny either of you a soft, romantic kiss.

The lounge was hazy and smooth, and though you’re surrounded by other couples in diamonds and pearls, you feel like the luckiest woman on earth, the only woman on earth.

“How come you wanted us in the middle of everyone?” You asked softly, a small smile on your lips as the two of you waltzed slowly to the music.

“I saw some familiar faces when we walked in. Figured they wouldn’t cause a scene if we were out in the open.” Kylo said, and your brow creases slightly.

“Where?” You asked, and Kylo’s jaw clenched, he rotated you both around so that you’re facing the opposite direction.

“Just past the big pillar.” He said, low in your ear, as his lips brushed against the back of your cheek, pressed a chaste kiss to your skin. You hummed and let him keep kissing as you searched for who might be there to bother you, when your eyes landed on them.

The brother sister duo of Roisin and Connor were chatting near the great marble pillar which supports the ceiling of the ritzy lounge, and you held your eye contact when they took notice of you noticing them. They looked good, you had to admit. The deep green satin dress complimented Roisin’s ginger hair and freckled complexion beautifully, and you couldn’t ever recall a time where you didn’t see Connor in a suit. His wasn’t velvet like Kylo’s, but it was still tailored well enough and had big enough shoulder pads to broaden him out a bit.

“Fuck.” You breathed when they decided you’ve been staring too long, “They’re Irish. And they’re coming over.”

Kylo seemingly didn’t mind too much, not in the moment anyway, and just kept dancing with you as they made their way across the floor, joining in and dancing with one another to not seem so conspicuous.

You and Kylo did your best not to look suspicious, not to look alert, not even when they wound up dancing right next to you. Seemingly nothing but two couples, strangers in this great big world, happening to steal a piece of the beauty of the moment.

That is until the song ended, and there’s polite applause for a song well sung, until they turned to face you as the man took a big swig of water and shared a small anecdote that has the crowd chuckling in amusement while the band set up for the next song.

“Kylo, (Y/N).” Connor kept his voice low, at least had the decency to nod his head in respect, “Fancy meeting you here.”

“What do you want?” Kylo cut right to the chase, and Roisin laughed in that quiet, elevated way people of high society laugh.

“A dance.” She said, and you’re prepared to claim your man right in front of her, when she surprised you by looking right at you and specifying, “With (Y/N).”

“No.” Kylo said immediately, grip around your waist tightening. But something in Roisin’s appraising gaze is calculating enough to interest you.

“One dance.” You said, that gaze a challenge. You’ve never been known to back down from a challenge.

Kylo and Connor both exchanged glances, and Kylo’s jaw worked and worked and worked to keep his mouth shut, as he nodded, as they both walked to the sidelines.

He’s not happy about it, not happy one fucking bit, but you wanted to know what’s going on. Roisin’s skin was soft where her dress wasn’t covering her, thin spaghetti straps showing off her toned arms. She assumed the leading position, which you found you didn’t mind.

“Roisin, is everything okay?” You asked, brushing a strand of curled hair off of her shoulder.

“No, they’re not. We’re here to serve as a warning.” Roisin said with a bit of a sigh, and you nodded.

Warnings were messy, they always were. You didn’t have a gun on you, didn’t think you’d need it, but you knew Kylo had three on him right now, he could intervene if he needed to. You may not have had a gun, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t kill her right then, right there.

And you would, but you wanted answers first.

“Just tell me something first, is it Hux?” You asked, as she twirled you slowly, dipped you down down down, stomach fluttering from it as she raises you back up, all too similar to how Kylo had in the bathroom.

“Is what Hux?” She asked, and you didn’t really appreciate that, playing dumb.

“The person committing all the murders, sending guys to harass our business owners?” You spelled it out, gave her that much leeway.

Except.

She faltered the dance for a moment as she frowned, her pale brows knitting as she regarded you for a moment. In your peripheral, you saw Kylo and Connor tense, incredibly tense, as they watched the two of you on the dance floor.

“Wait – we thought you were the ones committing the murders and sending guys to harass our people.” She said quietly, her hands reclaiming your waist and palm, resuming the dance once more.

It wouldn’t do to draw attention, not now.

“We haven’t sent anyone anywhere.” You shook your head, now thoroughly unhappy with the proceedings of this Midtown disaster. “Shit, you’ve got people dying too?” You asked, and she groans in the back of her throat, nods.

“Yeah, fuck. Well this makes it awkward.” She sighed, careful to avoid stepping on your toes as she spun you around, and ahh there it is.

“Makes what awkward?” You prompted, just to get it out of the way.

“I’m supposed to kill you. Hux thinks Kylo’s crossed a line, one of his favorite suppliers was found carved up last night.” She explained, and you hummed thoughtfully, because really by all accounts his reaction makes sense given his perspective.

Too bad it’s the wrong one.

“If you’d like you can give it your best try.” You offered Roisin, who looked at you like you’ve got three heads.

“You’re going to let me murder you?” She asked, and you laughed brightly, shook your head.

“I’m going to let you try.” You specified, making her grin.

Many people have tried.

Roisin reached in between her cleavage and pulled out the smallest little gun you’ve ever seen, one that probably could only hold three or four bullets, one that she pressed against your hip, leaned in close, her perfectly applied lipstick very close to your cheek. The metal was cold, cold enough that you could feel it through the velvet of your dress, and she hummed, her lashes tickling your skin.

Before she can cock the trigger and plant her literal kiss of death, you reached into your hair and pulled out the long needle that you’ve used as a decorative pin to hold your locks up, and swiftly pushed it between her ribs, penetrating that pretty green satin. The needle slid into her flesh like she’s made of butter, and you couldn’t help but smile just a little as you turned your face to press a kiss to her own cheek, leaving the pretty imprint of your deep red lips.  

“Damn.” She chuckled with a wince, as your hand was now pressed right against her skin, as you let go of the needle. It remained deep inside her, puncturing one of her major arteries. She tensed up immediately from the pain, “You really are fast.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You whispered, “You can keep that.” You tap the pretty handle of the needle, encrusted with jewels that you’ll be sad to miss.

But if you pulled it out of her right now, then she’d die practically on the spot, and that would cause a scene. You very well couldn’t have that.

Not on your anniversary.

“I suggest you leave.” You said, as the song ended, her one dance up. You turned to the singer and applauded along with everyone else, as Roisin started to cough. You didn’t bother looking at her again while saying, “And if you make it long enough, when you’re out of the hospital tell Hux we didn’t send anyone to do anything. This was in self-defense.”

“Fair enough.” Roisin groaned.

“Actually,” You said, stopping her before she could get too far, “I do really want to keep this, if you don’t mind.”

With wide eyes she was unable to stop you from reaching out and pulling the needle out of her stomach. Connor rushed over, as she immediately doubled down onto herself, clutching at the rapidly growing dark splotch in her dress.

He hurried the two of them out of the lounge, with only a minor commotion. The way Roisin was hunched over herself made it look more like she was suffering from food poisoning than a stabbing.

“Do you mind if I borrow this?” You asked a near-by table for their napkin as Kylo wove through the crowd like a shark.

You gave the man seated at the table the most dazzling charming smile you could, and he didn’t think twice about handing over his black cloth napkin. You gratefully took it right when Kylo showed up, slid his arm around your waist and shot the meanest glare he was able. You only kissed Kylo’s cheek, and having now procured the napkin, returned to the dance floor with him, leaving the man in the dust.

You wiped the needle off on the cloth and were about to twist your hair back up when Kylo lightly stopped your wrist.

“Keep it down.” He said, and you smiled, slipped the needle inside his jacket pocket. He began to dance with you again, as you both surveyed the floor – it was clear of blood, which was good. Didn’t need the pigs snooping around more than necessary. Still, Kylo had been out of earshot, so he was curious when he asked, “What happened?”

“She’ll be dead by the time they get to the car.” You mused, but he wasn’t smiling.

“Yeah but why?” He asked again, and you chewed your lip in thought.

“Hux thinks we’re the one fucking up all over the place. It’s really not him, Kylo.” You said, and his jaw clenched tight again.

“Someone is trying to pit our families against each other.” He made the obvious statement just to make it, just to try and make sense of it, “But I don’t know why.”

“There’s a lot of sick sons of bitches out there, but there’s even more stupidity. Ask the KoR to feel around just like you said, there’s got to be some evidence of this mystery person.”

“Okay.” Kylo nodded, already reaching in to take out his phone. “Also, I want to go, tomorrow. I think we should.”

You gave him a questioning glance for a moment, his decision surprising you for a moment longer, before you huffed a small laugh and plucked the cell phone right out of his palm, and he rolled his eyes. He worked too much, you thought.

“It can wait until we’re on our way home.” You puckered your lips, and Kylo, the man so in love as he was, swooped down to plant a loud smack right to your lips.

                                                   --------------

It took less than thirty seconds after the front door closed for Kylo to be all over you, hands all over you, lips all over you.

You let him, in the dark of your foyer, you let him.

“You were so good today.” You breathed, allowing yourself to simply feel adored, to let Kylo give whatever he wanted, take as much as he gave.

“Was I?” He asked, licked his lips, eyes wide, bright in the moonlight.

There was something there, something eager and filled with anticipation – but a hunger as well. That same hunger he had shown you earlier in the day, that same hunger he always seemed to have, stomach of the beast rumbling for you.

“Yes, very good. Tonight was so wonderful.” You whispered, cupped his cheeks in your hands and kissed him too sweetly, licked gently into his mouth in the way that made him keen and whine, desperate.

You let your hand fall to his crotch, shoved it down his trousers and found his cock already hard, already so full for you. You gave it a few good, even, steady strokes, ones that had his huge frame twitching, curling in towards you, shoulders rounding in and making himself small, making himself try and swallow you whole.

“I-I’m glad.” He moaned, and you smiled, kissed the corner of his open mouth as you sped up your hand a little more, used the pre-come that was slowly oozing out of his cock as lube to wet your hand more and more.

“I think someone deserves something sweet.” You pulled away, leaving him frustrated in the most delicious way.

“Let me eat your pussy?” He asked, so quick, like he had been hoping for this, had been planning for it.

“Get me naked first.” You ordered, and he was eager, desperate to do so.

So desperate in fact, that he didn’t even make it to the bedroom. He walked you to the living room, and splayed you out on the couch, shedding your layers on the way.

You had surprised him, by not wearing any underwear. This was both of your night, after all. You winked at him when he kneeled between your legs, fully dressed while you were now naked. He groaned into your skin just from the sheer lust he felt for you, buried his face between your knees in a way that made you laugh.

He thunked his forehead against your thigh and kissed the spot there before pulling your hips to the edge of the couch.

You were growing impatient yourself, and you helped the process along by propping your bare foot up against the shiny coffee table that would no doubt be smudged with your oils and sweat in a few moments, after he had had a taste of you.

You propping your foot up gave him a little nook between your legs that he could live in, and live there he did. He closed his eyes and breathed you in, breathed in the smell of your cunt, running his hands up and down your calves, the backs of your thighs, just breathing, until his mouth was literally watering so much he had to swallow hard, and then he dove in.

“Yes!” You gasped when he finally did breach you.

His tongue felt so good against you, the way it wriggled deep inside you, the way it dragged against the walls of your pussy, and you moaned loud, unashamed. His hands gripped your hips as he pushed his face as close to your cunt as possible, his nose rubbing against your clit, prodding it there as he spread your folds with his tongue and lips, sucked them into his mouth, swallowed down all the slick that your pussy gave him.

“Oh,” You gasped, chest heaving as you tangled your hand in his hair, the other gripping the cushion of the couch, “Fuck it’s so good, you’re so good.”

He moaned into you, and fuck that was a feeling you could cry from, the devastatingly deep baritone of his voice radiating through your body, right into your very core. He pulled away though and you complained, verbally protesting with a disappointed groan, which had him pleading with those eyes, kissing the inside of your knee.

“What -- ?” You asked. You could see your juices all over his goatee, in his beard and there was something sick and delicious about the way he licked it off his moustache.

“I have to fuck you.” He explained, shucking off his four-thousand-dollar suit like it was made of paper. “I have to, get inside this tight cunt.” He begged, and you nodded, frantic.

“Take me, come on, take what you want, make me come.” You were just as eager, just as desperate, and you made room for him on the couch, shimmied up it and laid horizontally across the cushions so he could settle himself between your legs.

He slid in easily, smeared his body against yours.

“Oh shit.” He groaned, sinking deeper and deeper into your hot pussy, breathing hard against your throat where he had buried his face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, made for me, just for me.”

“Kylo!” You whined his name, threw your head back when he began to thrust.

“I’m going to make you scream my name, I want you to scream for me, I want all of Manhattan to hear you crying on my dick.” He promised, and you could see it, could feel it, the way the monster was peeking through, the way his eyes had glazed over, so in love with you.

He built up a rhythm that had you shouting in no time, breath hot in his ear as he bit down on the spot where your neck and shoulder met. His hips rolled against yours, ground into yours, and your knees dropped open from the pleasure of it, legs turning to jelly and jam, melting under his touch.

“Oh please,” It was your turn now, your turn to beg, as tears welled up in your eyes under his ministrations, as he fucked fucked fucked you, touched you.

And oh did he touch you everywhere, every linger of his fingers a reverence, a declaration. He fucked you, hard and rough, skin slapping on skin, with one foot planted on the floor to give him the amount of leverage he needed, to let him really slam his hips so hard against yours that it felt like he was fucking your throat -- but he did it with nothing short of wonder in his face, that he could have this, that he could have you.

Three years you’d been married, a lifetime of love before that, and still despite it all, he always considered himself so lucky to get to take you apart like this.

He lifted one of your legs where it had gone limp, lifted it up and over his shoulder so he could plow into you faster, harder, punching the air out of you, the high shouts and moans and gasps out of you. All of it was music to his ears, all of it was praise, and all of it only made him want to work harder, only made him crave you more deeply.

He growled, angry suddenly, angry that he couldn’t just do this all the time, couldn’t just live in your pussy like he wanted, and nearly snapped you in half as he manhandled you instead onto your hands and knees. He draped himself across your back, kissed your spine, the nape of your neck where he pushed all your hair away.

His body was a cage around yours as his hips shoved his cock deeper into you, a better angle, a better and more filling feeling, having him fuck you from behind. His arms were strong and the muscles there worked effortlessly to hold himself up as he ground into you, as his cock knocked up against your cervix in a way that was nearly painful.

He let one hand slide against your abdomen, let his hot and sweaty hand feel you. He swore he could feel your heartbeat in your pussy, right there for him, beating wildly and erratically just the way he was for you. He bit down on you hard, drank in the sound of your cries as that hand moved lower and lower, until he was toying with your clit, zig-zagging across it in a way that had your shoulder-blades pinching inwards as your arms gave out under you, your upper half collapsing down onto the cushions.

He wasn’t done with you, not even while you came, still pushing into you. He was hot, dripping sweat all over your back, his goatee scratching up your skin as he mouthed and sucked at you.

You could feel it, eventually, when he did come, when his hips finally pressed up against yours for the last time for the evening, when he crushed you into the couch with his weight.

“Honey?” You asked, voice muffled from where you were smushed into the couch.

“Uh huh?” Kylo panted, eyes shut tight, still coming inside you.

“Maybe don’t kill me on our anniversary.” You laughed, huffed a little, and he huffed out too, kissing the spot between your shoulders and rolling you both over.

He mis-calculated though, and you both rolled onto the floor with a yelp.

At least you landed on top of him, and laughed.

He looked up at you, always looking up at you, with such love in his eyes that you simply had to kiss him, you had to, so you did.

And if the two of you stayed there on the floor, on top of the plush rug of the living room, covered in sweat that was cooling to only a light itch, the great expanse of the city just outside your window, the Chrysler building all lit up, well, who could blame you?

                                                   --------------

The next day, you both found yourselves in Long Island.

Standing outside Leia’s door.

You held a casserole dish in your hands, one that was covered with tin foil, and Kylo was doing his very best not to bolt back to the car where Dopheld had parked it in the driveway.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, standing out front on the doorstep. “It’s not too late to turn back now, if you want.”

“No.” Kylo grit out, and your heart broke a little.

Before you could press him on the manner, he lifted his hand to ring the doorbell. He didn’t even get as far as making contact with the little button before the door swung open, revealing a very short, and very angry woman on the other side.

“Well!” Leia scoffed, “Look who actually decided to show up for lunch today.”

You winced, shutting your eyes so you wouldn’t bear witness to it, to the suffering you knew was going to come with this visit.

Leia hosted lunch every Monday. And just about every Monday, you and Kylo avoided it like the plague. It was supposed to be an attempt at bringing the family together, at reconnecting and healing old wounds, but it became clear after too many screaming matches and physical blows between family members, than it would be best if Kylo just…didn’t show up.

So he never did. You were always the one to call her, to let her know that oh, no, we’re so sorry but something’s come up. Every week without fail, she called and every week you were the one to answer. It had been nearly three months since Kylo had actually spoken aloud to his mother.

Which of course brought in a whole separate argument, one that Leia was gearing up to starting right now, right there on the front porch.

“Hi mom.” Kylo said, although he didn’t sound particularly thrilled. He didn’t even make an effort to attempt to smile.

“I’m shocked and surprised and honestly? A little disappointed.” Leia said in that way of hers that was supposed to cut deep, supposed to hit too close to home.

You wondered when that line was no longer drawn to even be able to be crossed any longer.

“Good to see you too mom.” Kylo kept it dry and to the point, because really, he wasn’t here to see Leia.

She threw her hands up in exasperation before taking the casserole from you.

The inside of the house was normal. Leia never liked the lavish lifestyle, not even when she was still running things with Han. Before Han, well. You tried not to think about that.

But it was a very normal, regular, suburban house. You couldn’t imagine living in it.

You directed your attention away from the furnishings and back to your husband, who was doing his absolute best not to explode. You held his hand and gave it a tight squeeze, you just knew his other one was balled into a fist where it was shoved in his trousers’ pocket.

You and Kylo were the first ones to show up to the lunch; Lando, Chewie, Luke, Wedge, and Rey all presumably on their way.

“No phone call, no visits – ” Leia starts, although she’s cut off by the arrival of Kylo’s Uncle.

Like Lando, Chewie wasn’t really related to Kylo in any way, but he had been Han’s best and most close companion, so he had more or less been indoctrinated into the family.

Things were the most tense between Chewie and Kylo though, so Kylo remained in his corner, silently glaring at the clock on the wall, as you made up for his rudeness with overly politeness on his behalf.

“Hey Uncle Chewie.” You said, leaning in to exchange greeting cheek kisses.

“It’s good to see you, (Y/N), been too long, eh?” Chewie smiled, his teeth unnervingly sharp.  

“You just drop in whenever it’s convenient to you, not caring about your poor mother.” Chewie’s comment sparked Leia’s whole spiel again.

“Mom, you’re many things but you’re not poor.” Kylo finally snapped, before exhaling deeply out of his nose and asking, “Where’s Rey?”

“I’m doing great, thanks for asking. My back is fine, thanks for asking.” Leia spit back at him, purposefully being difficult.

“How’s your back?” Kylo asked dryly, a hard stare on his face.

“It’s fine.” Leia sarcastically replied.

“And you wonder why I don’t come.” Kylo muttered under his breath, shook his head and you spared him a glance.

This was a mistake, of course it was a mistake, and you were upset with yourself for not fighting Kylo on the subject further. He was literally backed into a corner, had situated himself in a corner of the kitchen where the two counter-tops converged, and he was starting to lose his patience to a point where you worried about how close he was to the knife block.

“You’re lucky I don’t hand you over to the police right now.” Leia sneered, but Kylo only scoffed.

“Go ahead.” He dared, voice even and deep, eyes hard, knowing that even if she did, even if she called her precious pig Poe, they’d not find a single damn thing on him, on any of you.

“Mrs. Organa, will Rey be coming today?” You asked lightly but firmly, wanting to respect her in her home but also stand up for your husband, and to get an answer. If Rey wouldn’t be there, you’d yank him out and take him back to Manhattan in a heartbeat.

“Of course she’s coming – unlike one of my children, Rey has respect for tradition and family.” Leia replied, passive-aggressive.

“We’re taking Midtown from her.” Kylo said, making both her, and Chewie – who had been rifling through the fridge this whole time to try and find a beer – freeze.

“You’re doing what?” Chewie asked, a look of disbelief on his face.

“Midtown. We’re taking it away from her.” You nodded, answered for Kylo who had officially moved away from the knife block and had come to stand behind you, arms taking their place around your middle.

It was quiet for a long while, as Leia and Chewie looked at one another for a moment.

“I hope you’re prepared for an argument.” She said, for once not entirely venomous.

“I’m always prepared for an argument with you people.” Kylo muttered again, distracting himself with kissing your neck slightly.

“What Kylo means,” You interpreted, as Kylo nosed at the exposed skin from where your blouse’s neckline revealed, “Is that we know it’s going to upset her, that’s why we wanted to announce it here, where she could be comfortable. We didn’t want to show up at her house like last time to tell her.”

“Tell who what?” A voice asked from the living room, followed by the sound of the closing of the front door.

Kylo took a deep breath – but Leia beat him to the punch, leaving the kitchen to go greet her daughter.

“They’re taking away Midtown from you.” She told Rey before anyone else could even do so much as blink, as she hugged Rey, who had gone stiff as a board.

“Mom!” Kylo snapped --

“You’re what?” Rey shouted at the same time.

Kylo hid firmly behind you as Rey stalked, lethal into the kitchen with her teeth bared. She was so feral when she was angry – they all were, but for some reason she reminded you more of Anakin than anyone else.

“Listen kid, that part of the city is a fucking mess and is only getting worse ever since we let you handle it.” Kylo said it, plain and simple, but Rey didn’t agree.

“No it hasn’t!” She protested, storming more and more into the kitchen.

You remained unflinching, a literal barrier between them.

“We heard from some of the KoR this morning, there’s been three break-ins and four murders in the last 5 days. The thing with Lenny isn’t an isolated incident. The police are starting to call it a crisis and they’ve got cars patrolling the area now. Word on the street is people are saying Hell’s Kitchen is going back to how it was when Brendol was running it, and we just can’t have that.” You said, trying to explain it to her the most calm and collected way you could.

Kylo was growing more and more riled, more and more irritated in a way that was nothing but danger.

“Some of our associates are calling me, saying there’s no way to get a hold of you, you don’t return anyone’s calls, you’re never in the fucking office.” He said, running a hand through his hair so he didn’t punch his sister in the face, “I’m sorry Rey but we can’t risk anything more over there. We’re pulling you from Midtown.”

Rey wasn’t happy.

“You can’t do that.” She shook her head, fuming, “I won’t let you do that. I’ve got too much going on right now for this shit.”

“What? What’s going on? You can tell us Rey we want to make sure there’s no trouble.” Leia asked, put herself into this mix.

“No I can’t fucking tell you.” Rey groaned as she scrubbed a hand down her face.

“Is it Gwen?” Leia asked again, not dropping it, “I thought things were going well between you.”

“It’s not – listen my sex life has nothing to do with this.” Rey shouted, and there we go, you thought, let the shouting begin.

“Rey.” Kylo suddenly went dead still, his hand frozen from where it had been tensing against your stomach, “Are you running business behind my fucking back?”

Everyone, including yourself raised their brows at that, at that assumption, that conclusion, that question. You searched his face for where the hell he had come up with that, but Rey lunged at Kylo’s throat before you could even question him about it.

You were caught in the cross-fire for all of two seconds, before Kylo quickly stepped in front of you so you wouldn’t get hurt, as the siblings literally wrestled to the fucking floor.

“Should we stop them?” Chewie asked, but you shook your head.

“No, not yet.” Leia agreed, “Not until she get’s in a good swing at least.”

That made you roll your eyes, made you want to throw a fist of your own, but you restrained yourself. This really wasn’t supposed to have been a brawl, but Rey and Kylo were now punching the shit out of one another, fighting dirty, using all the tricks in the book and shouting at each other in the process.

They had knives drawn, little switch-blades hidden in boots and coat pockets, and were doing a real number on trying to cut the other’s tongue out, trying to slice throats, trying to gouge out eyes.

“No, I’m not running any fucking business behind your back!” Rey slapped Kylo hard across the cheek, and in response he wrestled her around and slammed the back of her head against the hard tile floor.

The sharp crack made everyone wince.  

“Then what the fuck is up?” Kylo demanded, deranged, the both of them crazy, practically frothing at the mouth with hate for one another.

“I’m going to school!” Rey screamed in his face, making everyone let out a sound of confusion.

“…What?” Kylo asked, dumbfounded, panting, as he held his blade up to her throat.

“I started school, you fucking jackass. I’m getting my degree.” Rey explained, “The reason I’m gone all the time is because I have classes and exams, god you’re so selfish, not everything revolves around you, Boss.”

“Rey that’s wonderful! Why didn’t you tell us?” Leia asked, clasping her hands in front of her like her two children were not currently trying to actively murder one another with weapons they were far too trained to use.

You walked over calmly and placed a hand on Kylo’s shoulder, a silent order for him to get up, and he did. He stuck his blade back in his pocket, and you saw a flash of the guns he had in his holster as he did so. You were lucky it hadn’t come to that.

“I didn’t want to be cross-examined for every single fucking choice I make, let alone by this one.” Rey sighed, before standing up and brushing the struggle off of her clothes, saying again, “I’m going to school.”

But...

Something…was off, from the way she said it.

Something in the way she avoided eye contact, the way her voice raised in register slightly, the way there was a minor tremor in her tone.

You chalked it up to just having fought with Kylo but…that sounded like a lie.

And as if she had telepathic powers, Rey met your eyes, and you could see there was worry there, anxiety.

Why would she lie?

“Listen Rey, we’re sorry that it all came out like this, but maybe this is for the better.” You said, not really paying attention to the words you were saying, much more interested in reading her face, scouring her gaze for any hint, any offering, any clue as to what was going on in her head. Your mouth was on autopilot while you scanned her, took in everything to account, from her posture to her breathing, “Now you can focus on your coursework and not worry about running forty-blocks worth of the city.”

“(Y/N), if you didn’t scare the shit out of me so much, I’d really hate you right now.” Rey said.

That at the very least was truthful.

“I know.” You replied, not smiling, not even giving a fake one. Kylo looked at you hard, and he could tell that you knew something was up. “You can hate me all you’d like, but we’re still pulling you from Midtown.” You said.

“I think we’d better leave.” Kylo interjected, before anyone had a chance to say anything else.

You nodded in agreement, and smoothed your hair down. It had been a roller-coaster of twenty-four fucking hours, that was for sure.

You took Kylo’s hand and simply walked out of the kitchen, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone.

“Oh so you’re not even going to stay for lunch? After all that?” Leia was incredulous, following the two of you out into the parking lot.

What timing, you thought, as Luke was just parking his car next to yours.

“No, I don’t really think that’s a very good idea.” You said, giving her a falsely apologetic glare that she saw right through. “You guys enjoy, we’ll see you soon.” You lied, only nodding in passing to Luke who was visibly confused as to the presence of you and Kylo – or rather, more like your departure.

Dopheld must have had a sixth sense, because he had already started up the car and warmed the seats, ready for you and Kylo to sit comfortably in the back.

When the house and the neighborhood were firmly far enough away for Kylo to release a breath, you tried to lighten up the mood.

“Well that went about as well as it was going to.” You gave a sad smile, heart breaking for him, for how his relationship with his family was so damaged, had only grown more and more damaged over the years.

“It could have been worse.” He shrugged, jaw set, even as he lit up a cigarette and sucked down the nicotine anxiously, opened the window just a crack so that he could blow the smoke away.

“How?” You asked, and he swiped his thumb across his face, wiping away a trickle of blood that had oozed out from a sliver thin slice Rey had managed to nick into his cheek.

“She could have cut my face up again.” He said, making you both smile.

                                                     --------------

Tagging some mob loving pals! As always, if you’d like to be on the list or taken off, please just let me know <3  @adamsnackdriver​ @dreamboatdriver​ @kyloxfem​ @heldcaptivebychaos​ @kylo-renne​ @callmehopeless​ @solotriplets​ @formerly-anonhamster​ @lookinsidemyhead​ @candycanes19​ @adamsnacc-kler​ @the-wayward-rose​ @taylovren-types​  magikevalynn  tinyplanet-explorers @chelsjnov​  romancedeldiablo @elfieboxcat (I’m sorry my dear it won’t let me tag you!)

[galadrieljones]

As You Were (Chapter 3)

Fandom: The Last of Us | Pairing: Joel x OC | Content: Fix-it | Rating: Mature

Masterpost

When Joel and Ellie take a wrong turn on their journey from Pittsburgh to Wyoming, they find themselves lost in a beautiful place with a dark and dangerous secret. While there, they meet a mother and son who, after a recent, tragic event on their family farm, are fighting tirelessly for survival. In an effort to find hope for the future, the two groups set out west together, growing closer over time, making choices and altering paths that will change the course of their lives forever.

This is an AU, starting after the events of the Summer chapter in the first game, and extending into the timeline of the second. Joel lives.

Chapter 3: The Driftless

“When you’re lost in the darkness, look to the light.”

After dinner, Joel insisted on cleaning up. Cici said she'd show him around the kitchen, the downstairs. The food had been really good, like way too good. Ellie had never had lamb before, ended up eating almost as much as Noah. At some point, though, while everybody was making small talk, she became dreamy. She was looking out the window, pressing her thumb lightly to the blade of her knife, finding shapes in the stars. Noah came over after everybody was finished with the meal and asked her if she wanted to come with him, out to the Crow's Nest, to help him with something.

"What are we doing?" said Ellie. It was probably about ten o'clock and full dark outside.

"It's a mess out there," he said, throwing the shotgun strap over his shoulder. "I just have to go haul some stuff out. You can come, if you want."

"Yeah, sure," she said. She smiled and closed up her blade. "Let's go."

But then, Joel said, "Ellie."

His voice was big, and deep, like space. Whenever he said her name like that, she immediately found his eyes. Something about choosing to stick together like they had. You can't really unstick.

"What's wrong?" she said.

He was standing with his hands in a basin, which was full of soapy water. The faucets didn't work anymore, said Noah. Nowhere in the whole house, or on the whole property. The running water was completely unusable. Ellie thought it was a little funny, seeing Joel do dishes. She'd never thought of him like that before. He wiped his soapy hands on his jeans, and then he looked down at them and seemed to reassess what it was he was about to say. She was listening. "Just be careful," he said, looking at her in a way that meant compromise.

"Sure," she said. "I will."

"Thanks, Ellie."

"She really listens to you," said Cici, once the kids were gone. She was taking the vacuum out of a broom closet by the front door. "Or is that just when other people are around?"

Joel stopped what he was doing, his hands back in the soapy water. Admittedly, he felt like a stranger in a kitchen like this. It had been too many years. "You mean Ellie?"

"Yeah," she said. "It can't be easy, with just her dad."

"Ellie ain't—she ain't my daughter," said Joel, remembering, suddenly, that Cici did not know. Noah knew, but the particulars of their relationship at large had not come up yet. It just wasn't important. "I'm just looking after her. For the time being."

"Oh," said Cici. She was surprised. "I'm sorry. I just figured."

"It's okay," said Joel. He started washing the plates with a sponge. "Back in Boston, there was a lot of...violence. A small group of us were trying to get out of the QZ," he said, scrubbing. "My brother lives out west, got some sort of set-up there, so that's been our plan, to find him. Some of us got as far as Pittsburgh. But me and Ellie, we're the only two made it this far." He looked down at the plate. It was like a coral color, porcelain.

Cici was quiet. When he turned around, she was just holding the cord to the vacuum cleaner, staring at it like she had forgotten what it did. "Well, we're glad you found us," she said. “Despite the circumstances.”

"Us, too," said Joel. "Y'all said you were in need of some real help. I've been wondering what kind."

She went to plug in the vacuum, but she didn't turn it on yet. Instead, she just stood, like she was piecing something together in her mind. "Infected,” she said. Then she was examining her fingernails. She had her hair braided about halfway down her back. She didn’t seem to want to look him in the eye. “They been tearing up our land,” she went on. “More keep coming, from up the river. And every time they do, they blow the mines on the perimeter. Yesterday, they brought down a tree. Noah had to rewire the entire valley and dig a whole new trench. I help as much as I can, which is usually enough, but given the volume of work, there’s only so much I can contribute these days, reasonably. I just—you coming along, it’s like happenstance.”

Joel took a deep breath, looked down at his watch. He had his sleeves rolled up above his forearms. “How many mines you got down there.”

“Over a hundred,” she said. “There’s IEDs, too. Some can be detonated remotely.”

”Who’s building IEDs?” said Joel.

“I am,” she said. She offered zero explanation. “All the maintenance, everything, it’s getting to be fucking impossible.”

“Well,” he said. “Like I said earlier, I’ll help in any way I can.”

”Thank you,” said Cici.

"Do you have any idea what's bringing them down, the hordes?"

"We got some idea," she said. She bit off a hangnail. She told him he needed to talk to Noah.

"Okay," said Joel. It was a little like she had given up. He didn’t like that. He knew she was keeping something from him, but he didn't press. "You know I thought we might be able to get to all this over dinner,” he went on, “but then the food turned out to be a little too good. I forgot to ask."

She started loosening the plaits of her braid, smiled to herself. "Thanks," she said. She was a subdued woman, at least for the time being. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen a girl eat as much as Ellie."

"It's mostly canned rations in the QZs," said Joel. "I ain't surprised. Other than squirrels and rabbits, we ain't had real meat in some time. Ellie's certainly never had lamb."

"Was she born in the Boston QZ?"

"I guess so," said Joel, realizing he didn't really know. "The woman who raised her, more or less, she was a Firefly. You know that group?"

"Yeah," said Cici, leaning on the vacuum. "I do, actually. A couple Fireflies came through here, maybe five years ago. They were looking to recruit."

"Anybody go with them?"

"No," she said. "They were spouting off all sorts of plans. Said there was gonna be a cure. But they were focused up in Minneapolis. We had a whole community here, going strong for a while. It was safe. Nobody wanted to risk leaving, not on a lark like that."

“Well, that makes sense," said Joel. He finished the coral plate, set it on the drying rack, then set forth on a plate that was more of a custard yellow. He didn't ask what had happened, with their community, and why it was she and Noah were out here all alone. He washed the dishes.

Cici turned on the vacuum, cleaned up under the table, and around Joel's feet. When she finished, she put it away and started wiping down the surfaces with a damp towel. When the dishes were all clean and drying, and Joel was drying his hands on a linen towel, she brought out the rest of the wine from dinner and poured it into two small mason jars, one for each of them. They sat down at the kitchen table, trying to undo a little bit of their strife as they stared down at their wine, their hands, their knees. As two adults, they were somewhat unaccustomed to small talk. It was easier to hide things, for both of them. They were trying very hard though. Joel could tell that Cici was, not uncomfortable, but a little awkward. She just didn't know what to say to him.

"So," he said, after a little while. "Noah. He's what, eighteen, nineteen years old?"

"He's seventeen," she said, drinking. "He'll be eighteen in a couple weeks though."

"He's big for a seventeen-year-old," said Joel, drinking. "Pretty tall."

"His dad played football at Madison," she said. "He was a tight end. It runs in the family."

"You don't say."

She got a little red in the cheeks, and sipped her wine. "Noah is a good son. He does right by me, and by this farm."

"I can tell." Joel drank some of his wine, too. It was a little thin, made from cabernet grapes they had grown in a vineyard out back. That’s what Noah had said. Grapes don't grow in Wisconsin like they do in California, he'd said. But they do grow. "I will admit that I was a little surprised,” said Joel. “You look kind of young to have such a grown-up son. That's a compliment, by the way."

It was like she was trying to smile, but she hid it. "I'm thirty-six," she said. "I had Noah very young."

"I get it," said Joel. "You don't have to explain anything to me."

They sat for a little while, drinking their fruity wine and listening to the nature sounds coming in the open windows. The river rushing, snaking through the property like a silvery ribbon, the crickets big and deep. The clock on the wall.

"You know, I noticed, on the drive in, this place don't look like what I thought Wisconsin was supposed to look like."

"How so?"

"It's so hilly," he said. "With the stone ridges and the outcroppings, the rivers and the terrace farms. I thought Wisconsin was supposed to be pretty flat."

Cici got up then. She went to the record player, on a shelf by the TV, and she was rifling through a stack of vinyls. "Most of it is," she said. "But where we are, it's different. You ever heard of the Driftless Area?"

"No," said Joel. "What the hell's that?"

She chose one vinyl from the stack, slid the record from the envelope. "It's this small area around the upper-Mississippi, in the floodplain of southwestern Wisconsin mostly, some parts of Minnesota and Iowa. During the Ice Age, you know, the glaciers came down, flattened out everything. That's why Wisconsin is the way it is, but down here, in this tiny little corner, it escaped glaciation, somehow. It just missed us. There are no leftovers from the glaciers, or glacial deposits I guess, and so that's why the terrain looks the way it does, like the waterfalls and the cold streams, all the tributaries and big ridges and everything, the high forests. There's no drift. It's driftless." She was centering the record on the spindle.

Joel was looking down into his wine, feeling dumbfounded. "You're telling me the geography around here ain't changed in a hundred thousand years?"

"More or less," she said, setting down the needle. "It's some of the best trout fishing in the world, where we live."

"Y'all must fish a lot then. Does Noah get out there much with his line?"

"Not anymore," she said. Something about the sound of her voice, he knew that was the end of their talk on the Driftless.

The record player crackled and clicked. A song came on. The music filled the house. It was almost joyful. Joel had been daydreaming at first, but then he realized that he recognized the voice. "Is this Ryan Adams?" he said.

”Yeah," said Cici. “You know his stuff?”

“I do,” said Joel. “I saw him live in Dallas, all the way back in, what was it now, 2004?"

”Really?" she said.

”Really.”

”That's amazing. But you’re so old.”

He laughed. This surprised him, the sudden levity between them. “Well, I was a teenager.”

”What are you now, like forty-five?”

He gave her a look. "You gonna guess my age, Miss Cici?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'm sorry. Is that weird?"

”Not really," said Joel. "I'm just messing with you. If you must know. I'll be forty-eight at the end of the month.”

"How old is Ellie?" said Cici.

"She's fourteen," said Joel.

"What does she like?" said Cici. “I mean, what are her interests?”

Joel wrapped his hands all the way around the mason jar, as if to heat the wine within. "She likes comic books," he said. "I try to pick them up for her, whenever I find some. I've heard her sing, too, whenever we're on the road. She ain't half bad, and she tries to whistle every now and then so I think she likes music. But the place she grew up, it was basically a military prep school. Real stifling. She ain’t really used to having the liberty of interests."

"I thought you said she was raised by Fireflies?"

"It's complicated," said Joel. He swallowed some of the wine.

"I see," said Cici. "How long have you two been traveling together?"

"A couple months," said Joel, right away. "Seems like forever."

"I'm sorry about your people, from Boston," said Cici. "The people you said you lost. I don't know what to say."

Joel saw the shape of Tess, darkening the doorway. It seemed to drop a shadow, over the room, his insides, just for a second. He blinked. “You don't have to worry about me,” he said. Then he looked at Cici. Her face was pretty. Anybody would have noticed as much. "I'm fine."

Her eyes were dark, her braid undone over her shoulder. She drank her wine and said softly, "Okay."

Once they got outside, Ellie looked up. The sky swam darkly. The stars here were like nothing else, she thought. Maybe a million ribbons, maybe fishes in a black pool. It seemed to breathe up there, to teem. Teem. That was the word. She wanted to tell Joel. She thought it was a neat word, he might appreciate. She was used to feeling desperate, warm floods—of emotions, which she would then bury deep inside of herself.

She followed Noah, trailing slightly behind. They spoke little. He did ask her how she felt about it, out there. The farm.

"I love it," she said. "You're so lucky."

They walked back down to the gate where they’d first met. When they finally got to the crow’s nest, Ellie needed a boost up to the ladder, and then he followed up behind her. When she got to the top, she dusted her hands off on her jeans and looked around.

It really was like a little nest, she thought. It was totally his. There was an oil lamp glowing on a low table, and stacked up beside it were dozens of paperback novels. Names like Ernest Hemingway, Cormac McCarthy, Jim Harrison. Noah started cleaning up, right away. Tidying things, sweeping the floor with an old straw broom. There were a couple bean bag chairs with neat, psychedelic patterns, and a battery-powered hot plate, and some dirty plates, bottles and mugs. She could tell he spent a lot of time in the crow’s nest, alone. She could tell that maybe he liked it to be neat and clean up there at the start of each new day.

As he stacked up the plates and things and swept the floor, she flipped through some of the novels on the table. There was one book that was open, conspicuously, on top of the rest. That one, she did not touch, for fear of losing his place. “You like to read?” she said, stupidly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Do you?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Do you ever read comics?”

“Sometimes,” he said. “I have a bunch inside.”

“Sweet,” said Ellie, looking around. There were some posters on the wall, nothing she recognized. One was for a band called Pearl Jam. “I was reading this one series. It’s called Savage Starlight. I mean, it’s stupid. You heard of it?”

“No,” said Noah. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about this chick,” she said. There was a quilt, draped over one of the bean bags. The craftsmanship was very lovely. Ellie ran her hand over the soft knitting. “Her name is Dr. Daniella Star. She’s like a scientist. She invented some kind of crazy time travel, and it’s just like, her adventures in space, I guess.”

“Sounds pretty intense,” said Noah. He dumped the dirty plates into a canvas rucksack. He set the broom against the door jamb. “There’s a comic store in Viroqua. We could go pillage it, maybe tomorrow night? I bet you’d find some of them there. They have a lot of super obscure stuff. And the town isn’t too badly looted. There’s a lot left.”

“Really?” said Ellie. “Are there any people there?”

“No,” said Noah. “Not anymore.”

“Right,” she said.

They climbed back down the ladder. Noah said, "You wanna see the river?"

Ellie said yes. Hell yes. She did want to see the river. She'd never really seen a river, not a real one, not up close. Or at least she didn't feel like she had. They went along a little grass path. Ellie looked up some more, up at the stars, the Milky Way, listening to the nighttime birds and the crickets. Then they came to a river. Noah stopped, and she stopped. It was just this small thing, smaller than she had expected, maybe ten feet across, cutting through the grassy field, snaking around like a ribbon. It was enchanted, almost haunted, how it rippled. Little rapids, here and there. It was so beautiful.

“What's this river called?” she said.

"Technically it’s a creek,” he said, surveying, real pensive. “It flows out of the Kickapoo River, which is a tributary of the Mississippi.”

“Man,” she said."This whole place. It's like, perfect. Like a dream. In the QZ, we couldn't leave. We couldn't go outside the gates. If we did, and we got caught, they wouldn't let us come back. But here it’s like, you're free. Do you love it?"

“I guess,” said Noah. He’d set down the rucksack, his shotgun. “I mean, I don’t know anything else. You didn’t like living in Boston?”

“Not really,” said Ellie. “But I guess—I guess I didn’t really know that until I left with Joel.”

"Why'd you guys leave."

"Too dangerous, I guess. Some...bad stuff happened. In Boston it was pretty bad, but then in Pittsburgh...It’s a long story."

Noah waited, like maybe to see if she was going to keep talking. When she didn’t, he just said, “So he’s really not your dad, huh?”

“No,” said Ellie. “No. He’s just—Joel.”

“He seemed to get kind of worried when you left the house.”

“That’s how he is,” she said. “We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Like back in Pittsburgh?” he said.

She was watching the dark river in the moonlight, all unfolding, the tall grasses on the other side, blinking with fireflies. “Pretty much,” she said.

He took a deep breath then, which made her nervous. He got down to one knee, opened up the rucksack, and from inside, he took out a clear empty bottle from up in the Crow's Nest.

"What are you doing?" she said.

He didn't answer. He just blew the inside of the bottle dry, and then he dipped it into the river, filled it up with water. "It's not perfect here, Ellie," he said. “I know it seems perfect to you, and free, but it’s not.” He fashioned a lighter from his pocket, let it illuminate the bottle.

Ellie crouched down beside him, curious, but confused. She looked at the water in the bottle. She sensed a darkness, all around them. In Noah’s voice, hidden in the moonlight and the greenery of the terrain. But she didn't understand. "What do you mean?" she said. "Is this about what you said upstairs, how we shouldn't drink the water? What's wrong with it?"

"All the water, flowing out of the Mississippi, down from the north, is poisoned," he said.

"Poisoned,” she said, gazing into the light. “With what?”

He pocketed the lighter, tossed the bottle into the river. They watched it sink. “Spores.”

[hecohansen31]

For the soulmate foursome, it's clear that they all love their little girl now, but... Michael is still very cold ! It's his nature, but when she sees him so sweet with Jimmy, so cuddly with Duncan, their girl has some doubts. She needs to feel that he trusts her, by showing his true face : a lil pup full of fears and love.

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

How are you? 

I hope you’ll like this new piece for the foursome, I honestly love these babes and Michael in this dynamic is just UWU...

As always, if you don’t like this just shoot me an ask or a DM and I’ll rewrite it!

Have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Work Harassment, Rejection, Slight Violence, Nightmares, Tiredness and Jim’s Idiotic Humor.

Michael was literally the embodiment of ‘are you the little spoon or the big spoon? I am a knife’ meme.

Which was something that Jim had said jokingly to you, as you had voiced your doubts towards Michael’s love for you.

You didn’t deny that he was attracted to you, at least physically, but whenever you would do something even remotely romantic, he would retreat in himself, almost frozen on the spot, and you couldn’t help but feel like he was more a puppet than actually Michael.

And he only had this behavior with you, because you saw the way he would purr as Duncan dove, almost distractedly, an hand in his hair when they were on the couch and he was checking emails, Michael immediately relaxing under him.

Or when Jimmy would make some dumb joke and Michael would laugh like he had just proclaimed an universal truth, gently holding his lover’s hand as he brought it to his lips, or when he would comfort Jimmy during his nightmares, although he had learned how to let you in.

Every sexual action never seemed to be spurred on by Michael, although by the end of the day his hard-on would wake you up on the mornings you fell asleep in his arms, but he never seemed to initiate anything with you, whereas he had no qualm dragging Jimmy in his bedroom or kissing Duncan when you both visited him in his office.

You didn’t know whether he was simply too stiff to warm up to you or you should have just given him his time.

That was what had suggested Duncan the diplomat, whereas Jimmy had gone for a more direct approach, suggesting you just tied the man to the bed and showed him a thing or two about ‘your beautiful body’.

You definitely didn’t know why you still bothered to ask Jimmy for advice.

But then Destiny decided to give you a hand, gently pushing you and Michael together.

Duncan would be gone for an entire week a business trip and that same week Jimmy had wanted to visit Medina since she would be soon leaving for a world tour of surf and he wanted to spend a bit of time together, even more when he knew the tension that staying with you and Michael would arise.

‘Everything is going to be alright’ he promised ‘… please just fuck out the tension, don’t throw knives, Duncan would be pissed if he had to redecorate’.

‘Thank you for thinking about my life, babe’ you had replied, as you had closed the door in his face ‘… suck your own dick, since you are supportive the kitchen, again’.

But strangely the first days without Jimmy and Duncan went pretty well, mostly because you and Michael stayed on your own with your own routines.

You would be leaving for work, come back by night, shower after Michael did (which meant that the water was never ‘boiling hot’ but you couldn’t hold Michael’s accountable for that… mostly with that glorious hair) and then you would dine together.

Michael would try awkwardly to ask how your day had gone and you would reply a bit less awkwardly.

And then you would go to sleep.

Each one in a separate room.

Then the third day the miracle happened.

You had just come back from work: it had been a tiring day, working with children wasn’t always easy.

That day you had also slept terribly and when you had come back home you still had papers to grade and projects to go through, which would make your night even longer no matter your need for bed and food, and a long warm shower…

You had come in the kitchen, barging in lightly more aggressively than you usually did, and you hadn’t certainly expected Michael to be there, eating softly some sweet and you couldn’t help but feel like you were intruding on his peace, immediately grabbing all the bags you had dropped and mumbling a soft ‘sorry’, as you moved away.

“No no, stay” he replied, something in his voice making you turn around, and as you came to face with him, he looked curious… almost worried “... is everything alright?”.

“Just an hard day at school” you muttered, releasing a soft breath “I do think that if it isn’t a problem I’d like to shower first, so that I can then dedicate my soul and body to going through the children’s works”.

“… sorry to hear that” and he seemed to mean it, before he pushed out a small chair next to him “… and I don’t mind it absolutely, but first do you want some of this tiramisu? It honestly tastes amazing”.

And you didn’t doubt it since it came from one of the most known bakeries of the city.

But what truly startled you was the fact Michael had just offered you one of his precious sweets and you looked at him confused as if he had grown another head, but refused politely, sure that it was a trick.

Michael would never share his sweets with anyone: he always preferred to get more than to share.

So why was he sharing it with you?

“I won’t kill you if you want a piece, I swear” he insisted “… I know that I can be… possessive on my sweets, but I just… I just think that you might need this more than I do”.

In fact, you low key felt like you might need a bit of sugar to get yourself to be better.

“… just a piece” you promised him, and he just looked at you in the eyes, honesty shining in his beautiful turquoise gems.

“Honestly you can take it all, I wouldn’t mind it”.

---

If that hadn’t been enough to scare you about Michael’s behavior, making you wonder what had made him change, something interesting had happened on Friday.

Usually Duncan would reserve that day as a day off from work with you, if his week had been calm enough: you would go out for a coffee, something rather calm and trivial, but you cherished those memories, because they made you feel comfortable and fall more in love with your beloved idiot.

You would do a similar thing with Jim, going to see him training every Wednesday and then spending time sharing a milkshake together, at your favorite diner.

You hadn’t any of this kind of things with Michael, but you knew, because you had spied the conversation, that Duncan had made him promise to cover his ‘shift’ with you on Friday, hence Michael had very ‘not genuinely’ asked you out for a coffee after you finished work.

And you were now waiting for the beautiful man to arrive, having arrived early and grading some of the papers you hadn’t been able to finish the previous days, and you had been a bit warmed up by the beautiful atmosphere of the secluded coffee.

It was a bit more expensive that the ones around the city, but you just loved it too much to notice the money you spent on it (and Duncan usually paid so…).

And as you were waiting an hand touched your shoulder, startling you but you quickly recovered thinking it was Michael and his feline-like grace but you were disappointed a you saw Mr. Tinsel, one of the fathers of your students.

Who had flirted with you at any teacher-parents meeting, to the point where you were so uncomfortable that you started to always avoid him.

But this time there was no running away.

“Mrs. (L/N)!” he called out to you with more energy than he should have, not releasing your shoulder from his grip as you raised your eyes to rank them slowly onto his greasy attire, something between a mix of ‘my wife left me because I wouldn’t shower’ and ‘this is fashionable trash’ “… so nice to see you!”.

“Absolutely” you hoped your wondering smile would make sure that he understood you weren’t feeling the same way “How is Priscilla?”.

That child was literally the original ‘problematic one’ and you could totally understand with a father like that, spoiled and brattish, but also definitely uncared and having a lack of affection in her life.

“… an angel truly” you doubted it but smiled again more out of convenience than anything else “… and very much in love, like me, with her teacher”.

‘Good Lord if you ever loved me, please please just throw a lighting on his way’ you muttered in your mind, with a wary smile to the man who sat in front of you, a distinct show that he wanted to stay, completely taking advantage of your alone moment.

“That’s actually for my partner…” you tried to say “… I am waiting for him”.

“Oh, but I don’t see him around” he gave you a charming smile, and you simply sent a worried one, checking the door, as you tried to go back to grading your papers giving Mr. Tinsel no attention, but soon your interest was caught by a small protesting ‘humph’ Mr. Tinsel released “… hey I got this lace before!”.

And as you raised your face, Michael was looming onto Mr. Tinsel, his eyes definitely burning an hole through the poor man who still stood his ground but didn’t have much choice as Michael got the chair out of his ass, making him fall onto it, with a fluid motion as he readjusted the chair closer to you, sitting on it and sending you a quick glance as you looked at the entire scene shocked.

“… hey sweetheart, sorry for being late”.

---

All those mixed signals were driving you crazy and the drop that filled and made your vase overflow was when Michael insisted on you sleeping together on Saturday night, after a movie marathon, insisting on needing a bit of help to sleep these days.

‘You wouldn’t mind, would you?’ he had asked you as you stared at him as if he had just revealed you, he was ‘the king of the world’.

‘No no’ you had almost chocked on your own saliva as you had pushed yourself to reply quickly.

And now you were in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling on your back, your hand on your stomach, aching because of the anxiety of such an intimate act that Michael regarded with the least attention, having simply slipped in bed in pajama pants and nothing more, as he curled onto one side, in a fetal position, pushing himself the furthest away from you.

In the end sleep overcame you wonderings and thoughts, but you were quickly brought back to reality as you felt something turning around in your bed, startling you and paralyzing you onto the mattress as you calmed your breath and analyzed the situation.

You immediately came to the quick conclusion that it was Michael turning around the bed, since you were in his bedroom and pushed in an upright position so that you could see what was going on.

And found Michael twisting his body in what looked like a painful memory, transformed in an awful nightmare and as you gently pushed yourself to softly brush an hand against his shoulder, aware that you had to wake him up, he snapped.

He quickly went into survival mood, gripping onto your hand in a way that pained you, pushing onto your wrist as he quickly pulled you under him, effectively stopping any movements and protests, and as his hand wrapped around your throat you found yoyrself fearing for your life.

You had never witnessed a nightmare of his.

You hadn’t even known he had such and almost cursed yourself for having used such a bold attempt till Michael’s eyes snapped open, taking in the situation and you muttered through your slow breaths.

‘It’s me, (Y/N), Michael’ and as his eyes slowly became bright eyes in the darkness of the room ‘… you are hurting me’.

And as burned, he immediately retreated his hand from your hands, definitely taking in the harshness of his action, before recognition of who you were overtook him and you immediately turned away from him, to regain your breath as you wondered what you had to do.

You were still scared by his aggressive answer but you could hear him being pained beside you, still as stone and cold as ice as you slowly moved to take a look at him, on his back and watching anything that wasn’t you, although your movement quickly caught his attention.

“Michael, are you…?” ‘ok’, ‘crazy, ‘safe’… you didn’t know what to say but Michael simply nodded your head more out of habit, than actually feeling ‘better’, and your heart chocked a bit, tightening in your chest, as you realized he had nightmare, he just hid them “… you had a nightmare, you aren’t ok, I can feel how shaken you are and I…”.

“It’s none of your business” the harshness of your words hurt you much more than is chokehold, but you couldn’t simply give up.

“It is” your voice had his same harshness as you propped onto your elbow turning onto your stomach as you softened your gaze “… you are my lover like Duncan and Jimmy and I always help them through nightmares”.

“But I am not like either of them!” he protested, not even looking at you in the eyes, and you gave him all the time in the world “… I am not cheery as Jimmy and romantic as Duncan”.

“Then you are you: elegant and algid Michael with a love for sweets and for luxurious things, I don’t really need anything else, truly, I mean… I have cheery Jim and romantic Duncan and a very very sweet Michael, I just need you the way you are”.

This seemed to breech something in Michael as he sent you a quick look to you as if to make sure that you weren’t lying.

“… I almost hurt you”.

“Also Jimmy and Duncan did, the first times they had a nightmare, it’s not you, it’s the nightmares” you explained softly, daring to let an hand out to him to settle it between you “… once I know how to deal with yours nightmares, I won’t be hurt anymore”.

Although Michael still needed more convincing, he grabbed softly your hand.

“… we are in this together” you promised him, gripping a bit tighter his hand to let him know that you were right there with him.

“I like being held when I have nightmares, not too tightly” he explained, not daring to look at you, already halfway nestling through your arms.

“… then I do think that I can do that for you”.

[juju-on-that-yeet]

Careful What You Wish For

Whumptober 2020 Day 11: Psych 101 Prompt: Defiance, Struggling, Crying

Summary: After Bingiplier and MarkBop bring new clues about Oliver's disappearance to Ego Inc., Chrome finds a potential trail to where Oliver might be hidden. He, Yandere, and Yancy go investigate on their own, and manage to find Oliver - but get much more than they bargained for. (continued from “Catch”)

Warnings: Blood, violence, tasering, amputation, mind control

Read on AO3 (Full Whumptober 2020 series)

Enjoy!

~

After Bingiplier and MarkBop bring news of a failed kidnapping, strange tech, and an encrypted laptop into Ego Inc., Chrome hopes it’ll finally get them somewhere closer to finding Oliver. It’s been too long since he went missing. Chrome’s spent too many nights awake, too angry to charge and too tired to keep working. Plus’s been too quiet and morose, Google’s been too frustrated and worried. Chrome is sick of Oliver being gone, and he’s determined to get answers out of the materials Bing and Bop brought back.

Chrome looks over the evidence, the IDs and the powerful laser and the file. He tries to get into the laptop. But of course, Plus and Google do the same, and they all have the same experiences: The IDs are useless, the laser doesn’t even have a serial number, the file has no identifying information, and the laptop is so heavily encrypted that it takes hours to extract even a modicum of data.

Eventually, though, while staring at the IDs for the hundredth time, Chrome has an idea: If there’s no obvious information about where the laser, files, or laptop came from, the only lead left is the people. The IDs may be useless on their own, but the people who had them were real. He confirms with Bop that the photos in the IDs match the faces of the people he and Bing saw, and it further solidifies his idea. He takes the ID of the man first, scans over the photo, and scours the internet for photos of him.

There’s a lot of false positives. People that look very similar at first blush but after a moment of scrutiny reveal themselves as the wrong man. It doesn’t help that the man’s appearance isn’t particularly distinctive, meaning that there’s people everywhere who look like him. But after hours and hours of trawling through endless Facebook photos and the “Meet The Team” pages of various companies, Chrome can’t find him anywhere. Frustrated, he’s forced to stop and charge, but once he’s powered up again, he does the same process with the woman’s ID photo.

For a while it looks much the same, until he gets to a particularly unique photo: The woman – and he’s certain it’s her – alongside a group of others, all cutting the ribbon in front of a large facility. Everyone is dressed professionally and smiling, and it looks like any other grand opening photo. But Chrome is sure that the woman is the same as in the ID. The photo comes attached to a blog post, and it’s there that Chrome gets a name: Enigma Data, supposedly an IT company. The building in the photo is its third location, according to the post. Interestingly, there’s no link to a website for Enigma Data and no address for the building. Post comments are turned off and there’s no tags. The rest of the blog seems fairly ordinary for an adult career woman, and seems to be continuously updated to this day. It’s an odd little blip, but Chrome suspects it’s not a coincidence. Chances are the woman tried to scrub her blog of references to her work, but was unable to find this one due to the lack of tags.

But then again…it’s not very conclusive. There could be any number of reasons for the strange post. But Chrome can vaguely recognize where the building is from the environment in the photo, and it wouldn’t be hard to get there. And if he’s right, he can find out for sure that Oliver is there and a rescue can be planned. If he brings this to Google and Plus and they dismiss it, then Oliver will continue to be stuck there. And they could very well dismiss it, Chrome could certainly be wrong. But he’s willing to take the risk, even though he knows his brothers won’t be.

Which is why he charges himself up and leaves the next morning to investigate on his own.

Or at least, that was his intention.

“Where are you going?” asks a voice from behind him the moment his hand touches the doors of Ego Inc.

Chrome turns to see Yandere standing there, arms crossed, and Yancy beside him.

“How did you even know I was leaving?” Chrome asks in return.

“Because I know you, Aka-kun,” Yandere says, “I knew you were coming up with a plan to find Kiiro-kun. And if you think you’re doing that alone, you’re mistaken.”

“Yeah,” Yancy adds, “If these people want androids, it ain’t safe for youse to go alone. We’re coming, too.”

Chrome sighs, but decides he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. He explains the situation and his theory to Yandere and Yancy as they walk down the streets of LA.

“We’re just investigating,” he finishes, “We’ll get as close as we can and scope the place out, see if we spot anything useful.”

“We’re not going in?” Yandere asks as though disappointed, eager for a fight as always.

“No way,” Chrome says sternly, “We’ll go back home and tell the others so we can make a proper plan.”

“How much farther are we going, Red?” asks Yancy, a little nervous, “If we go too far, my tracker’s gonna go off, and I’m gonna be in some serious trouble.”

“Not if others are with you,” Chrome reminds him, “And besides, we’re almost there.”

The area gets less and less populated the farther they go, and eventually, the building Chrome saw in the photo can be seen in the distance. It makes sense for the area to be quiet; if people knew what was happening at Enigma Data, the place wouldn’t have been able to take Oliver in the first place. The idea that Oliver could be in that building somewhere, probably hurt, probably scared, probably terribly upset, makes Chrome’s blood boil.

The group turns into an alley to prevent being noticed in the quiet streets. They’re halfway down when Chrome starts to hear things. He stops walking. Yandere and Yancy follow.

“What?” Yandere asks, though he’s quieter than usual. He recognizes the look on Chrome’s face. Yancy doesn’t, and looks at him curiously.

“We’re being watched,” Chrome breathes.

At the back of the alley, a group of people appear, dressed in SWAT-like body armor and carrying similarly-themed weapons on their belts and strapped across themselves. Chrome turns around, but sees another group of them at the mouth of the alley where they came in, blocking the exit. Chrome turns towards the back of the alley again, and Yandere and Yancy look to the front, the three of them back-to-back. They already know they’ll have to fight their way out of this, and that it won’t be easy.

“We were hoping for more,” says a man from the front group, stepping forward, “But at least one of you showed up.”

“That photo was a trap,” Chrome growls, a sinking feeling in his gut.

“You came right to us,” the man, possibly the leader of this operation, says, “With a bit too much company, but that will be easily dealt with.”

Chrome snarls, but stops in an instant when he sees someone else step out of the group alongside the leader. This person isn’t wearing armor like the others. This person doesn’t have a short buzz cut and slight stubble like the others. This person has fluffy dark hair, glasses, and a yellow t-shirt with a “G” emblazoned on the front. This person is familiar, someone Chrome hasn’t seen in weeks, someone Chrome has been missing for just as long.

“Oliver?” Chrome gasps.

Oliver doesn’t look like he should. His face is more stoic than Chrome has ever seen it look. His eyes are even worse, glaring and glowing yellow and without a spark of light or love in them. This is Oliver, but it’s not Oliver, not anymore. Chrome can feel Yandere and Yancy moving against his back, hear them gasp at the sight of Oliver and try to talk to him, but he can’t focus enough to understand what they’re saying.

He tries to send a message to Oliver through their internal server. The message bounces back as a failed delivery.

“Ollie, what did they do to you?” Chrome asks aloud instead, taking a step closer. Some of the men chuckle.

“Don’t bother,” the leader laughs, “He’s fully conditioned, and soon you will be, too. Google Yellow…” Oliver’s head whips to the leader. “…Subdue the android.”

Oliver looks back to Chrome. His eyes narrow. He pulls out a taser – the same kind of taser that Bing and Bop brought back.

“Run,” Chrome orders Yandere and Yancy.

“Chrome, no!” Yandere cries, “There’s no way we’re leaving you!!”

“Run!!” Chrome yells as Oliver charges.

Chrome manages to dodge Oliver’s first jab with the taser, and the second, and more. He can hear Yandere and Yancy running away, stabbing and punching their way through the set of men at the end of the alley. The men on Chrome’s side move forward, but Chrome can’t concentrate on them. He’s too busy avoiding Oliver, avoiding the taser as it crackles and hums with electricity. Oliver is single-minded in his drive to get Chrome, eyes still narrowed, still glowing, still blank and empty.

“Ollie, come on!!” Chrome shouts as he dodges, “It’s me, Chrome! You have to remember! We’ve all been looking for you, me and Plus and Blue and everyone else, you have to–”

Oliver lands a lucky jab on Chrome’s chest, an inch above the left side of his core. As soon as the taser’s prongs touch Chrome, his world becomes fire. His entire body seizes, muscles contracting tight, too tight. His vision goes white. He’s not even sure if he screams. It’s only electric fire, and he can feel every tenth of a second as it passes, feel the waves of electricity flowing outward from his chest. His core shudders, he can’t breathe.

When Oliver pulls the taser away, Chrome collapses bonelessly. He can still barely breathe, but he tries his hardest to gasp in air. Warning notifications pop up across his vision, telling him that he’s too hot and his vents won’t open and his core stopped pulsing for a few moments and there’s a burn on his chest and a hundred other alerts. Oliver leans over Chrome. Chrome looks up at him, vision blurred.

“Ollie,” he wheezes.

“We need him unconscious,” the leader says from somewhere Chrome can’t see, “We can’t risk him recovering and escaping.”

Oliver nods.

Then he kicks Chrome in the head.

Chrome doesn’t even have time to realize what just happened before he’s unconscious.

~~~

Yandere and Yancy run.

Yandere didn’t want to, but he knew as well as Chrome did that he and Yancy wouldn’t stand a chance against Oliver like this. His mind is still reeling from seeing Oliver in that state, from having to leave Chrome in his clutches, as he and Yancy break through the group of men at the mouth of the alley and flee for home. The men follow not too far behind, but if Yandere and Yancy can make it to Ego Inc., the magic of the building will hide them, and the men won’t be able to get inside.

“Kuso, kuso,” Yandere mutters as he runs, pulling Yancy along by his arm.

“Fuck, this was a bad idea,” Yancy pants, trying to keep up, “We should’ve stopped him–”

“No,” Yandere cuts him off, “We know where Kiiro-kun is now, we’ll go home and tell the others–”

Something sails over their heads and lands on the ground ahead of them. Before either of them can ask the other what it is, it goes off, spilling cloudy smoke into the air, smoke that the pair run right into.

“A smoke bomb!” Yandere yells, already coughing a little, “Keep running!!”

But he’s already let go of Yancy’s arm and slowed down from surprise. He can’t see through the smoke, and breathing is a little harder. The lost momentum means he can’t run fast enough as the men close in on him, and in moments, both his arms have been grabbed. He kicks and struggles as he’s pulled back, out of the smoke cloud but into the group’s clutches. Yancy is already with them, caught as well, fighting like Yandere is. But it’s all they can do as they’re forced back the way they came.

“Let us go, ya fuckin’ pigs!!” Yancy yells, face starting to flush with rage.

“Fuck you all!” Yandere screams, kicking at the legs of the men dragging him, “You’re all going to pay for this!!”

Though both of them are strong, Yandere is unnaturally so. There’s a couple times that Yandere almost breaks out of his captors’ grip, but they tighten their hold and watch him carefully. In the end, the pair are taken back to the alley they escaped from. Oliver is still there, holding a cruel-looking taser in his hand, and he looks at Yandere and Yancy as they’re brought over. Several men are supporting something, and it takes a moment for Yandere to see that it’s Chrome, unconscious. There’s a hole burned in his shirt above his core and a black mark across the skin, along with an awful bruise on his forehead. The sight of him sends a jolt of rage and terror through Yandere’s body.

“Aka-kun!!” Yandere cries, fighting ever harder against the men holding him, “What have you done!?” he screams at Oliver, who continues to regard him passively.

“Fuck you!!” Yancy yells. Whether at Oliver or the group of men, Yandere doesn’t know.

“We got them,” says one of the men holding Yancy, ignoring his swearing and kicking.

“Good,” says the leader, “Well, we have our protocol for civilians that interfere.” He reaches for one of the firearms strapped to his chest.

“I have a suggestion,” says one of the men holding Yandere, “This one here–” He gives Yandere a shake that makes him growl. “–is really strong, stronger than most. I’ve held back men twice his size that weren’t half as hard to control.”

The leader considers for a moment. He looks at Oliver.

“Google Yellow, analyze him.”

Oliver stares at Yandere, eyes glowing yellow.

“He is inordinately strong,” Oliver says, voice monotone. His gaze flicks to Yancy. “There is something strange about them that my systems cannot define. They do not appear to be entirely human.”

Yandere and Yancy both stop struggling in shock. The leader whistles.

“Guess it makes some sense,” he muses, “Who else would hang out with a bunch of androids? Let’s take them both back then, see if the higher-ups agree, then they can get conditioned.”

Yandere doesn’t want to know what “conditioned” means, but he shares a furtive glance with Yancy. It’d be bad for them to end up in that facility, having who-know-what be done to them, but Yancy has a tracker in his arm. If the signal carries through the building, the other egos will be able to follow it to rescue them.

The men are starting to head away, through the alley to the facility Yandere and the others were headed to in the first place, when Oliver speaks again.

“We cannot take him with us,” he says, pointing to Yancy.

“Why not?” asks the leader in a warning tone, “Did you forget who calls the shots here, Yellow?”

“No,” Oliver replies without lowering his pointing finger, “He has a tracker embedded in his arm. My scan discovered it.”

Yandere’s heart sinks. Yancy’s expression melts from fury to fear.

“Dammit,” the leader mutters, “He’s been broadcasting his location this whole time!”

“Maybe it can be removed,” puts in one of the men holding Yancy.

“There’s no time,” the leader says. He looks to Oliver. “Can it be destroyed?”

“Not without destroying the arm,” Oliver says, “But if it were to be destroyed, it could still display the last known signal for some time after. It would be best to leave it intact to avoid raising suspicion, and to leave it somewhere far from here.”

“We can’t risk taking him inside for someone to remove,” the leader sighs, “Do you have a plan?”

“I do,” Oliver says, “Would you like me to explain it? We will unfortunately not be able to take him with us afterward.”

“You know what, just go ahead and do it,” the leader says, “The other one’s the strong one, so at least we’ll keep him. Google Yellow, handle the problem as you see fit.”

Oliver nods. He approaches Yancy. Yancy shrinks back, but there’s nowhere for him to go.

“What are you doing?” Yandere gasps.

“Please release his right arm,” Oliver tells the men holding him.

“Ollie, c’mon,” Yancy pleads, “You don’t gotta hurt me, you know me, dontcha?”

His words are ignored as the man on his right releases Yancy’s arm and Oliver takes it immediately after. He places one hand on Yancy’s upper arm, the other on his forearm. Yancy stares up at Oliver in fear, and Yandere watches helplessly.

There is no warning before Oliver bends back Yancy’s arm, breaking it at the elbow. The crunching snap isn’t half as loud as Yancy’s scream. He kicks wildly against the pain, but Oliver’s grip doesn’t budge. Yandere screams as loud as Yancy does, fighting against his own captors.

“Stop it, stop!!” he screams.

Oliver doesn’t stop. He changes his grip, moves both hands closer to the now-broken elbow joint, and twists. Yancy howls as skin rips, then muscle. Blood spurts up, drops flecking Oliver’s glasses. Yandere hollers too, but he can only watch as Oliver finally severs most of the skin and muscle from the two halves of the arm and pulls the forearm off with a strong yank. Yancy’s scream raises an octave before dropping away as his eyes roll back from pain. He sags, semi-conscious, as Oliver lets his arm – the half that remains attached to Yancy – go, letting the man who held him previously grab him again. Yancy doesn’t react, wheezing faintly against the agony. But Yandere doesn’t stop screaming, doesn’t stop kicking.

“Kiiro-kun, how could you, how could you!!” Yandere wails, the gravity of the situation fully sinking in as he starts to cry.

“Please give him to me,” Oliver says to the men holding Yancy, “I will take him and the arm to separate locations away from the facility. I will stay hidden as I travel, and this will not be traced back to us.”

“Brilliant,” the leader laughs, “You heard him,” he adds to the men holding Yancy.

They give him up, and Oliver slings Yancy over his shoulder. He uses one arm to hold him there and his free hand to carry Yancy’s severed forearm. Blood pours from Yancy’s wound down Oliver’s back, but Oliver hardly seems to notice. He walks off, leaving a blood trail in his wake. Yancy is motionless, probably unconscious from shock and blood loss.

“Yan-kun!!” Yandere screams anyway, sobbing now, “He’s going to bleed to death, murderers, murderers–!”

“That’s enough out of you,” the leader growls. He pulls out an assault rifle from a holster on his back and approaches Yandere.

When he gets there, Yandere spits in his face.

“We’ll be missed,” Yandere growls through his tears, “And we’ll be found.”

For all his bravado, he’s not sure he even believes it.

“Doubt it,” the leader says, before hitting Yandere between the eyes with the heavy butt of his rifle.

Stars explode before Yandere’s eyes, and then the world goes dark.

[hereticpriest]

Sparks Part 1

John Wick Post Chapter 2 AU

John was made excommunicado but without the bounty on his head. He moves away and lives a normal life for once.

Warnings: None for this chapter. Future chapters may become NSFW. Canon-typical violence and swearing may occur in later chapters. Will be tagged.

@lvngdvns

It took a while for John to feel comfortable after his expulsion from the world he’d lived in most of his life. Unlike when he got out the first time, he felt quite certain that someone would come after him just for the prestige of having killed John Wick. He wasn’t protected in the same way he was the first time. He didn’t have a contract out for his head, but he was no longer welcome at the Continental, and he had plenty of enemies around the world.

His new home was outside of the city, up in a less inhabited region of upstate New York. The town closest to his new home was quaint, with only a bookstore, a pet store/groomer home business, a grocery store, a bank, a family restaurant, a hardware store and a gas station. The neighbouring town had a Target and a couple of chain fast food places, but anything beyond that would require a longer drive into the city. He had everything he needed close by, he had his dog, and he finally had the time to grieve.

Peace didn’t necessarily come easy to John. It took him months to stop looking over his shoulder and pulling his gun over random noises at night. He stopped wearing his tactical vest suit every day after a couple of months, though he didn’t get rid of it. It took him a while to become comfortable going out, but after a couple of months, he became a regular at the local bookstore. It was a small business owned by a young local woman, and it contained the only decent coffee in town. The Nestled Nook was in the old bank, so it had a very old school aesthetic and a reading area in the back which was once a vault. It was also one of the few places in town that had free wifi, and the download speed was faster there than it was at his house.

Which is how he met Natalia.

Natalia owned and operated The Nestled Nook with only minor assistance from her sole employee, Courtney Holland. Where Courtney was loud and boisterous in her efforts to sell product, Natalia was calm and disarming. Where Courtney was the epitome of youthful optimism, Natalia was what one would think of when hearing the phrase ‘an old woman in a young woman’s body’. They were opposites in almost every way, including in appearance.

Courtney had a sunkissed tan, pin-straight brown hair, and brown eyes that were so light they looked like the colour of honey. She was younger than Natalia by only four years, but her youth shone in a way that made the age gap so much more pronounced. She was not so average in height, but extraordinarily average in weight, and carried both off quite well. Tall as a beanpole with a slight pear shape and thighs that she claimed could snap a man’s neck, Courtney was one hell of a woman.

John couldn’t claim to be very fond of interacting with Courtney at length, as she had a tendency to push boundaries and ask probing questions. That being said, she had also married the owner of the local pet store and had helped him quite a bit when he was choosing things for Dog. He liked her well enough but kept her at arms-length in order to avoid her prying.

Natalia, on the other hand, was as white as a porcelain doll if not for the freckles dotted across her skin. Her hair fell in red curls around her face when she let it down, but she generally kept it in a loose bun held with hair needles and a whole lot of luck. Her eyes were such a light shade of blue that they were nearly grey, framed by long, pale lashes and crow’s feet at the corners that she was far too young to have. Natalia was average in height at about 5’6, but her shape was closer to a typical hourglass figure. She was toned where Courtney was soft, but she always made the excuse that it was from carrying books all the time.

John didn’t believe her when she waved off Courtney’s questions with that excuse, but he wasn’t supposed to be listening from his place in the stacks. He was waiting for Courtney to head back into the coffee bar area so that he could speak to Natalia and get her latest recommendations. She always knew what to suggest, and she always seemed to know when he needed a distraction. Despite his best efforts, he found her to be a rather tempting distraction. Natalia was just over half his age, a gentle soul, and most certainly not his wife. That being said, he had spent quite a bit of time adjusting to his new life and thinking about Helen’s note to him. She had made her wishes quite clear before that as well. She didn’t want him to dwell and close himself off completely. She told him he needed something to love. It had been just over a year since Helen passed away, and he finally felt some measure of peace.

Courtney batted at Natalia playfully, then glanced in his direction and smiled. She leaned in to Natalia’s ear, whispering something he couldn’t make out right before tweaking Natalia’s ear. Natalia’s cheeks turned pink, the blush showing easily on her light skin, and she tried to punch Courtney on the arm but missed. Courtney danced out of her reach and laughed full and loud.

“Even just one good one would last you for a while, Nat. You’re not as old as you act; you can’t use being too busy as an excuse forever.” Courtney practically sang, moving past him through the aisles towards the coffee bar. As she passed him, the brunette winked playfully and threw out a quick “Evening, Mr. Wick.”

Natalia had turned away from him, fanning herself and muttering something about nosy employees sticking their noses into her business. She wore her typical uniform: a black skirt that flared out around her stocking covered thighs and a white button-up topped with a cozy cardigan. If she wasn’t wearing a button up, she usually wore a sweater or a book-themed t-shirt.

“Natalia.” John greeted her quietly, a bit of a smirk tugging at his lips when she jumped in response.

“Oh! John, sorry, you startled me.” Natalia turned to face him, offering him a warm smile that caused the corners of her eyes to crinkle and emphasized her dimples.

“Sorry, my fault. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I’ve finished the last couple of books. I was wondering if you had any more suggestions?” John murmured, rubbing his short beard. He certainly didn’t look as intimidating as he usually did, considering his suit had been replaced by plain blue jeans and a white crew neck. That being said, his posture had only softened a bit and he was still just as quiet as he used to be.

Natalia laughed quietly, offering him her arm as a joke. Her laughter grew louder when he actually took her arm, large hand closing around her bicep to feel out her muscle tone.

“Of course, Mr. Wick. What are you looking for today?”

“Fiction. I’m interested in something different today…” John trailed off, starting to over-think his choice.

“And what would that be, John?” Natalia asked, leading him in the direction of the fiction novels.

“… Romance, I think.” John said before he could worry too much and talk himself out of it.

“Oh, I see. What sort of romance were you thinking? Are you looking for something mixed-genre where the romance is only part of the story, or flat-out romance? Serious, or light-hearted?”

Well, apparently that had flown right over her silly ginger head. John thought briefly of what Helen would tell him in this moment, oddly enough. She wanted him to be happy. She would be upset with him if he wasted away by himself. She was his best friend, and she knew him better than he knew himself some days.

“Would you like to get dinner with me tonight?” John asked after using his grip on Natalia’s bicep to guide her to stop walking. Wide blue eyes caught his gaze, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile. The young woman was silent for a moment, and he started to worry for a second before the corners of her lips turned up.

“Oh, of course John. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging there, I apologize. I just… wasn’t expecting that.” Natalia’s smile was brighter than usual, and there was a humour to her voice that usually wasn’t there. He took that as a good sign, considering the redhead was usually quite reserved. He nodded briefly, stepping just a tiny bit closer so she would have to look up at him.

“Do you want to eat at the Old Chelsea, go out of town, or would you like me to cook?” He asked, releasing his hold on her bicep, though he couldn’t help a small smile when Natalia caught and squeezed his hand.

“If we eat at the Old Chelsea, we will not get a single moment of peace. If you want to cook, I’d be happy to help?” Natalia offered, then giggled softly, “And what you’re thinking is completely correct – I am most certainly using you for your adorable dog.”

John snorted, and Natalia’s smile widened in response. She led him through the stacks to the romance section, pulling out a book before he could catch the title. Three stacks over, she grabbed another book, and lastly, she led him over to a ‘New Releases’ stack to pick up the sequel to one of the books he had read recently. She stacked up the three and put them in his hands, then scribbled her cellphone number onto a piece of paper which topped off the stack of books. John smirked at the sight of the number and the heart drawn next to it.

“Here are my suggestions. Take a look, and then come see me if you need more help. Text me what time you want me to come over. And your address.” Natalia leaned up to kiss his cheek, then headed up to the front of the store, leaving a smiling John Wick with the slightest hint of a pink kiss on his cheek from Natalia’s lip balm.

Twenty minutes later, he purchased all three suggested books from a smirking Courtney. She didn’t say anything, but it was clear she knew, approved, and thought she was very smart for predicting this.

“Bye Mr. Wick. Have a good night.” Courtney sang cheekily after him.

“I intend on it.” He retorted, waving at her over his shoulder, then letting out a short laugh when he heard a thump followed by Courtney yelping.

913 Bois-Franc Ave. Any time after 4, dinner will be at 5:30. Dog is excited to see you again. – JW

Be there with bells on. I’m excited to see him too. What should I wear? – NJ

You just said you would be wearing bells. – JW

Dress comfortably. It’s just me. – JW

I need to wear something under the bells, John. – NJ

Don’t even. I realized it as I hit send. I will be there just after 4. PS Courtney says you have lipstick on your cheek. – NJ

[sm-entertain-me]

Family Matters (Pt. 2) (E)

Requested by @ellasue48:  Hi, could you do a sequel to Family matters? It’s fine if you don’t do sequels or stuff. But I really loved that writing and it would be cool if there was a 2nd part to it. (It also doesn’t have to be smut, it could be fluff) Thanks :)

Contains: Park Jimin x (f) reader, ANGST, heavy adult language, mafia boss!Jimin, mafia boss daughter!reader, rivals!au, fluff, mentions of violence

Synopsis: Ever since your sexual adventures with the leader of your father’s rival gang went down, he’s all you can ever think about. Unfortunately, that means you haven’t been thinking all too much about covering evidence that you’ve been in his bed. And that’s not something that bodes too well with your father, the most powerful man in Seoul.

Family Matters (Pt. 1)

Raindrops fell onto the sleek windows of your father’s limousine, cascading down the glass as you watched which one of the raindrops that you focused on would win the little race they didn’t know they were a part of. You could feel your father’s intense gaze falling on your pristine skin, trailing over the skin when he leaned forward and thought he saw a soft shade of purple at the juncture of your neck. Refusing to acknowledge his gaze, you continued to admire the well lit streets of Seoul, sighing to yourself softly as you thought about your current situation. You knew you were a little hasty when it came to covering up evidence of your romance with the one person your father would enjoy killing out of anyone in this city. If he found out what you were doing with the leader of his rival gang, he would have both his head and yours.

“Sweetheart,” Your father’s voice called out languidly, ordering for you to give your attention to him and only him as you noticed the car had stopped on the side of the road. Gulping down the tiny amount of saliva that failed to coat your already dried throat, you turned to look at the man who struck fear into your heart, “Yes, daddy?” Your father’s head was tilted to the side as he continued to examine the column of your neck, not speaking another words to you as he motioned for you to come to his side of the limo. You could feel your heart begin to race as you made your way over to his side, settling uncomfortably next to your father as he grabbed your neck and yanked the soft fabric of your turtleneck down to reveal the mass of purple that continued from your neck down to the top of your breast. At least, that’s the only part he could visibly see.

The atmosphere of the limousine changed completely as you watched your father’s face turn into a shade of red you had only seen a handful of times, his brow cocked and his jaw clenched so hard you were sure he could break a coupe of his porcelain teeth from the sheer force alone. “What the fuck is this?” Your father glowered at you as he kept the fabric in his hand, his grip seeming to tighten the more angry he got. “Is this from him?” As much as you would love to lie to your father right now to save your own ass, you knew that lying to him would only make the consequences that much worse, so you gave in. “Y-Yes,” You stammered as you tried to pull away from your father’s grasp, feeling the way his fist clenched uncontrollably around the fabric. 

After your admittance of sleeping with his enemy, your father suddenly became very calm. Eerily calm. His grip relaxed and you were allowed to scramble to your side of the limousine, trying to get as far away from him as much as you could. You even tried to reach for the door handle to get the hell out of there, but your father simply held his hand down on the locking mechanism to keep you inside. “I see,” Your father began as he leaned over to take a swig of his expensive liquor, his eyes boring into your soul as he did so. “You fucked the person who stole you away from me? You allowed yourself to be taken advantage of by someone as lowly as him? After all I had to go through to get you back, this is how you repay me? My own daughter, a fucking worthless slut. I expected more of you.”

His words cut you deep as you squirmed uncomfortably against the leather of the seat, tears threatening to fall down your face. You had ultimately betrayed your father in the worst way possible. And in some respects, he was right. You allowed yourself to be taken advantage of by Jimin. But the thing was, you were glad you did. No one had ever fucked you that good and no one has ever shown you such kindness afterwards. He certainly wasn’t the person your father made him out to be. Your father hammered this image of a ruthless gang leader who destroyed everything that Seoul took pride in, claiming all he did was kill and rape women all over the city, stripping them from their families and leaving them to die on the streets. But that’s not what you got at all. Jimin was kind in some respects, and only rough when he needed to be. He carried such charisma and personality that you couldn’t help but become enamored with the simplest things he did. You were absolutely smitten.

Your thoughts of Jimin became quickly interrupted by the swift opening of your door, followed by two of your father’s men grabbing your by your arms and yanking you out of the car. “Get the hell off of me!” You screeched as you began to kick and thrash in their inhuman grasps, trying your best to get them to let you go. The henchmen showed no emotions as they kept you at bay, digging their hands into your arms to calm you down and get you to stop or else they wold be forced to subdue you with more violent tactics, all orchestrated by your own father. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but you’ve left me no choice,” Your father’s voice called out from the warmth of the limo you were just ripped out of, him leaning over to look at you from the tinted windows with a smirk playing across his face. “It’s just business.” 

You couldn’t believe what was happening as your father’s henchmen simply threw you on the ground of the street, returning to their posts inside of the limo to continue with their jobs. Watching the limo rev up and speed away finally brought you back into the horrifying reality that your father, the person who swore to protect you from everything in the world, was the person who just threw you to the side of the road like you were nothing but trash, something to throw away whenever he saw fit. As you sat on the street, you grabbed each of your knees and brought them to your chest, wailing loudly into them as you had been completely abandoned. The pain in your heart of your family disowning you was something you wouldn’t even wish on your worst enemy, and the look of your father’s face as he smirked at you was something you would never forget. 

You must’ve stayed on that curb for what seemed like at least an hour, sputtering out nonsensical sounds and broken cries. Maybe your father was right, after all. You were nothing but a worthless slut who was more than ready to give yourself up to someone who held onto your heart for one night. If only you hadn’t slept with Jimin and simply stuck to your guns like any respectable woman, you wouldn’t be in this situation.You wouldn’t have been thrown away, you wouldn’t be on this curb wailing loudly into your knees that got increasingly wetter as time went on, and you certainly wouldn’t be left with absolutely nothing. But you weren’t going to just sit there and do nothing, you were a L/N. And you weren’t about to let yourself fall. Instead you took your phone out and dialed the one person you thought would make this all better, even though he was the one who put you in this situation in the first place. Park Jimin.

The second you dialed his number, you were met with a soft voice, “Y/N?” “Jimin,” You sighed out, sniffling back your tears so you wouldn’t quite give away the fact that you were crying for he would surely get angry and demand to know who made you like this. There was a slight pause on Jimin’s line as he waited for you to respond but took it upon himself to continue the conversation when he realized you wouldn’t, “What’s wrong?” Biting back another flow of tears, you glanced up at the night sky that blanketed the whole city, gathering yourself before you croaked out, “I need you... I’ll explain later but please some quickly. I’m on the side of the road-.” “You’re on the side of the road? Where? I’ll be there as soon as I can, tell me where,” Jimin said as he sprung into action, concerned at the fact that you were out on the streets at night when half of the city knows exactly who you are, and not all of them are a fan of your father’s. Honestly, you can’t really blame them because you’re not exactly a fan at the moment.

You only had to wait maybe ten minutes on the curb when a black SUV pulled up, the person driving it immediately throwing it into park and rushing over to you. Even in your weakened state, you managed to pick your head up and were met with the soft smile of Jimin, his lips looking irresistible with the lights of the night falling onto them. “Y/N,” He breathed out as his arms wrapped tightly around your frame, pulling you closer to him as he breathed you in like a man starved of oxygen. You couldn’t help but allow your arms to wrap around him, him instructing you to hold on as he stood with you in his arms, carrying you to his car as he whispered reassuring things into your ear to keep you relaxed. The longer you stayed in his arms, the harder it was to resist sleep as the last thing you remembered was the sight of the curb getting more and more distant and the closing of the car door before you passed out.

_______________________

Similar to before, you found yourself in a completely new setting, although you had a good idea of where you were at this point. It was similar to the look of the holding room you were put in before, except there were no guards outside the door and you were only being watched by one person; Park Jimin. He was pacing the floor and running his hands through his hair nervously, mumbling to himself and cursing under his breath so he wouldn’t wake you up. “How could he fucking do that to her?” Was one of the hushed sayings that came out of Jimin’s mouth, followed by, “Even I’m not that evil. She’s his daughter!” Jimin finally stopped pacing the floor when he saw your eyes were opened and you were propped up on your elbows, watching him intensely.

“Y/N,” Jimin sighed as he walked over to you, grabbing your hand and holding it in his before he pulled you close to him and gave you a kiss on the head. “How are you feeling?” “Better,” You managed to croak out even though your voice had become extremely hoarse from the wailing you had done on the curb. Jimin let another sigh fall from his lips as he took his free hand and stroked it against your face, admiring your features. He loved the way your eyes looked when they shined at him, fell in love with the structure of your lips and how your cupid’s bow always enticed him, and absolutely couldn’t get over the way your smile caused his seemingly frigid heart to melt right before him. 

After studying your face, Jimin pushed a piece of your hair back and gave you a faint smile that paled in comparison to the ones he had given you before due to his concern about your health, “Good, I’m glad you’re okay.” A moment of silence passed over you as you couldn’t help but lick your lips upon seeing him, your heart fluttering at the way he seemed so worried about you, more worried than you had ever seen your father become with you. Jimin cocked his brow at the slight movement of your tongue running over your bottom lip, picking up on it immediately, “Is there something you need?” Shaking your head at him, you managed to smile even though you were in intense mental and physical pain, “No... Well, not right now anyway. I just wanted to thank you. I’ll only be here for a little bit until I can go back home... That is, if I even have a home anymore.” 

Jimin noticed the way your voice dropped at the end of your sentence, noticing the small pools of tears forming at the edge of your eyes and quickly grabbing your face to make you look at him. Once he saw the tears threatening to fall, he pressed his finger to your eyes and collected each of your tears expertly, refusing to let any of them fall as he looked into your now dry eyes with a smile, “There we go, much better.” You couldn’t help but smile for the man who was supposed to be this ruthless and uncaring ruler of Seoul, falling in love with his kind heart and being convinced that the real ruthless and uncaring leader of Seoul was none other than your father. “And as for your home,” Jimin’s voice rang out as he caressed the smooth skin of your cheek, collecting your attention once more. “You're already here.” 

He was absolutely right, you really had found your home here with Jimin.

[carrietrekkie]

Crossroads

Part I - I never wanted to do that.

Hello!

This one starts with a difficult decision and a little less Chris in it(Sorry for that, but he has his big moment in the next one.) Its three parts long, here is the first. Belongs to my Pike x Cathrin(OC) Story.

Warnings: Blood, violence, death,…

Tags: @bold-brave-courageous @allthetrek

Leave me a little fb, if you don´t mind.

Tyler’s eyes had something of a teacher who didn´t know what to do with his student. Like me, he stupidly had no choice.

The whole thing had started as kind of flight lesson, but then we had received a weak emergency call and since the shuttle was already on the move, Pike had decided that we could take a look at it. We all counted on a false alarm, but were instantly better informed when our shuttle exited Warp. The small cargo ship in front of us drove impulsively in the room, didn´t respond to our calls and the scans indicated that his crew, apart from a few, irregular signs of life, was no longer available. Tyler had dropped the shuttle in the hangar and continued to direct me into my first field mission. “Okay, I don´t like it, but I cannot look around in it all by myself.” He pulled out a gear belt, put it over me and closed it in front. “Too tight?” “I don´t know?” I watched him, a mixture of excitement and naked fear dancing tango in my stomach. “What should happen with it?” “Communicator.” He held out the box to me, I put it away. “Tricorder.” I reached for the device. He sighed, then slipped something into my belt, dropped slightly to his knees, and fastened a strap around my thigh. “Phaser.” He turned and picked up one of the weapons from the wall.

“Great.” I joined his sigh. “Must that be?” “It’s regulation. You will not need it.” “Your word in God’s ear canal.” I grinned at him, then I looked at the black weapon in my hand. “It’s set for stun.” Ash just put his own gun away, then leaned in to me. “So you change the attitude, well as I said, we don´t need that.” “But good to know.” Then I grabbed the phaser and looked at it. “And now?” He activated the opener for the ramp on the small spaceship, lifted his phaser lightly and we watched as it lowered and dulled on the ground. Slowly we left the ship and entered the freighter. Tyler threw a small ball in the air, which immediately began to collect data. “I’m not a pro, but it’s pretty quiet here.” I turned briefly around my axis, it was dark and cold. “Which would made our theory that the com system just has failed, for the ton.” Ash nodded towards the exit. “Let’s start on the bridge.” “What’s that thing?” I looked at our companion. “An observation drone. It tracks our movements and can help us if we lose our bearings. ” “That would be my part then.” I smiled at him, he returned it, then we moved on. Also out here it was very quiet. The lights flashed and some sparks flew through the area. “What happened here?” “It looks like an overvoltage has damaged the wires.” Ash glanced at one of the displays, which, too, flickered only lightly. He typed something in. “But the computer doesn´t give anything.” “So in the old-fashioned way.” “I allow myself to claim that we both understand two completely different things about that.” “That could be quite possible.” I glanced back over my shoulder. “How big is such a cargo ship?” “That depends on the class.” Tyler pointed to the left. “There are some that are just big enough for a few containers, some so huge that they can transport all the equipment needed to rebuild a colony.”

“Wow, like a ship of the galaxy class?” I took a quick look into the corridor that went off to the right, this was empty too. “What’s a galaxy class ship?” Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Well, the Enterprise.” I looked at him. “Um no.” Now he came up to me. “The Enterprise belongs to the Constitution class.” “Oh.” I pulled my eyebrows together. “Are you alright?” “Yes.” I didn´t take my smile off myself. “Yeah, all right, that just happened to me somehow like that.” I kept pointing, then I started walking and he followed me. “Do you have that more often?”

“This was the first time since Talos.” I thought for a moment. “And the first time it relates to anything other than the people I met here.” “What do you make of it?” “I don´t know.” I squinted at him. “Above all, I don´t know if I should tell you.” He laughed briefly. “It was enough for me Prescot missed a hell of a trip, I don´t want to know what Leland comes up with.” “Captain Leland is a lot less bad.” Tyler shook his head for a moment. “You know how that sounded?” “Yes, but it was already out of my mouth.”

We turned a corner and both stopped dead in our tracks. In front of us, a trail of blood spread, which quickly ended in a pool of blood. “Oh, bad.” I glanced at him. “Okay, you need the phaser.” “I was afraid you would say that.” I did, however, comply with his order. Slowly we moved on.

“Carefully.” Tyler made me understand that I should stay behind him, then we started. As we passed the bloodstain, I lit it with the Phaser’s faint lamp. "Is that pink?” Again my brain threw a rag and I answered myself. “Klingons have pink blood.” “How do you know that?” I raised an eyebrow, he did it to me. “Yes, right, sorry. However, that does not make our situation any better. ” “I thought there was peace between the Klingon Empire and the Federation?” I had to see that I got on with my research. “That’s the way it is, but not everyone sees it and there are always black sheep´s. Even in the Federation. ” “Ohh, that I know.”

“Stop.” He stretched out his arm and I ran into it, then saw what alarmed him. A few feet away, a body lay on the ground. “I hate to say it, could be your responsibility.” “My responsibility?” “Medicine and so on? I’m not up to it.” “Mmh.” I followed him to the body, then dropped the phaser. “I don´t think I’m comfortable with it.” Slowly, I went to my knees and pulled the tricorder anyway. Tyler had been so far-sighted as to give me a medical one. “And I don´t think this thing is familiar with it either.” I tried to get out of the confusing data that the device showed me. “Okay, he seems to be dead.”

Tyler didn´t say anything, instead he stood behind me, his weapon at the ready and alerted to the tips of his hair. “Do you see why?” “I cannot see any big injuries.” I knelt down and leaned over the dead man. “Or something that looks like the hit of a weapon.” “But?” He looked over my shoulder. “He looks sick. He has bled from the body orifices I can see. "I refrained from pulling up his eyelids, but I was sure they would be bloodshot. "His skin looks swollen and sore.” I raised the phaser and lit it up. “Apparently he has also bleed out of his digestive system.” Now I lit Tyler. “I suppose Klingons have such organs?” His answer was another slate look. “Hey, I’ve never seen a real Klingon, so apart from you and I think that doesn´t count.” He started walking up and down a few steps. “Maybe 50 percent.”

“Do you know what a hemorrhagic fever is?” Now he looked at me questioningly. “It is a virus form on   Earth, maybe something exists on other planets, unfortunately I don´t know that.” I got up again. “It’s a cruel way to die, the organs liquefy, you bleed from all orifices in the body, and if you don´t burn till high fever, you’ll suffocate your own blood or bleed inside.” “Get out!” “I didn´t touch him.” I stared at Tyler as he came to me wide-eyed, grabbing my arm and starting to pull me away. “Ash, what’s up?” “This is not a good sign.” He pointed to the corpse. “It’s contagious and far more dangerous than what you’ve just told me.” When I finally adjusted to his pace, he let go of me. “He was certainly not alone.” “If you wanted to scare me.”

Then something crashed into Ash with unimaginable force, knocking him off his feet, flinging him against the nearest wall, before twisting with a gruesome growl.

“Oh, great God.”

I backed away as my brain caught what was building up in front of me. So that was a Klingon, alive and apparently angry. “Ash!” I looked around frantically, then my eyes fell on the phaser in my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Tyler wobbly on his legs, shaking his head, then running and leaping with all his might against the attacker in front of me.

The Klingon swung a kind of sword. Tyler bent down and the blade missed him very sharply, but she caught me by the arm. I shouted for a moment, rolling over and falling to the ground. The phaser slipped out of my hand and down the hall a few yards away. A scream made me drive around and I could just see the Klingon twisted Tylers arm and slammed him against the door frame, dazed, he fell to the ground and remained lying. “Ash!”

Panic crept up in me as the Klingon now turned back to me. Growling, he came slowly closer. I felt like a prey he had chosen to play with. I pushed away and crawled toward the phaser on the ground more than I ran, but something caught my boot and pulled me back just as my fingers tips reached the gun’s handle. Helplessly I had to watch as it slipped away and the Klingon dragged me back. I reached out with my free leg and kicked him as hard as I could against his nose. He hissed and released me. Blood spurted from it, but I paid no attention to it, came to my feet, stumbled to my gun, tore it up and squeezed. Horrified, I watched him stumble for a moment, shaking himself as if the stun beam were an annoying insect, then he relented.

“Cathrin!” Tyler came slowly to himself, so I slowed down and was lucky that the beefy Klingon had not expected that and took a moment to realize that I ran past him to Tyler. “Ash, come on, we have to get out of here!” I grabbed him under hia arm and was surprised to find that despite his slender figure, he was surprisingly heavy. Behind us our attacker roared, drew another weapon and rushed towards us. “Shoot ‘em.” Ash could hardly speak in pain, but somehow managed to shove his phaser into my hand. I raised the gun and squeezed again. Again no effect. Ash rolled his eyes and began to slide out of my arms again. “Shit.”

I hesitated a moment, then turned the phaser fully open and pointed it forward again. But then I couldn´t do it. I couldn´t shoot. Tyler tore me down with him again, again he had to fight for his consciousness, but I with very different things. When the Klingon screamed again, he stood directly in front of us, his sword raised and his gaze fixed on Tyler. But before he could deliver the fatal blow, something inside me burned and I pulled the trigger. The strong beam hit him right on the head and I could see right away that this time it didn´t missed his effect. A terrible grunt slipped from his throat as he folded over me and fell to my feet.

I gasped and slipped back a bit, but before I could bang through, a pained sound from Tyler’s direction stopped me. “Ash!” I slipped over to him. He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, his lip was slightly torn and he held his arm. “Can you get up?” “Yeah, just get out of here.” He scrambled to his feet and this time I somehow managed to get him on his feet. “This way.” “Okay.” I put his good arm over my shoulders and hoped he would have the strength to get through to the shuttle. Surprised by myself, we found the way back to the hangar faster than expected. I dragged him into the shuttle, slid down to the floor, and closed the ramp with a quick handshake. Nobody would get through that for now. Completely exhausted, I slapped myself on the floor, my muscles burned, my heart beat so hard it was almost blowing, and every breath burned like crazy. The fabric of my uniform was sticking to me and my hands were shaking.

“Ahhh.” Tyler rolled away when the attempt to get up failed. “Wait.” I pulled myself together, grabbed the first aid kit and crawled to him. I pulled out a tricorder, then crossed his arm. “He dislocated your shoulder.” “What you don´t say.” He squinted hard. “Do you have painkillers in there?” “If we don´t fix that, you might lose your arm.” I started looking for a hypospray. “Muscle Relaxation.”

Annoyed, I dumped the case and searched for an ampoule of the drug. “Ah.” I put it in the spray and pressed it to Tyler’s neck. “Do you want to tell me what this is going to be?” “I don´t think so.” I smiled weakly at him. “Sit up.” With a groan, he responded to the request. I loaded an ampoule of the strongest painkiller I found into the spray, then I inject it. “It should be better now.” “Okay and what’s that for?” “You´ll notice.” I grabbed his arm, knelt in front of him and looked at him. “Sorry.” “What?”

I pressed his upper body against the wall and then his arm back until I heard it crack loudly. It even hurt me. That he was screaming so much didn´t really make it any better. “Are you crazy !?” He glared at me evilly. “It would have been even worse if I had warned you.” I let go of his arm and dropped back onto my feet. “I’m sorry, but now it should be better immediately.” He took a breath, apparently he wanted to scold another round, but just when he opened his mouth, he apparently decided otherwise.

“I’m right.” I raised my eyebrows. “You are.” Carefully, he began to move his injured arm. “What was that?” I got up from the floor and looked out the window of the shuttle. “I guess, pirates, looters. Will you help me? ” “Sure.” I went back and helped him get up. “Slowly.” “Whoa, what did you give me?” He held his head. “Not that it doesn´t feel good.” “A relaxant and painkiller.” I brought him forward and just wanted to put him in the pilot’s seat as he waved off.

“No, this place.” He swung himself into the co-pilot’s. “If I lose consciousness, you have to fly the ship.” “Sure.” I grinned at him. “Any other wishes?” “You’re fine.” Now he grinned. “Can you still pull yourself together a little bit?” I started to ran up the shuttle’s systems. “I have no idea what I have to do.” Somehow I managed to get the engines started. “Oh, look at that.” Tyler sank back into the seat. “Something stuck. Now this switch. ” “Okay.” I followed his finger, then accelerated and left this inhospitable place. “How did I set a course?” I looked to the right, but instead of answering, Tyler’s head rolled backwards. “Ash!” I yelled at him, which made him start up again. “Don´t leave me alone now.” “Trying to connect Discovery, maybe they could pick us up.” “Yeah, that sounds good.” I looked out the window. “Could they shoot us?” “I think that’s unlikely.”

Tyler’s breathing was heavy, he fought the medications and the stuff that his own body was spilling out, but he wouldn´t be able to last forever. “What these Klingons had, also attacks the logical thinking. They only act, react. ” “Yeah well, save your energy, it’ll take a while before we get home.” I tried to remember Kelya’s flying lesson and carried out the necessary orders to reach Discovery.

“Shuttle three to Discovery, come in, please.” I listened to the silence that followed. “Shuttle three, here Discovery, we’ll hear you.” Pike’s voice came from the Con, shortly thereafter the screen came on and we saw the bridge. “Everything OK?” “Um, no, not really.” I smiled quickly. “We were attacked when we entered the damaged ship.” “Who attacked you?” “Klingon.” I was aware that my voice sounded a bit shrill. “And they were huge and incredibly bad. Well, actually it was only one. ” “Cathrin.” Ash muttered softly. “Oh, right. Tyler is injured and busy not totally losing consciousness. ”

“Where are you?” Pike signaled to Owo and I could see her fingers flying over the console. “I don´t know.” My eyes darted over the displays of the shuttle. “How…” “Quiet, we’ll help you through.” Pike turned to Burnham. “Can we find them?” “As long as they keep the frequency open, that should not be a problem.” “See,” he turned back to us. “All good.” I smiled crooked, then something else caught my attention. “There are a lot of colorful lights here all at once.” I squinted. “I think the cargo ship explodes!” “Start the impulse engines!” Pikes voice let me twitch briefly. “Left from you. Fingers on the control and slowly push forward. ” It took me a second to find the control panel, then I put my fingers on it and executed Pike’s instructions.

“Good.” He tried to smile encouragingly, well, as far as I could see, then I felt the blast of the collapsing freighter hit our hull and before I knew it, Tyler and I flung it out of the seats and threw ourselves through the small spaceship. Tyler slapped the floor, lay there and I rolled to my back. “Cathrin! Do you hear us? "That was Michael’s voice. "Ash, get in touch!” “Detmer set course, max Warp.” I opened my eyes, rolling over and cursing softly. “I clearly spend too much time on the ground of those things.” I scrambled up from them and looked ahead. The shuttle had turned and I could see the still smoldering remains of the freighter. “Shuttle three please respond!”

“Yeah, here Zimmer, we’re still alive, just shaken up a bit.” I went to Tyler and turned him carefully on the back. “Right now you are really to be envied.” Then it flashed again. A blue beam covered the ship and I felt something pull us backwards. “Discovery here, we have you.” “Understood.” I slumped against the wall next to Tyler, then closed my eyes briefly and didn´t open them until I felt the shuttle touched down and opened from the outside.

Masterlist

[noliereyes]

ingénue | flashback 005

or, magnolia reyes shows the entirety of Panem what she’s made of, in more ways than one. ( flashback to the 72nd games ) | tw: death, tw: violence, tw: injections

Nolie stands in the wings backstage, watching Garnet wrap up his interview. Her hair is in a loose crown braid, magnolia flowers woven into her black hair, and her dress is a soft gold and white to match the delicate flowers, flouncing in layers of tulle and landing at her knees. She’s wearing soft berry-coloured lipstick that makes her somehow feel older and look younger, like a little girl finding her sister’s makeup. She stands steady beside Aphrodite, hands clasped behind her back in lieu of fiddling with the embroidery on her skirt. Enobaria is there too, watching from behind, hands behind her back. Nolie locks eyes with her, and simply nods. Her head is in the game, tonight.

Nolie had given up on being noticed by Enobaria a while ago. When she’d all but thrown a tantrum over her mentor refusing to watch her do all her tricks, refusing to shower her with praise. Enobaria’s words had only been “I’ll pay attention once you impress me”, and that had become the driving goal for her week. She just wanted to show her mentors that she didn’t make a mistake.

“Now, our next tribute is perhaps the youngest District Two has ever seen! How exciting!” Caesar exclaims to the audience. Nolie’s heart pounds. Showtime. “We might just get a peek at what junior training is like! We’ve heard that it was her older sister who was supposed to be here, but this little lady just couldn’t wait any longer! I love that!” he laughs. “Everyone, please give a warm welcome to little miss Magnolia Reyes!”

Nolie takes the stage with a smile, almost skipping as she left Aphrodite and her mentors to meet Caesar. The urge hits her to do a little twirl, so she does, staying perfectly in time with her steps, not missing a beat. “Caesar!” she squeals, bouncing right over to give him a hug. “It’s so good to meet you! I’m such a big fan,” she adds, sitting down in her seat. Just far back enough to let your feet dangle. Embrace the small. Sit up straight. Big smile. “And please, it’s Nolie to friends.”

“Well, I’m a big fan of yours, Nolie!” He exclaims. “Now, you might just be Two’s youngest-”

“Of all time,” she answers, cheeky, and grins when the audience chuckles. 

“Of all time!” Caesar repeats with a gentle laugh. “How exciting! Now, there might be some people out there, who think that a little thing like yourself might not be able to be as good of a tribute as, say, your beautiful mentor Enobaria! Why don’t you tell the crowd a little bit of what you’re made of?”

“Well, Caesar,” Nolie giggles. “Back home, I just love to dance and do acrobatic tricks. And, when I got better at it, I realized that I could be a Victor just like Miss Enobaria when I grew up! So I started learning how to fight, too. And it’s just as much fun as dancing.” Giggling this much was exhausting, but necessary.

Caesar laughs, and the crowd cheers, absolutely eating it up. “How wonderful!” He exclaims. “Now, you are quite small to be volunteering here, aren’t you? Why did you decide that this year…” he leaned in closer. “Was your year?”

“I just couldn’t wait anymore!” she says, hands clasped in front of her. Back in Two, Margot breathes a sigh of relief. Her secret is safe.

“We love that, don’t we?” Caesar asks, and what Nolie is doing is working. The crowd eats it up, squealing and cheering for the tiny Career. 

The dynamic is a difficult one to maintain, the ability to be both soft and hard, both ferocious and sweet, both vicious and youthful. Aphrodite went over it with her, over and over, the balancing act that Nolie tried so carefully to maintain. It’s not often that a District Two tribute is trained to be anything but ruthless, but Nolie needs to be. And it works. Against all odds, it works. 

“What do you think is your biggest asset, Nolie?”

“I can’t tell all of my secrets, Caesar,” she smiles. “But I can say that I’ve been working super-duper hard this week. And I can’t wait to put on a great show for everybody!”

“And you certainly put on a good show for the Gamemakers, I see!” Caesar adds. “A nine, Nolie, that’s incredible! Are you sure you can’t tell us any secrets?”

Nolie giggles, clasps her hands in front of her. “Well, I can say that I did a few flips and tricks, just for fun, of course. And maybe you’ll see them in the Arena, who knows? But other than that, no secrets!”

“I love that! Just a little tease,” Caesar laughs. “Now, Miss Nolie, our time together is nearly finished. Is there anything else you’d like to say to everybody watching back home! You can look right into that camera and say anything you’d like!” Nolie straightens her shoulders, smiles cheekily, and delivers her final words to the camera. Words that are repeated, over and over, by Capitol girls for the weeks to come.

“I just want to say to all the little girls out there in Panem, that if you work hard and try your best, you can be anything you want to be!”

Nolie finds herself a spot near one of the monitors backstage to watch Miles as he enters the stage. He's as confident as his sister upon his entrance, waving to the crowd with his warm, friendly smile. Chenille dressed him in an outfit with golden elements, the gold clips on his suspenders, a gold cuff bracelet. And pinned to his jacket lapel, a white magnolia.

“Miles Reyes!” Caesar laughs, grabs his hand in a firm shake. “It is sure a pleasure to meet you, after meeting your little sister! She sure is a great kid, isn’t she?”

“The best,” Miles says with a soft smile.

“When you volunteered,” says Caesar. “It didn’t feel like the usual District Two volunteering. It’s not something we see very often, siblings volunteering together. But I feel like this was different. Like a brother ready to protect his sister.  Would you agree, Miles?”

“Of course,” Miles says, his throat thick with emotion. “I love Nolie more than anything. It’s… when she volunteered, I had to go with her. To either protect her, or to come home in her place if she can’t.” The crowd lets out a collective sigh, heartbroken along with him.

Nolie turns and leaves with a throat choked up with tears. She can’t watch the rest.

Miles finds her eventually, curled into the space between her bed and the window. She leans against the side of her bed, staring out at the city. The second floor has a unique view, the ability to see things up closer, to see the skyline in the distance. Nolie’s pretty sure that even though Twelve has the penthouse, she’s got the best view.

“Hey.” Miles leans in, lays across her bed so his head is next to hers. “How are you holding up?”

“I’ll be fine.” Nolie keeps looking out over the city, but reaches pack to pat Miles’ head. “You did well up there. I caught some of it.”

“You too,” Miles adds. “I talked to Garnet. We’re locked for tomorrow. Plan’s still the same.”

The plan. The plan of getting as many tributes down in the first moments of the Games as possible. The idea made Nolie’s stomach turn backflips.

“Do you want to just sit for a while?” Miles asks. He pulls himself forward, moves to sit beside her on the floor and wraps an arm around her shoulders. 

Nolie nods, and they fall asleep there, Nolie tucked into Miles’ arm, two siblings. Just holding on.

Nolie wakes the day of the launch, heart pounding, hands shaking. 

She’s never been one to be scared of much before, so the feeling is foreign. Why are her veins made of ice? What is this ringing in her ears. 

Peculiar. Unfamiliar. Fear was not supposed to be a part of this. And yet, it’s there. 

She follows Miles, Enobaria, and Fell all out to the hovercrafts. It’s tempting to reach out, hold Miles’ hand, but she has to be mature, has to hold her own out here. I’ll pay attention when you impress me. And she does not cry. Not when the door opens and she says goodbye to her team, when the tracker is inserted painfully into her arm, when the hovercraft’s lights go out. 

If she’s going to do this, she has to let fear live alongside her. 

Chenille meets her in the catacombs, and helps her dress in a romper made of a breathable, stiff fabric, hiking boots with socks, and a little safari hat in District Two’s dark red palette ( an interesting fashion choice, but she’s in no position to complain ). Immediately, the wheels start turning in Nolie’s head. She wants to admire herself as Chenille braids her hair into two French braids down her back, but she’s also thinking. What kind of arena are they in for?

She finds out moments later, standing bravely, tall, hands on her hips as the platform raises her into the Arena.

It’s hot and dry, the ground below them consisting of hard-packed dirt with slightly dying grass scattered around the edges of the Cornucopia. The horn itself is large and rustic, and Nolie swears it looks to be carved from some kind of bone in addition to the wooden base. All around them are entrances into a lush, dense forest, with a river running across the Arena, shallow enough in parts to cross. 

Miles is four down from her, Gill from four is two to her left. Carina, the quiet blonde girl, is across the circle beside Elliana, and Garnet is a few down from them. The Careers have the upper hand on location. The countdown ends, and Nolie takes off running.

She finds another tribute, the boy from Eleven, and springs like a cat, throwing herself onto his back. Before the boy knows what even happened, Nolie’s got her arms wrapped around his head and she twists with a sickening crunch before he can even bite her.

Both of them fall to the ground, and she hates the way it feels.

She grabs the pack from his hands and takes off for Miles, her eyes on a tall girl from Five who is approaching Miles, too. Before the other girl can do anything to him, Nolie repeats the motion: up, wrap, snap. The girl falls to the ground and Nolie falls into a crouch behind her, hands shaking, and Miles stares at his baby sister in a mix of horror and pride.

“Damn, Tiny!” Gill shouts as he cheerfully beheads the boy from Three. “Baby girl’s got guts!”

Nolie positively beams amidst the chaos.

The Bloodbath ends not long after that, and the Careers stand inside the horn while the hovercrafts pick up the eleven bodies scattered around it. The blood stains the dirt and Nolie watches it, tries to stay calm as they set up a camp inside the horn. There are sleeping bags, and canteens, but not the kinds of weapons Nolie knows what to do with. Things like swords, bows, heavy things for heavy opponents.

It makes Nolie shiver to think of what they might need to defend themselves against.

It’s only about three hours into the Games when there’s a parachute falling from the sky. Elliana grabs it, tears into it, and then passes it to Nolie with a pout. “It’s not mine,” she whines.

“Why would anyone send you anything?” Gill shoots back, lining up his shot with his trident, practicing his aim.

“Fuck off, Gilbert.”

“You take that back,” he adds playfully, as Nolie opens the parachute, revealing a butterfly knife. Delicate, beautiful, exactly what she wants. Attached is a note that makes Nolie’s heart swell, that keeps a smile on her face for hours, that boosts her determination. The knife is exactly what she wants, but the note is exactly what she needs.

You impressed me. Use this well. - Enobaria

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

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QUEST 03: LET SLEEPING GODS LIE

QUEST SUMMARY:

Jahaan stumbles upon a newly excavated chamber, one that a charismatic young stranger claims to be where Guthix resides under the earth. However, once this knowledge becomes commonplace, many different factions come to a head, either to protect the sleeping god, wake him, or destroy him…

CHAPTER 4: END SONG

The cavern appeared to be a bottomless abyss; the background was the darkest fathomable black, a blank canvas to star-like energy particles floating upwards into the nothingness. Beneath the platform Jahaan had entered, a figure stood tall, so tall that he could have stretched from the centre of the planet and Jahaan would be none the wiser, with thick green skin and a crown of glowing orbs to sit atop his humanoid head. He was most certainly awake; his blue eyes looked up at the adventurer with contentment.

Guthix.

Peering down over the edge of the platform, Jahaan saw a series of rocks jutting outwards, leading closer to Guthix. On these rocks stood Orlando, staring up at the giant deity. Jahaan was about to call out to him, when suddenly, a flash of light enveloped the architect, causing Jahaan to shield his vision. When he managed to open his eyes again, Orlando was no more, and in his place stood a shadowy figure.

His purple robes were broken up at the hood by stripes of red and black, decorative and imposing. Tiny yellow pupils glistened in his black, hollow eyes; when he turned to look up at Jahaan, his smile was wicked and mischievous, like one of a proud sinner.

Jahaan’s eyes narrowed into slits. Sliske.

With a wave of his wrist, a large staff appeared in his hands, two golden wings at the end with a blue crystal in between them. Turning back to Guthix, he held the staff aloft, and moments later, a violent burst of lightning shot from the end and pierced into Guthix’s heart. Guthix roared in agony, shaking the chamber with his pained cries. An orange liquid started seeping from the wound, faster and faster as the staff’s energy plunged deeper into the god’s chest. Jahaan could only watch, helpless, as Guthix’s life force was drained away.

Content with the damage he had done, Sliske teleported away.

Guthix’s head lulled forwards, his chest heaving with staggered breaths as his raspy throat fought for air.

In the silence, Jahaan was frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off the wound on Guthix’s chest. He almost fell to the ground when a voice echoed around him.

“Do not be afraid. You have no enemies here. As I believe you know, I am Guthix.”

Trying to regain a level-head, Jahaan cleared his throat before replying, “What just happened? Are you injured?”

“Sliske was wielding an elder weapon. A god slayer, if you will. I am dying, Jahaan Alsiyad-Abut. But we still have time. It has been most interesting watching your brave journey to get here.”

Jahaan’s eyes widened. “You knew what was happening outside?”

“Yes. I saw everything. You put up an honourable defence and I thank you. Before the end, there is something I must show you. I must share this with someone, before these memories die with me…”

When the world faded back into life, Jahaan was standing in a foreign land, consisting of what appeared to be giant trees supporting shattered floating islands, which had leaves dangling from the bottom of them. Lights could be seen hanging from branches, and broken paths connected some of the islands, which had tree roots flowing through them. Purple plants of varying sizes were found growing in every direction.

“Guthix?” Jahaan called out, puzzled.

“I am here,” Guthix assured, teleporting in front of him. He was considerably smaller than before, standing barely an inch taller than Jahaan himself. His skin was a mossy green, with shawn bark-coloured hair on his head. His golden robes were that of a simple man, tattered and passed down for generations, but still with enough life in them to last. He had no armour and bore no weapons, and anyone could not be blamed for mistaking him for a farmer of this world.

“I have taken a form from my past,” Guthix announced, quietly, as if he didn’t wish to disturb the silent surroundings.

“Your past? Where are we?”

“This is my homeland. Or rather, my last memories of it, moments before I left.”

Jahaan crinkled his brow. “Your homeland?”

The two began walking through the remains of this world. “Have patience, all will be explained. You saw Sliske - the Mahjarrat - deal his final blow... I am dying. I have slowed our passage of time momentarily, so I may share this with you. Many millennia ago, I was born here, on Naragun, far away from the land you call home. From as far back as I can remember, this world was in turmoil. My world was home to many gods; many beings who would claim it as their own. The gods fought relentlessly, and as more and more came, the fighting became increasingly vicious. War broke out and lasted for centuries. The world was ravaged, and the population decimated. And do you know who came out the victor, Jahaan?”

Jahaan shook his head.

“No one. No one emerged triumphant from this ordeal,” Guthix’s reply was sharp and loaded. “My people were killed. All of my friends, my family. I was left to stand alone on this devastated plane, with memories of what my life had been.”

There were corpses scattered all around the barren landscape; Jahaan deduced that these must be Guthix's memories of his friends and family, all killed in the wars that destroyed this world. Their clothes were basic, and they carried no weapons. They looked more like farmers and crafters than warriors, the kind of people that would not stand much of a chance against a god's army. It was sickening that so many of the dead were not soldiers. As the gods' battles became more fervent, innocent citizens must have become accidental casualties, eventually wiping out Guthix's race altogether.

“What about the gods?” Jahaan inquired.

“Many died. Many fled,” Guthix guided Jahaan to a dead god that loomed over the landscape, terrifying even in death. His appearance suggested that he was not a benevolent god, although even if he were it seems that none of the gods who visited this world cared much for the mortals living upon it.

“He is one of the fallen. A god, long-dead and forgotten,” Guthix explained. “In the last days of the war, I believed I was soon to die, too. There was no food, no water. I scavenged among the dead, until one day I found a weapon; a large sword, crackling with energy. I recognised it as a weapon of the gods. The 'elder weapons', as they referred to them. These weapons were prized among them, and they fought desperately over these. I knew it to be my only chance, so I took it. Having seen so much violence, I do not believe in it as a solution. But in this case, I had no other choice. In the dead of night, I crept from the ruins of my home. I found a slumbering god - the god you see before you - peaceful amid the rubble. I stabbed him with the elder weapon, driving it deep into his back. The weapon shattered as the god reared back in pain before crashing to the ground. As I watched him take his last breaths, I felt power growing within me. I became a god myself, equal to those who had tormented my life. I left this world and its painful memories. I fled for centuries, aimlessly wandering until something captured my attention. I felt drawn to a planet - Gielinor. It was beautiful, and more importantly, empty. It was somewhere I could hide, and mourn my dead. I had not expected to find the Stone upon it - the Stone of Jas - granting me a power greater than even the gods of my homeworld.”

The two walked past what appeared to be the remains of a ruined temple. Some of Guthix's race must have begun to worship the gods who came to this world, creating shrines and temples for them, becoming caught up in the very war that destroyed them. A warped form of Stockholm syndrome. If he squinted, Jahaan thought he could pick out a familiar symbol carved onto what was left of the shrine.

It was a four-pointed star.

Before he decided to continue that particularly saddening train of thought, Jahaan stopped their strolling beside an unidentified corpse. Unlike Guthix's race, this creature was clearly a warrior. It almost looked as if it was created purely for combat, with strong muscles and thick skin. It could have ripped a naragi to shreds in seconds. The creature was wearing tough armour, bearing the mark of a long-forgotten god.

Jahaan inquired, “What is this? It doesn't look like any race I've ever seen.”

“It is a god's warrior - a creature introduced to this world only for war. The sparring gods brought in other races to fight for them, creating their own armies, much like how the Mahjarrat were introduced to Gielinor. When I arrived in Gielinor, I spent a long time alone. I didn't know what my future held, or what I should do next. Eventually, I came upon what I believed was my purpose. I aimed to create a world free of the influence of gods, a world where the inhabitants would not have to fight other beings' wars. So, I introduced my own chosen races: humans, gnomes, dwarves, sheep... beings who do not strongly tend towards evil, nor good. I chose tribes who had no concept of gods, and I brought them to Gielinor, to live uninfluenced lives while I retained the balance. I even bought Seren with me, and she brought her elves…” Guthix paused for a moment, lost in his own reminiscing. Shaking his head, his light tone turned sorrowful once more as he continued, “But I was naive; my plan would never work. I should have seen it coming. I introduced the mortals to the world, and I had a power greater than they had ever seen. The mortal races began to worship me. They built shrines to me, made sacrifices… they waited on my every word. It pained me deeply to see myself becoming what I had always loathed. They should not have been living beneath me. I wanted them to be free, balanced, to make their own decisions. Knowing my presence was thwarting my efforts, I withdrew into the earth, to sleep. I hoped I would be forgotten over the ages. But it was not long before the other gods arrived.”

As he spoke, Guthix’s voice was growing weaking, fading. “I feel my strength draining. We are nearly at the end.”

The two walked up some floating wooden steps, held together with study tree roots. Beside the steps stood a stone tablet among the ruins. The clarity of the writing suggested that Guthix had a strong memory of this tablet; perhaps it was something he saw every day, or something dear to him. Along the path, just beyond the stone, stood the crumbled remains of a house.

As they continued up the steps, Guthix continued, “When I ended the war of the gods, I did it with no pleasure. I already knew I had failed. Looking over Gielinor, it was like looking at my homeland: the land ravaged; the mortals worshiping a multitude of gods, including myself. The races brought in by the now-banished gods remained, and disrupted the balance at every turn. Battles raged on, in the names of the absent gods. I could banish the gods themselves, but I could not remove the memories of them, nor the blind faith displayed by their followers. Besides, my own interference would only disrupt the balance even more. I have disproportionate power, more than any single being should have. But now, balance will be restored, with my passing. I could have prevented this, Jahaan. I have been awake since you triggered the alarm. I knew what would happen.”

Realisation dawned upon Jahaan heavily. “You… you could have stopped Sliske... why didn't you?”

“Jahaan, I have been the most powerful being on Gielinor since my arrival. Of course I could have stopped Sliske if I had desired to. But I embrace my death. It must occur, if the world is to be balanced. If the gods return, another war is inevitable. Gielinor must be returned to peace before war destroys it... before it becomes like my own world. A dead, desolate wasteland... Gielinor must be protected, Jahaan. But not by me. By a mortal. Someone with the power to defend against the gods, but not the power to be one.”

Guthix cringed, clutching his chest as he groaned, “Ah… it is... the pain is becoming stronger. Please, follow me into me house… my home…”

The two walked inside the remnants of Guthix’s house. From what was left of the structure, it looked like something that, before being destroyed, was a lovely piece of architecture, strong but… cosy, almost. It… had an aura about, a warmth that Jahaan let pass over him. The house would have been big enough for a family. For Guthix’s family.

Now, there was only one bed left inside, and that was comprised of nothing more than a somewhat flat stone tablet.

Doubling over, Guthix clutched onto the wall for balance, a desperate attempt to remain standing. “I have... so little time. Please, listen carefully, Jahaan. I have already shared my power with you, chosen you as one of my creatures, so that you may reach this point. When this is over, you will find yourself with even more power. Power you may use to defend against gods. You must be a guardian of this world, Jahaan. Gielinor must be free.”

To see Guthix in such a weary state, to see what his world had become, and how it shaped him into the being he was known to be on Gielinor, Jahaan was on the edge of tears. He was not above admitting his emotions when such emotions were justified. Sniffing them back, he vowed, “I’ll do as you ask. I’ll use your powers to protect Gielinor from the gods.”

The smile Guthix managed was so weak, so frail. He edged over towards his bed and crawled on top of it. “I am glad to have found such a noble mortal as you, Jahaan. My blessing is with you.”

He closed his eyes, one final time. “It is over. My family waits for me. Remember... your purpose, Jahaan... and please… forget me.”

When Jahaan opened his eyes again, he was standing in the cavern, on the edge, looking down at the lifeless form of Guthix. It was so silent. The tears he had been holding back on Naragun released themselves here.

Numbly, he walked back through the tunnels, back out into the main chamber, where he found the fighting had continued in his absence. He didn’t even know how much time had passed; Guthix mentioned something about slowing the passage of time, but not to what extent.

What was evident were the casualties in his absence. Juna was lying motionless on the floor, with druids tending to her. From all sides of the battle, people had fallen.

His return to the main room caught the eye of Azzanadra. “Jahaan, what happened in there?”

Now, more and more people stopped their fighting to turn to him. The grave atmosphere was answer enough, but they all waited on baited breath, praying for their desired outcome.

Taking a deep breath, Jahaan looked among the faces of the crowd before announcing, “Guthix is dead.”

The chamber descended into silence, before some of the Guthixians broke out into quiet sobs and disbelieving whispers.

Even the Mahjarrat looked suitably shocked. Only the Saradominists had the nerve to look gleeful.

"I... I did this,” Jahaan continued, his voice wavering. “The man I brought with me, Orlando, was actually the Mahjarrat Sliske in disguise..."

Many of the gathered gasped, turning threatening eyes over to Azzanadra, who for his part looked just as horrified. “This… this was not our intention, you must believe me. He gave me his word. He...”

“To believe a snake?” Chaeldar spat. “We would be imbeciles!”

Kaqemeex put an reassuring hand on Jahaan’s shoulder. "You are not to blame, Jahaan. None of us saw through his deception. We share the blame."

The Valluta shook her head, her mouth held agape. "Guthix would not have let a peon like Sliske destroy him, surely?" 

Jahaan sighed at the memory. "It was his will. He said he knew what was to happen, and he accepted it."

"B-But why? Why would he leave us?"

Death cut in, "We could discuss this all night, but there is no point. Guthix is dead. His edicts are broken. That means the gods can return to Gielinor."

In a beat, it hit them all, with Thaerisk voicing the unspeakable, "The wars could begin again..." 

Suddenly, the ground started shake, knocking crumbling fragments from the wall out of their places and onto the ground, making rubble out of them.

“What’s happening?” Chaeldar cried, hovering higher to try and see the cause of the disruption. “Another Zarosian trick?”

Trying to maintain his footing, Azzanadra desperately protested, “This is not of our doing!”

Then, in a brilliant flash of blue light, a figure emerged. His skin was pale blue, covered by a flowing blue robe and gold armour. A gold and diamond two-tiered crown sat atop his head, and on his chest plate was printed the symbol of his religion - a four-pointed star.

He turned to Azzanadra and his small band of followers. “This is no place for battle. Go back to your hiding places.”

With a snap of his fingers, he teleported the trio away.

Instantly, Commander Zilyana fell to her knees in a deep bow. "Saradomin, my lord! You have returned! Look, our rival Guthix-"

"Silence, Zilyana,” his voice was booming, demanding obedience. “It is not right to revel in bloodshed. What has been done could not have been helped. Guthix was not an evil god. Like myself, he yearned to make the world a better place for those who dwell upon it. But his notion of balance was flawed, and his presence meant that I could not return. It was not an easy decision, but Guthix had to die. But, Zilyana, that does not mean we should gloat over the events here."

Rising to her feet, Zilyana bowed her head once more. "I apologise, my lord."

Saradomin turned to Jahaan, his demeanor that of someone who believes he rules over all be surveys, the superiority only a god can lay claim to. "So, human, you were alone with Guthix in his last breaths. Tell me, do you know who I am?"

Jahaan's initial response was to be measured - after all, he was in the presence of yet another god. But when he saw that familiar symbol emblazoned on Saradomin's chest, he instead saw red. 

"You were there, weren't you?" 

"Pardon?" 

"On Naragun," Jahaan pressed, his voice a blade. "You were there, in the wars. You tore Guthix's homeland apart." 

Saradomin sighed, almost in annoyance. It only made Jahaan angrier. "That was many centuries ago. You only have half the story, mortal." 

Jahaan knew how Saradomin came to Gielinor, knew his large, destructive role in the God Wars of the Third Age. His opinion of the deity wasn't anything special, but after seeing how he'd tried this act on world's before Gielinor infuriated Jahaan. "Oh, and what's the other half? You just wanted to bring peace and order to Naragun? The world was doing fine without you, just like Gielinor was." 

"Hmph. I see Guthix has been infesting your mind with many tales. No matter. I'm sure we will get to talk again in the future, and I do hope I will get to share my side of the story with you. Right now, however, is not the time, nor the place. Much has happened here today. With the edicts broken, the world will soon enter a new age. More gods will be coming... I apologise, human. I do hope we meet again, but for now I must ask you to leave. I have much to do here."

Saradomin attempted to teleport Jahaan away, just like he did the Zarosians, but the spell only knocked Jahaan a few steps backwards, like he'd been shoved. The deity crinkled his brow. "Interesting... you shouldn't be able to resist my power." 

Jahaan flashed a challenging grin, laced with fury. He made sure to pronounce every single word carefully when he explained, "I can resist, because before he died, Guthix imparted some of his power to me. Power to guard the world from the gods that wish to control it. Gods like you, Saradomin." 

Saradomin regarded the human before him with a reserved glare. "Impressive... Guthix must have seen something special in you. Or he was that desperate. Who knows? Consider your choices, human. Guthix may have presented you with the world as he sees it, but that is not the only view. There are other more worthy paths. No one should wish for another war of the gods, but sometimes violence is necessary before we can achieve a greater peace. It would be wise to ensure you are on the right side when that violence begins. I will leave you now to think on that. I'm sure we'll meet again... World Guardian."

Saradomin teleported away, and Jahaan dropped to his knees, his swords clattering to the ground. He fought desperately for breath, to regain composure, but it was an uphill battle. The confrontation with Saradomin, coupled with the trip through the memories of Guthix, had drained Jahaan both physically and mentally.

“So this is it, then,” the words caught in Fiara’s throat. “Guthix is dead.”

“We have little time to mourn,” Death replied. “Saradomin has returned.”

“You are right. We must act quickly if we are to mount a defence, to protect ourselves,” the Valluta stated firmly. She turned to Kaqemeex and the druids surrounding him, asking, “Juna… will she live?”

Kaqemeex sighed, heavily. “She sustained a large gash in the battle. I have administered all I can for now. She’s alive. Whether she regains consciousness is another matter.”

Chaeldar rubbed the tears at her eyes, angrily. “I’m going to make Sliske pay for this.”

“You aren’t the only one who wants to make Sliske suffer,” Jahaan asserted. “Right now though, we need to think of the bigger picture. The gods are coming back. We need to focus on doing what we can to minimise their damage.”

“And what can we alone hope to do?” Fiara’s tone was one of defeat.

Sighing, Jahaan replied, “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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