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honeyhotteoks · 2 years ago

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this night together - chapter one (j.yh + s.mg)

chapter one: a safe place to land

summary: you're finally getting your dream job, working with some of the best dancers in the business, but a job change means a break in your healthcare coverage and suppressants these days are expensive. going into heat at the studio pretty much seems like the worst case scenario, but you find yourself in the care of two alphas who won't let you go through it alone. note: reader and the boys are not idols in this fic, but instead are part of the bb trippin dance crew. the idol group mentioned in the fic's name is 'new world' which was one of the early options for ateez's name, and i just thought that was cute. overall though, i know very little about dancing and choreography. i did my best to research what that field might be like, but please know there are likely inaccuracies. also.... i have no idea how healthcare coverage with jobs work in korea and my research wasn't too helpful. we're going with what i know which is often a ninety day waiting period before you get health coverage at a new job, which means reader here cannot afford her medication out of pocket. go with it, for me ♡

warnings: just.... so much smut including: heat, nesting, knotting, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, big dick yunho, implied breeding kink (it's omegaverse so ya know), gratuitous praise to make reader feel better, lots of pet names, lots of heat symptoms like cramps, slick, and insatiable horniness.

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader

genre: smut, abo/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 13.6K

next chapter | AO3

The first sign is the headache, a low, dull throb at the back of your skull. It’s not a full-blown migraine yet, but it might become one and that’s your first indication that your heat is close. You’ve done your suppressant rationing and your bargaining and your plotting and planning, but in the end it’s going to come down to luck if you can make it through the recording.

You had asked the company about their heat leave policy in the most casual way that you could, still new enough to KQ that it seemed natural for an omega to be asking. You don’t know why you were surprised, but as always the policy is disappointing. Full health coverage only after ninety days of employment, and until then not only are your suppressants not covered any heat leave is fully unpaid.

You had studied your cycle calendar in detail and tried to map out the dates, but no matter how you drew it or cut up the last of your suppressants to try and extend the effects, your heat was going to fall on or around your first real performance. And it’s not like you’re an idol, it’s not like the camera will be focused on you, but the idea of letting your new crew down two months into being here is too fucked a thought to entertain.

Your throat feels dry after the first run through of the routine, unnaturally so, a tight cough building in the back of your throat as you try to hold it together. The minute the music fades you’re falling out of formation before anyone else and covering your mouth with your elbow, coughing dryly into your sleeve.

“You good?” San asks from his place next to you.

“Mhm,” You nod tightly, but the cough is lodged in your throat, “I just need to,”

A bottle of water is pushed into your hand and you nod in thanks, unscrewing the cap fast and knocking it back, letting the cold water soothe your throat.

“Are you sick, y/n?” San crosses his arms to appraise you better, ducking his head and getting a good look at you.

“No, no,” You take a deep breath now that you can and shake your head, “just dry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to slow us down.”

“Let’s take five,” Yunho announces from the front.

You take another sip of water and the group starts to break apart. The cool bottle keeps you grounded and as far from anxiety as you can possibly get with the knowledge of this hanging over you.

“You good?” Yujin, one of the few other female BB Trippin dancers, asks, her chest heaving as she jogs up to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” You assure her, “I just need a minute,”

She squeezes your shoulder before moving past you, and you lean back against the wall nearby before taking a deep breath. Your eyes go unfocused towards the mirror as you collect yourself, drinking more water and hoping that no one’s upset with the delay. You’re still new here, but so far you’ve been accepted into the fold well, only a few of the dancers more aloof, so focused on the work you haven’t had a chance to try and make friends. You hope they aren’t upset at your sudden need for a break right on the first run through on the big day. You feel hot eyes on you, and you focus, catching Minseok in the mirror. He’s always pleasant and polite, but never overly friendly, and when you catch his gaze momentarily you see that his jaw is tight and his throat jumps like a spasm as he swallows and averts his eyes from yours.

Your brow knits in confusion, but Yunho appearing next to you breaks the brief moment of concentration and you turn towards him.

His eyes are soft, but his face is still serious and wired into work, “You sure you’re good?”

“Definitely,” You protest, “really,”

He chews the inside of his lip for a moment before adjusting the cap on his head and holding out a little bottle of pills, “Your head?”

“How did you know?” You thought you were good at concealing it.

“You keep wincing when I put the high lights on,” He nods up towards the fluorescents, “migraine?”

“A little one,” You assure him, you know he’s got to be worried about you dropping out of formation right before recording, “but I got this,”

As the lead choreographer and director of today’s stage performance, he’s been on edge this week. He’s so incredibly focused on the finer details down to every precise placement, finger extension, facial expression. You’ve been a dancer for a long time, and you’ve worked behind idol groups before, but not like this. The atmosphere here is different, and working with New World doesn’t feel like backup dancing at all. And for Yunho, it’s become clear to you over the past couple of months that while he isn’t the boss, he is the leader here and he takes that responsibility incredibly personally.

But despite all that pressure and responsibility, he surprises you when he smiles at your admission, “I get them sometimes. Do you get auras?”

You shake your head.

“I do,” He offers you the bottle again, “it sucks, but you know, the light sensitivity is always the worst thing,”

You take the bottle and tip the migraine medication out into your palm, “Yeah,”

“Are you sure you don’t need to tap out?” He offers, voice a little softer so that it’s a conversation just between you, “I know you don’t want to, but I can’t have you falling on stage,”

“No, honestly, I wouldn’t put the team in that position,” You look up, trying your best to convey with your eyes that you can make it, even though the low throb in your skull says otherwise.

“Okay,” He nods once, “I just had to ask. Are you ready?”

“Ready,”

“Alright,” He takes a step away and moves back towards the main part of the room. This time he doesn’t adjust the lights, he keeps the room low lit and calm and he claps as he turns back to the room at large, “Let’s run it again. We have an hour before the van gets here, and then from there it’s go time. We ready?”

A chorus of yes echoes back, and you lend your voice to the mix, shaking off the pounding in your brain. You can do this. You can. Wooyoung punches your arm softly as he walks by you to get to his starting position, flashing you a smile and an encouraging nod. With a deep exhale you let it go, and you get to work.

By the time you finish the third run through, your muscles are screaming, but you’ve managed to hold the rest tightly in. The migration medication seems to be helping, and though you can sense Yunho continuing to glance at you in the mirror he seems pleased that you’re keeping up. You just need to make it through this day, and then you can let it all fall apart.

With a glance at your watch, the hour now up, you realize just how much more time there is to get through. It’s only six in the morning, the earliest you’ve had to get up and be ready for this job yet. You’ve been told that if you’re ever a supporting dancer for a comeback stage it will be even earlier, two or three to accommodate pre-recording time. For this though, you’re not filming a comeback stage. You’ll get to the studios alongside New World at around seven-thirty, spend at least an hour or two getting ready in the green room, and then from there it will be a waiting game, and you don’t really know how a show like this will go. Music shows are a well oiled machine of time management, but this type of larger long program for their survival show stage is something you just aren’t used to.

You just have to, without question, make it back home, but that might be eight hours from now or twelve, and that level of uncertainty makes your stomach churn.

On the bus you take stock. Sore muscles, dry throat, ever so slight cramping in your back, bubbling migraine, fatigue. You’re not yet feeling the waves of hot flashing blush or deep, burgeoning cramps, but it’s not too far off. It feels like at the very least the quarter suppressant you choked down this morning might be doing just enough to mask the scent of your pre-heat, and that’s the best you can do. At least for now, no one’s noticed how close you are to the edge. No one, except possibly Wooyoung.

“Here,” He says from his seat next to you, offering you a lozenge from a bag, “for your throat,”

You stare for a second at the offering before your brain fires and you accept one with quiet thanks. Omegas often keep cooling lozenges around for their heat and pre-heat, something to take the edge off the soreness and dryness and it doesn’t surprise you that the only one attuned to your slight discomfort is another omega.

“You can keep the bag,” He places it on your lap, “if you need it,”

“I’m good,” You pass it back, not wanting to admit how close you really are, “like I said, just dry,”

“Okay,” He nods, and then he lets the subject lie, “are you ready for today?”

“Yeah,” You swallow tightly, “nervous, but yeah,”

“Mm,” He grins, relaxing back into his seat, “it’s fun, I promise,”

“Yeah?”

“When you see it all come together on the monitors,” He nods, “it just makes it all worth it,”

“All the work, you mean?” You can’t help but glance up the length of the bus, to where Yunho sits alongside San and Mingi, all talking quietly and seriously amongst themselves.

“Yeah,” He nods, “you’ve been working a lot of nights too, catching up,”

“I just don’t want me being new to be the reason it’s not perfect,” You reply with ease.

“That’s good,” Wooyoung says, “and I promise if you weren’t nailing it, you’d know by now.”

“Would I?”

“You wouldn’t be sitting here,” Wooyoung nods towards the front, “Mingi would have cut you ages ago,”

“Mingi?” He’s been nothing but nice, flirty, and funny. He’d been helping you out at night to get better, you thought so that Yunho and San didn’t have an inkling that you’re behind.

“His opinion is the one that matters,” Wooyoung laughs, whispering to you so the rest of the bus can’t hear, “have you not picked up on that yet?”

You shake your head slowly.

“y/n,” Wooyoung smiles as he realizes just how clueless you are, “Yunho would recommend we all stop drinking water if Mingi said it was a good idea. Mingi trusts his gut, and Yunho trusts Mingi,”

“Oh,” You breathe.

“Yep,”

“What about Jaemin?” You ask softly. You’ve only met the actual crew leader a few times here and there, but most of the time he’s not at the studio itself.

“He keeps the work coming and the doors open,” Wooyoung says, “but they keep us moving.”

You let his words sink in, the reality that for weeks you’ve been working side by side with Mingi and confessing all your fears of inadequacy, that he was the person who had to approve of you all along and you never knew it. You sigh, “Are you just trying to hype me up, or are you being serious?”

“I don’t lie.” He says, full stop, no room for misinterpretation.

The menthol lozenge burns a little on your tongue, but soothes the cut feeling in the back of your throat when you swallow and you find that finally for the first time all night you’re able to really exhale. With a soft nod you turn to him, “Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Let’s fucking do this,”

He grins, “After this stage you’re officially one of us, you know,”

Your eyes narrow, “You said that after my first week,”

He rolls his eyes, “Okay, maybe I lie a little,”

For the afternoon, with the lightness of Wooyoung by your side, you forget about your headache. The day happens fast, even with all the sitting and waiting in green rooms. There’s so much to remember, from camera positions to where the light is coming from, to how to adapt to the stage floor being just a little smaller than what you were working with back at KQ. The members seem suddenly focused in a way you’ve never experienced, you know what this means to them. To all of you. By the time it’s filming, you’ve had at least six lozenges and taken two more painkillers for your migraine to keep it at bay, and you're starting to feel exhausted. You film it twice, from two angles. Wide for choreography and tighter close ups on the members for cinematic facial expressions and intricacies of movement.

When it’s all over and you pile back into the van, your legs feel heavy and disconnected. If you can just make it back to the studio, you can change and call an Uber and get inside before it knocks you sideways.

Someone suggests drinks, someone else suggests a celebratory meal.

You want nothing more than for the van to speed up.

You grip your hand tight and breathe through the tight sensations in your body and no one ever notices a thing, not even Wooyoung who seems caught in the euphoria of the performance, your quietness blissfully overlooked for the moment.

At the studio, it takes time for the locker room to clear out after the show, everyone else riding on the high of the performance too and slow to pack up for the night. It had gone so well, despite the way you had to push through the pain. As the pain worsens, you’re not sure how you’re going to get home, but you know you need to figure it out soon. You can maybe call one of your roommates, but on a Friday night it feels unlikely that they’ll be available or sober enough to get you.

A cramp ripples through you, and you grip down on the wooden bench, your leg bouncing to try and distract you from the waves of sensation washing over you. It’s been years since your last heat, and you can already tell this is going to be hard and heady. Sweat is collecting on your brow, waves of uncomfortable warmth passing through your body, and you can feel the way your breath is tightening. You really don’t have long, a matter of hours maybe, but it’s obvious to anyone who looks at you what’s going on.

You fish your phone out of your bag and scan through your contacts, blinking hard to try and clear your blurring vision. The phone keeps ringing, first one of your roommates, then another, and when you hit their voicemail boxes for the second time, your phone slips from your fingers in frustration. Tears prick the back of your eyes, your hands shaking. You really thought you had more time.

A noise across the locker room startles you, the heavy metal clang of a locker closing and you realize someone’s still in here with you. You’re trembling, a mix of abject panic and pain, your omega surfacing inside you in a way that you can’t control. Footsteps come closer, and though you’re still shielded by a row of lockers and can’t see him, you can smell him. Rich, cocoa and cinnamon.

Mingi walks past your section of lockers, and you hope he won’t notice, but you’re never, ever that lucky.

“Hey,” He says when he catches sight of you, “you did good tonight,”

You keep your eyes away from his, curling down further to tug at the laces of your shoes and hope that he doesn’t notice the way you’re clenching your jaw to keep from crying, “Thanks,”

“Yeah,” He says, and you hear his steps shift and then pause.

Your eyes press closed as you hide behind the curtain of your hair.

“y/n,” Mingi asks, “are you okay?”

“Mhm,” You pull your laces tight, your insides cramping painfully as your body registers the presence of an alpha.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek you steady your voice, “Yeah, I’m good, just tired.”

Mingi doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, and there’s really only so long you can pretend to tie your shoes. You tug your other laces taut and then do your best, leaning back up into a normal sitting position despite the pained pressure inside you. You grip down on the bench again and breathe slowly through your nose.

“Are you hurt?” Mingi asks, concern evident in his voice, “Did you pull something?”

You shake your head, you can’t trust your words.

“Something’s wrong,” Mingi takes a step forward and you jolt back, sliding off the edge of the bench with a tight sound, your back connecting hard with the lockers behind you. His eyes widen at your sudden movement and you hold a hand out to keep him right where is.

“Stop,” You plead, body shaking, “don’t,”

“You are hurt,” He can feel your fear, and his eyes are panicked as he scans your body, “what happened?”

“It’s not,” You sigh, shaking your head, another hot flash making your cheeks light up with blush and cutting your words.

When he takes another step forwards you watch his face change, the way his breathing settles low into his chest as he regards you and comprehension starts to relax his face. Your eyes press closed as another cramp ripples through your abdomen, and suddenly you feel the first rush of slick.

“Fuck,” Mingi says, “what are you doing here?”

“Working,” You groan, opening your eyes again.

“You should be on heat leave,” He shakes his head, “you should be home,”

“I know,” You nod, your throat growing tight and tears bubbling back up, “I-I asked, but it would have been unpaid, and with the performance… I couldn’t afford to not be here. I thought I had a little more time,”

“Okay,” He steps a little closer and you shake your head, pressing your body back further against the lockers as if that will do anything, “it’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know that,” You laugh humorlessly, “but right now your scent is making this harder,”

“Oh,” He swallows hard, “I didn’t mean to,”

“Mingi,” You meet his gaze and his eyes soften, “I need help,” You wish you didn’t have to ask. You wish you had just stayed home, not rationed your suppressants, and just handled this on your own.

He nods, straightening up and swallowing hard, “Okay, let’s go,”

“Go?” You watch as he picks up your bag and slings it over his shoulder with his own.

“Can you walk?” He holds a hand out to you, an offering and nothing more if you want it.

“Yeah,” You stammer, pushing yourself off the lockers, but one step already has you shaky and you grip his hand and let him hold your weight to keep you standing.

“Alright,” He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, just hold your breath or something,”

His arm wraps around your back, pulling you up and supporting your weight with a sure hand on your forearm and with his help, you take a step. His scent is dizzying, equal parts calming and arousing, and tears roll down your cheeks as you try to keep quiet and hold it together. Slick pools between your thighs and you’re sure he can smell it, but he’s doing a good job of saying nothing about it to you.

“W-where are we going?” You manage as he pushes the door to the locker room open and steers you out into the dimly lit hallway of the dance studio.

“We need to get Yunho,” He says with ease, like it’s obvious and poses absolutely no problem.

At the thought of him, your body clenches and you bite down to keep a tight, pained sound inside. “No, Mingi, he can’t,”

“We’re past that point,” Mingi is all but dragging you now, “I need his help, I can’t get you home by myself.”

Yunho’s the only one with a car between them, not the mention a driver’s license. Mingi typically hitches a ride with him or using the subway, and at this stage in your heat, it’s not safe to take public transportation or put you in a taxi. There are too many variables, too many people you don’t know, and you need someone you trust to get you to a safe location to ride this out. The idea of Yunho tears your body in two, caught between the feeling of wanting him and never wanting him to know about this, but you know he’s safe, that safe place.

There’s a light still on in the office at the end of the hall where you know Yunho is going through footage from the day and making notes while things are still fresh in his mind. When you’re close enough to the door but still safely in the hall, Mingi calls out, “Yunho!”

“Yeah?” He shouts back, and you can hear the distraction in his voice, a clear picture of him writing something down as he calls over his shoulder.

“I need your help,” Mingi adjusts his grip on you, holding you close as your body trembles in his arms, “like right now,”

“Uh,” Yunho trails off, “yeah, okay, yeah, I’m coming.” You hear Yunho jump up from the chair in the office, his quick footsteps, and another wave of fear flutters through you.

“Mingi,” You grip down on his hand.

“Right, fuck,” He remembers himself, tucking you closer to his chest, “slowly,”

“What?” Yunho’s voice comes from the office but you can see his shadow on the floor in the hall as he gets closer to the door.

“Yunho!” Mingi’s voice is deep, clear and firm and you let your head rock back on his shoulder, “Slowly, seriously,”

He’s not distracted anymore, he’s incredibly alert. Yunho steps into the hallway slowly, just as directed when he hears the tenor of his best friend’s voice, and it takes him seconds to size up what’s going on.

“y/n,” He takes a half step forward and stops himself, arm outstretched, “oh no,”

His soft tone soothes you instantly but it doesn't help the emotional live wire you feel like you’re walking, and a little sob bubbles out of you, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,”

“You’re in heat,” He says, shaking his head, “it’s not safe for you to be here, why are you here?”

Your omega shrinks and more tears spill over, the wave uncontrollable now, “I’m sorry, please,”

Yunho’s eyes flick to Mingi’s before he comes closer, reaching out for you, “I’m not upset,”

Relief washes through you, “You’re not?”

“No,” He assures you, his voice dropping to a warm and even tone, “I’m just worried about you, I want you safe. Come here,”

You comply instantly, stepping out of Mingi’s hold and straight into Yunho’s arms, letting him tuck you close into his chest before he adjusts his stance and brings your face up to the crook of his neck. His scent washes over you like a salve, nothing but warm rain and fresh cut cedar.

“Shh,” He soothes you, running a hand down your back, “there we go, take a deep breath,”

For a minute, it feels like your cramps have passed, your head clearing. He grounds you and brings you back into your body with his touch and you breathe low and slow, your hands gripping his shirt.

“Okay,” Yunho murmurs, “what’s your heat plan? We can take you and get you there safe,”

You shake your head into his neck, nuzzling closer to his skin, “I don’t really have one,”

“What do you mean?” He asks, clearly not understanding.

“You can take me home,” You tell him, eyes drifting closed, “I usually can take care of things myself,”

“That’s insane,” Mingi says from behind you both, and you feel Yunho’s hands tighten on your back.

“Who’s there with you?” Yunho asks, “Don’t you have roommates?”

You nod, resting on his shoulder, “Mhm,”

“y/n,” He prompts you, “what are their designations?”

“Mm,” You’re feeling so warm wrapped in his scent, “Ari and Hyejin are betas, Hyunwoo is an alpha but he’s probably out tonight,”

“Tonight,” Yunho shakes his head, “you go through heats like this with an alpha home?”

“Not like this,” You mumble into his chest and he shifts you in his arms.

“What did you say?”

“Not a heat like this,” You manage, “I’m normally on pretty heavy suppressants,”

“She can’t go home like this,” Mingi says, “this is still just pre-heat,”

“I think so,” Yunho’s voice sounds far away, and you sink into the steady sound of his heart and the feeling of his hand smoothing a comforting line up and down your back. When he finally speaks again, his voice is so tender you almost don’t recognize it, “Can we bring you home? Let me help, you can’t go through a heat this hard by yourself,”

“Yunho,” You shudder against him, “we can’t,”

The thought of his cock inside you flashes through your brain, and you imagine the feeling of his swollen knot locking in, your body full and sated and the cramps dissipating. Your core throbs at the idea and you feel another rush of slick rush through you.

“You’re in pain,” He murmurs, dropping his head a little lower, “you need an alpha. Let me take care of you, let me take you home,”

You should say no, you should take your chances in your apartment with your box of toys and a bottle of lube, but you keep breathing in his steady scent and all you can do is say yes. Yunho’s been kind to you since the beginning, taking care of you for weeks even if he didn’t really know it, and he can take care of you now too if you just let him.

“We’ll take care of you,” Mingi cuts in, offering his help softly, “and make sure you’re safe until it’s over,”

“Are you sure?” You pull back from Yunho’s neck, leaning heavily on his chest still.

He cups your cheek in his broad hand, bringing your eyes up to his, and nods, “Positive, and if you don’t,” he swallows hard tries to find the right words, “if you don’t want to have sex we can figure something out, but you need a place that’s private, and you need to be with more experienced alphas who know how to keep their hands to themselves.”

They’re not wrong. You just have to trust them. You just have to let go.

Your body makes the decision for you, the way your aching and throbbing is soothed just being between them, and you let your mind follow.

“Okay,” You sigh, leaning into his hand, “yes,”

“Alright,” He sighs, “don’t worry about a thing, okay? We’ll get you home.” Yunho’s thumb rubs a soothing pattern into the soft gland at your wrist and it relaxes you further. He looks over you for a moment, “Mingi, I need you to take her for a minute, I’ll get the car.”

When Yunho steps away, just to try and pass you back to Mingi, the lack of contact strikes panic through you and you shake your head, “No, no, don’t go,”

“It’s not for long,” He assures you, his hands sliding down your arms as he separates from you slowly, “I’ll be back in 5 minutes,”

A panicked whine leaves your throat and your mind spins, “Don’t leave me!”

“Hey,” He soothes you but you don’t respond, all you know is he’s leaving and you’ll be without him and the thought makes your body clench. “y/n, hey, y/n,” He tries again but you’re shaking your head. “Omega.” His voice roots you to the spot.

Mingi’s hands close over you gingerly from behind, and Yunho nods as your panicked noises stop, “Okay, see?” He says, “Listen to me, omega, I’m not going far. You won’t be alone, Mingi’s right here. I’ll be back in five minutes, and then I won’t leave you again, okay?”

“Okay,” You lean back into Mingi, and let his touch keep you warm.

Yunho nods and then keeps his eyes on you as he moves back to the office, darting out of your eye line for a moment. You can hear him grabbing his things; the zip of his bag, the jingle of his keys, and the lights flick off before he jogs back out.

“Here,” He says, holding out his jacket, “put this on,”

Mingi takes it from his hands, and eases it onto you. When you pull the jacket up, his scent washes over you again and you sigh.

“Better?” Yunho asks.

“Mhm,” You murmur, and tucked into the warmth of Mingi’s chest with their combined scents easing you, you can breathe. You keep your eyes closed, but you hear when Yunho walks out the front door and your body clenches a little, but you take a deep breath in.

“Mingi,” You finally say, looking up at him, “thank you for not leaving me,”

“Hey,” He shakes his head, “I was never going to leave you there,”

You nod, twisting in his arms so you can tuck your face into his chest and let his arms wrap fully around you, “I’m sorry,” you sigh, “I’m not usually such a touchy person,”

He chuckles, smoothing your hair with his hand, “It’s okay, I like it,”

“And Yunho?”

“Oh,” Mingi laughs, “he’s a cuddler, don’t worry.”

Your stomach cramps and you groan into his chest, “God,” you grip him, “I forgot how much this hurts,”

“How long has it been?” Mingi shifts his grip so that more of your weight is supported, “You know, since your last real heat?”

“Years,” You tell him honestly, “they’ve been so much easier on suppressants,”

“Mm,” Mingi nods above you, “when this hits it’s going to be intense,”

“Have you helped a partner through heat before?”

“I have,” Mingi says, “but Yunho hasn’t,”

“Oh,” You have no idea why Yunho offered himself up immediately like he had done it a thousand times before if he’s never shared a heat with someone. The sure, practiced tenor of his voice when he called you omega rings in your ears.

“Don’t worry,” Mingi assures you, “I know what I’m doing, and Yunho’s got a handle on himself. He won’t touch you if you don’t want him to,”

“I’m really, really not worried about that,” You sigh.

“Good,” Mingi’s phone starts to vibrate in his pocket, and he adjusts his arms around you so he can find it, “We’ll take care of you - Hey? Are you out front?”

You can’t hear Yunho’s side of the conversation but you just wait, held against him.

“Okay, I got her,” Mingi says, and you smile.

You forgot the way that heat takes over every physical sensation, every little thing heightened until you feel like you’re on a razor’s edge. In a matter of hours you’re going to be a writhing mess, in so much pain you might be delirious - you might ask anything of them, beg for anything. You have to reconcile with your shame now, and let them help. After weeks of dancing around Yunho, what you really want is to ask him out for coffee, not this. Mingi is no stranger to being flirtatious, those sparks between you already evident, but it always felt like a little inside joke between friends, not a step towards anything more.

“Alright, just a little further,” Mingi urges you as he slips his arm under yours.

It takes time to get to the car, but when you get there, Mingi slides into the backseat with you instead of taking the front with Yunho like he normally would. Enclosed in the warmth of the car, you relax into Mingi’s arms and find Yunho’s eyes studying you in the rearview mirror. Their scents settle you a bit, more than any other alpha’s ever has.

“I’m okay,” You assure them, “it’s coming and going,”

“We don’t live too far,” Yunho smiles, “so just try to relax and we’ll be inside soon, okay?”

“Yeah,”

Mingi eases you against him, feeling your exhaustion, until you’re nestled in his lap with his fingers softly carding through your hair. Yunho’s eyes flick back to you again and again as he drives, but for the first time since the locker room, you’re not in too much pain.

“Yunho,” Mingi murmurs and his friend hums a noise of acknowledgement, “we need to pick up a few things for her,”

“What do you mean?”

“She needs to eat before this really starts,” Mingi says quietly, “I think we have water bottles at home and ice packs?”

“Yeah we do, I went to the store a couple days ago,” Yunho glances back at you again.

“Okay,” Mingi’s fingers keep up their soothing brushes on your scalp, “and we need condoms, in case.”

“Oh,” Yunho blinks and opens his mouth to say something but you get there more quickly.

“We don’t need them,” You twitch as a cramp ripples through you, “I’m on birth control,”

“If it would make you feel more comfortable though,” Mingi offers.

“No,” You groan a little and shift on the uncomfortable back seat, “really, I’m good.”

The car is quiet for a minute, the reality sinking in that they won’t just be keeping you safe tucked away in a room in their apartment, but they will be helping you. Yunho clears his throat, “Then we’re good, let’s get you home and in bed, and then we can order food? Do we have time?”

“Mhm,” You assure him, “I’m okay now that i’m with you both,”

“Exactly,” Mingi soothes you as your fists tighten, eyes closing as you breathe through another small cramp, “your alphas will take good care of you,”

You release a shuddering breath, the word sinking into your chest and keeping you whole.

“Almost there,” He murmurs, “just breathe, omega,”

Getting you upstairs to their apartment proves a little challenging, moving through the lobby of the apartment building and ferrying you into an elevator. They stay close to you, keeping you firmly tucked between them as they walk you in, and you do your very best to seem in control and not draw any unnecessary attention.

The minute their apartment door closes though, your legs give out and Mingi scoops you up, “You did so well,” he assures you, and it’s evident now that he is the one with the experience here, knowing exactly what the primal part of your brain needs to hear.

“I’ll order food,” Yunho says, giving you a small smile.

“Get her some meat,” Mingi directs him, “broth too, and lots of rice,”

“You are good at this,” You sigh.

“We got you,” Mingi grins, acting like this is second nature, “now… I can put you to bed, or would you like a cool shower before you lay down? I know that helps,”

“Mm, yes please,” You nod.

“Alright,” Mingi nods and looks up, “get the food going, and then meet me in my room with some water and the ice packs.”

“Right,” Yunho looks at you, “are you okay with just Mingi?”

“Yeah,” You smile, “I’m feeling okay,”

“Good,” Yunho smiles back and pulls out his phone to order the food, “then I’ll meet you there.”

Mingi sets you up in the bathroom with ease, making sure you have towels and everything you need. Your heat is coming, building inside your body with every cramp and rush of warm blush, but their combined scents keep things calm enough for you to take care of yourself a bit. He asks you to keep the door unlocked in case you need help, and leaves you to your moment of peace. You let the cool water settle your body, taking solace in this dip of your pre-heat before things get worse.

When you’re done, wrapped up in fluffy towels and feeling decidedly less sticky from the combination of sweat and slick, you make your way out into the hall. There are three bedrooms, an empty one you assume is Yunho’s, one that’s been converted into an office, and then one larger room at the end of the hall that you know must be Mingi’s.

He appears in the doorway before you make it too much further and smiles, “Feeling better?”

“Yes, thank you so much,”

“Mhm,” He reaches for you, “come on in, we got everything ready for you,”

His bedroom smells overwhelmingly like cinnamon when you first cross through the door and you feel a tense flutter in your core. His room is tidy, clean and organized well, which feels surprising for Mingi given how chaotic and busy he can seem at times. The bed is made, but the covers are pulled back for you and you see a folded shirt and thin sleep pants at the edge of the bed. Yunho is sitting in a chair in the corner by the foot of the bed and waiting, the dresser adjacent to his side equipped with almost everything you’ll need. Water bottles, pain killers, and ice packs, an unfilled bowl with a few washcloths stacked inside.

“How do you know all this?” You catch Mingi’s eye.

“My girlfriend in college went through terrible heats,” He explains easily, directing you towards the bed, “I remember what used to make her feel a little better,”

“Ah,” That explains so much of him, and his easy reaction to finding you in the locker room.

“Do you need help getting dressed at all?” He asks.

“No, I just really want to lie down,” Your limbs are starting to feel heavy and achy.

“We’ll leave you be then,” Yunho offers, “and when the food gets here we’ll bring some in,”

“Mhm,” You sigh, sinking down onto the bed, “thank you both again, so much,”

When you’re finally alone in Mingi’s room, you start to take stock of your body and how it feels, getting a sense of how far you are from the real thick of your heat. Judging by the intensity of your cramps and the fact that you’re starting to produce slick, you know you’re not too far off, maybe a few hours at most. The onset of your heat is normally much slower than this, a long few days of light pre-heat into a couple of days of uncomfortable cramps and extremely high arousal. On suppressants it feels easy, off them everything is unpredictable.

You pull on the clothes they left you, but they smell like stale lavender, artificial like laundry detergent and it’s not helping. You find the hamper in the corner and toss off the top, digging through Mingi’s clothes until you find a hoodie and you bury your face in it before taking a deep inhale and letting the warm smell of him pass through you. It might be crossing a line, but you don’t really care, you need them.

A pulsing wave passes through you and you collapse back into the bed, tugging on the hoodie and curling yourself up in the covers. The bed smells like him too, and you gather a pillow to your chest and take a deep inhale. Your neediness is starting to build up again with every passing minute, flushing heat through your chest and where you were cold a moment ago you’re suddenly overheated. You kick off the covers, but keep them close, and pile the pillows around you too so you can better inhale his scent.

Slick rushes forwards again and you bite your inner cheek to stifle a moan and keep things in check. You push off the sleep pants they had given you, and fish through your gym bag until you find a clean pair of underwear and some wipes. You clean yourself up a bit, and change your underwear for the third time today, before deciding that there’s no point in putting the pants back on. Mingi’s hoodie falls low over your shorter frame, dragging along your thighs.

You bury yourself back in his bed, and do your best to get a little rest before what’s to come.

When you wake, it’s to Mingi pushing back his hoodie so he can see your face a little better, “Hey,” he murmurs, “how are you feeling?”

“Tired,” You sigh, “and sore,”

“Okay,” He smiles and tugs lightly on the strings of his hoodie, “is this helping?”

“Mm,” You nod into his palm, but nervous knots start to curl up in your belly, “where’s Yunho?”

“I’m here,” Yunho’s voice comes from the opposite side of the bed, and you twist in the sheets to find him, a cramp pulsing through you as you do and you groan, gripping onto the bed sheets beneath you.

“Easy,” Mingi scolds you softly, “you need all the rest you can get,”

Yunho finds your eyes and smiles, “What’s wrong?” He asks gently, noticing your nervous fidgeting.

“I don’t know, I thought you left,” You manage.

“I’m an idiot,” Mingi sighs behind you and his hand that rests on your hip shifts away, “stay with her a second,”

“Mhm,” Yunho’s eyes don’t leave you, and he reaches out to rest his hand on yours, “we’ve got dinner, and then once you eat you can rest, we won’t go anywhere.”

You watch his face as he studies your features, his breathing slow and steady, when you hear Mingi come back into the room behind you. “Here we go,” He says, and you feel a large, soft blanket draping over you. The smell of wet earth and rain in the air fills your senses again and you drag the blanket up and around you with a sigh.

“You’re nesting,” Yunho observes, his mouth dropping open, “of course,”

“She couldn’t smell you in here,” Mingi explains with ease, “she needs you to relax,”

You nod, your cheek pressed against the blanket, “You smell like a thunderstorm,”

Yunho sits slowly on the bed by your side, brushing your hair back behind your ear and smoothing his thumb along your cheekbone, “Is that right?” he smiles.

“I love thunderstorms,” Your eyes drift closed.

Mingi chuckles, “I think she’s found herself a heat partner,”

“Only if she wants one,” Yunho presses, “and only after she eats,”

Your eyes reopen, and you push yourself up to your knees, dropping the hood of Mingi’s sweatshirt and running your hands over your warm cheeks. “We need to talk now,” You blink hard and take a deep breath, “before I get too far into this,”

“Let’s eat then,” Mingi gestures for you to sit back more comfortably and you watch as he and Yunho both produce boxes of take out from bags on the dresser, “what are you thinking?”

“Well,” You shift up the bed to lean against the headboard, dragging Yunho’s blanket with you, “I haven’t gone through this in a while. I’m not sure how it’s going to be, but you said you wanted to help. What did you mean by it?”

Yunho looks like he’s not sure exactly what to say or where to start and Mingi cuts in smoothly, “I’m willing to help with all of it. If you want me gone, I’m gone. If you want help to come to take the edge off, I can do that, and if you want me to actually knot you,” he gestures for you to fill in the blanks.

“Right,”

“But,” Mingi cuts in and your eyes shift back to him, “You seem to want Yunho,”

His eyes flick down to the way you’re rubbing his blanket between your thumb and forefinger and you drop it instantly, not even realizing what you were doing. Mingi smiles softly and adds, “I think you prefer his scent,”

“No!” You exclaim, wincing at the way your body tenses up, “No, it’s not that, at all.”

“Earlier,” Mingi takes a seat on the edge of the bed, “you said my scent was making it harder, that’s not what I want to do for you.”

“Mingi,” You shake your head, “I meant because it’s good, both of you. So, no I don’t have a preference.”

“Oh,” Mingi smiles, and then turns to Yunho, “how are you feeling?”

He clears his throat softly and nods, “The same as you, I’m all in.”

“Okay,” You exhale slowly, “then so am I,”

Mingi passes you a take out container and a pair of chopsticks, “Eat this, okay?”

“Mhm,” You’re caught between exhaustion and adrenaline, but you stay focused on the task at hand. You all eat quietly, the atmosphere a little awkward now that you’ve all agreed.

As you finish the container of food, Yunho smoothly passes you another and he says, “So, you feel comfortable with us?”

“I do,” You nod, shifting a little at a slight pain in your back, “I like you both, and if I can trust you in the studio, I can trust you with this.”

“And if you ask us to knot you?” Mingi prompts.

“Right,” You swallow, resting the container of food on your lap, “I guess there are some things we should say now,”

They look at you, waiting expectantly.

“People say things during heat,” You start, imagining all the things you might beg them for for the next few days to come. “It’s not like I’ll be out of my mind or anything, you know that,” You nod to Mingi.

“Mhm,”

“But it’s still hard to control,” You explain, and Yunho listens intently, “I don’t know what it’ll be like for me. It’s been a long time, but you have my permission to do whatever we need to. If I ask you to knot me, knot me.”

“Okay,” Mingi nods, “it’s good that we’re clear.”

You feel another flush up your chest and you breathe slowly, “But no matter what,” you hold their gazes, “if I ask you to claim me, don’t. Don’t do it, even if I tell you I’m sure.”

“Absolutely not,” Mingi’s brow furrows, and he looks shocked that you’d even have to say it, “there’s no way.”

“I know you know,” You swallow and reach for a water bottle on the nightstand, “but Yunho, you’ve never done this before.”

“That might be true,” He shakes his head, “but I know you wouldn’t mean that, it would just be the heat talking,”

“Exactly,” You nod, “I might sound like I want that or like I need that, but I don’t.”

“Understood,” Yunho nods, “I wouldn’t, I swear,”

You sink back into your pillows and tuck back into your box of food, “I just want you to be prepared,” you explain, “and before I start crying and begging you to give me a pup, I wanted to say it,”

Mingi laughs into his food, choking a little, “Sorry, no, not funny,”

You smile, the mood a little lighter now, “It’s kind of funny.”

Yunho smiles, shifting further onto the bed as he all but inhales his noodles, “You seem a better, I thought it was going to just get worse,”

“Oh, it will,” You shrug, “but the food is nice, and you’re both here with me. When Mingi found me I was scared and alone, which always makes it worse,”

Mingi’s hand rubs a comforting line up your shin, “You’re very safe now,”

“I know,” You nod.

“Eat some more,” Yunho notices that you’ve taken too long of a pause, and he gestures for you to keep going, “and then what would be nice? Some sleep?”

“Maybe,” You dip back into your rice, “would you stay?”

“I’ll stay,” Yunho murmurs.

“Me too,” Mingi adds.

They keep on you to eat, making sure you’ve had your fill. Afterwards, you rest between them watching some television, keeping your mind off things as best you can while you’re still feeling somewhat okay. They’re careful of you though, every shift of your body and soft hiss through your teeth drawing their attention. Mingi is still cool and evenly calm, but surprisingly Yunho is too, and you wonder what they talked about while you were in the shower. Did they discuss what to do at all? What the night and the next few days would be like?

You’re so exhausted, slipping further down into the bed, nestled in pillows and wrapped in Yunho’s blanket. They naturally gravitate closer, their hands finding their way to your skin, and you’re not sure if it’s just their alpha nature or if it’s them, but you’ve never been more grateful for it.

The cramps start to become unbearable again soon after they start to hold you. You’re not sure if their presence is making things move more quickly, let alone being with two alphas, but within the hour the pain sets in.

You curl into Mingi’s chest as tight pain cuts through you, “Fuck,” you pant against him, “it hurts,”

“I know,” Mingi soothes you, scooting down the bed until he’s eye to eye with you, “but you’re not alone,”

A sharper, biting pain rips through you and a flood of heat washes over you. You grip down hard on Yunho’s hand, curling into yourself with a taut moan, “It… it hurts,”

“Shh,” Yunho kisses your hair, running his hand up and down the expanse of your abdomen, “I know it hurts, jagiya,”

You whine at the name, desperate to hear him call you anything and everything. Your omega thrums inside you - every touch telling you just how much closer your heat is than you realize. “Please,” You plead, but you don’t know exactly what you’re pleading for, “I can’t breathe,”

“Yes, you can,” Mingi tries to sooth you, his hand on your cheek, “look at me, y/n, come on omega,”

Tears well in your eyes, heat flooding through your veins and a pulsating need fluttering through you. If they don’t touch you, you might wither into nothing. Your hips tuck back into Yunho’s and you groan, “I can’t,”

“She’s burning up,” Yunho murmurs from your side.

“Let’s take this off then,” Mingi tugs on the sleeves of his hoodie slowly, coaxing your arm through. He can see your rising panic at the idea you won't be wrapped in their scents, but he shakes his head slowly, “easy, love, let your alphas help,”

As the heavy sweatshirt is pulled away, you drop back on the bedding between them. The thin t-shirt they gave you is all but soaked through with sweat, sticking to your curves. Your head is aching, waves of feverish heat washing over you again and again, and you whimper, your legs twitching as you try to find a somewhat comfortable position.

“Hey, hey,” Yunho’s thumb settles over the swollen gland in your neck, and he strokes it soft and slow, “just breathe,”

It settles you, just a bit, and you let your eyes drift shut. With a sigh you reach for Mingi just to feel a bit of his skin on yours, “I’m not even properly in heat yet and I feel like I could crawl out of my skin,”

“Hot?” Mingi brushes the damp hair back from your forehead.

“It’s like my skin is tingling,” You murmur, “like a nerve,”

“Okay,” He nods. He shifts off the bed and your eyes flutter open. Mingi soothes you with a gentle hand, before moving towards the dresser, “Yunho, get those clothes off her,”

Yunho’s eyes lock on yours, “Can I?”

You nod, your head feeling full and pained.

Yunho’s hand slips under the edge of your damp shirt, coasting up your stomach as he pushes the fabric up and the drag of his hot hand sends a pulse through your body. You moan, head dropping back into the bedding, and you feel another gush of slick.

“It’s okay,” Yunho soothes as you he drops your shirt to the side of the bed, “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,”

You huff, a light laugh as you shake your head, “Easy for you to say, you’re not falling apart whenever I touch you,”

“Yet,” He smiles.

“Who are you kidding?” Mingi returns to your bedside with a bowl of cool ice water and a damp washcloth. He throws a smile at his friend before ringing out the washcloth over the bowl, “The minute you saw us in the hall you were all alpha protection mode, scenting her and everything,”

“Shut up,”

You grin, but Mingi sweeps a cold line up your body with the cloth and you shudder, “Fuck, that’s nice,”

“Good,” Mingi murmurs, passing another wet washcloth to Yunho. When Mingi presses a firm line up your chest, and sweeping a little too close to your neck your body arches and your nipples harden into painful peaks.

You blush hard and drop a hand over your face, “I can’t believe we’re doing this,”

“Why?” Yunho asks gently, wiping your brow with the cool cloth.

“We work together,” You sigh, “closely together… I probably should have made you take me home or something but,”

“Do knotting dildos even really help?” Mingi asks bluntly.

“I mean,” You shrug, “they get the job done,”

“Hmm,” Mingi shakes his head, “not with a heat like this,”

“Maybe,” You sigh.

“y/n,” Yunho asks, “have you had a heat partner before? Have you been knotted?”

“A long time ago,” You nod, “it wasn’t a great experience, but you know, it is what it is.”

Yunho passes the cloth down your chest and you shudder, but he keeps the conversation going, “Why in the world are you off your suppressants then?”

Your eyes flick down, and you swallow hard, “I can’t afford them right now,”

“Wait,” Mingi shakes his head, “what?”

“The brand I’m on is the only one that works for me,” You explain, “they’re not priced like the generics, and I don’t have coverage yet. I’ve been rationing them out, but,”

“You should have talked to me about it,” Yunho shakes his head, brows knit together in concern, “we could have done something for you,”

“Yunho,” You meet his eyes, “I appreciate that, but I’m still kind of new here. I’m just trying to prove I belong here, and I didn’t want a reason to need a special exception.”

He looks like he wants to say something, but settles on nodding, “I can understand that.”

“I’m,” You tense up as your cramps intensify, “I’m glad to know I can talk to you, I’ll do it in the future, I just couldn’t come to you about this.”

“Alright,” He nods, his voice shifting to soothe again as your eyes clamp tightly shut.

“Are they worse?” Mingi asks.

You can’t answer, not yet, your muscles are locked up in crippling pain and you feel like you’re drowning in a sudden wave of hot air. You gasp as you feel your body produce more slick, your thighs surely sticky now, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of their hands and where they rest on your body.

“I think,” Your hips jerk as Mingi slides the washcloth just an inch up your side, “oh God, I think,”

“Okay,” Yunho pets your hair gently, “okay, just breathe,”

Your fingers tighten in the sheets beneath you and an overwhelming ache between your thighs reminds you just how empty your body is. You press your thighs together, feeling a throb in your core, and you can’t stop the whimper that bubbles from your lips.

“Let’s get these off too,” Mingi murmurs, his hands settling on your hip and tugging at your underwear to slowly peel them off.

Things are spinning around you, tense and painful suddenly and no amount of cool washcloths or gentle touches are going to help you now. Your vision feels blurry, and you curl into yourself, tucking your body into Yunho’s chest with a pained hiss.

“Oh, come here,” Yunho tucks you close, “I’ve got you,”

“Alpha,” You feel like crying suddenly, your stomach tense, “alpha, please,”

“What, jagiya?” Yunho murmurs against your hair.

You can’t explain what you need, all you know is that you can’t feel him close enough and you push the edges of his shirt up to try and find more of him, “Please,” you whine as you try to feel more of his skin on yours.

“Whoa, whoa,” He tries to catch your hands but it just makes you more tense.

“K-knot me,” Your stomach cramps, your cunt feeling swollen and sensitive, “please,”

“y/n,” Yunho tries again to pull your hands away but you drive forwards, pressing your cheek against his bare chest where his shirt is ridden all the way up and you sigh into his skin, pressing frantic kisses along his body.

“Please,” You beg again, “I’ll be so good for you, so good,”

“I know you will,” He manages, but he can’t deter you, and you feel the moment his body responds to yours. His hands tighten pleasantly on your hips, and you hear the change in his breath. He releases your hands and swallows hard, “Alright, alright,”

“No,” Mingi interrupts, “not yet,”

“Why?” You sob.

“You’re not ready yet,” He soothes, shifting closer behind you and placing a warm kiss on your bare back, “and Yunho and I are not going to hurt you tonight,”

“I don’t care,” Your hands slide down Yunho’s chest, searching for his waistband.

“Mingi’s right,” Yunho groans, attempting to disconnect your hands from him.

“Omega,” Mingi’s voice is firm, and your hands fall away, “be still.” You’re sure you’re shaking like a leaf, and he sighs, “You need a little sleep,”

“I can’t sleep like this,” You shake your head, “everything hurts so much,”

“We’ll help with that,” Mingi pulls you away from Yunho’s chest, ignoring your tense whine at being pulled away from him, and slides a hand down your thigh to press your legs open, “we’ll help you sleep,”

Yunho rests his hand on your inner thigh, bending your knee to open you up for Mingi’s hand, “Let your alphas make you feel good,”

You’re shaking in their grip, Yunho’s hand feeling like a lead weight, and Mingi settles down low by your side so that you’re almost nose to nose, holding your gaze as his fingers gently sink into your wet folds.

“P-please,” The sound in your throat is tight, “I need you to fuck me,”

“Mhm,” Mingi nods, unfazed by your sudden shift in demeanor as your heat finally starts to build, “we will, but not yet,”

You stifle a groan and turn your head away from him, tears gathering in your eyes as Mingi’s middle finger flattens out over your clit and starts to rock. All it does is stoke heat inside you and your vision blurs, the empty pocket inside you aching like never before. “Alpha,” You sob, “it’s not enough,”

You expect Mingi to respond, but instead it’s Yunho, cupping your cheek and drawing your face towards his, “Shh,” he shakes his head, a gentle expression on his face, “we have you, sweetheart,”

Something in his face calms you for a moment, the feeling of his warm gaze filling you and you want nothing more than to know he likes you. Approves of you. Your breath is slight, just a whisper in your throat.

Seeing your response he slides forwards, pressing his mouth to yours in a warm, tender kiss. His hand slips down and he brushes over your gland again to keep you at ease, “Be patient for us,” he kisses you again, “and you know we’ll knot you nice and full,”

With a desperate pant you catch his mouth again, moaning against his mouth when Mingi finally, finally sinks a finger deep inside your aching core.

“You’re still so tight, omega,” Mingi murmurs. He pushes a second finger inside and starts to pump them in and out, and it’s not enough, nowhere near enough, but little blooms of pleasure spark up your spine and you fall back from Yunho into the bedding once more.

“More,” You widen your legs and cant your hips, “please, Mingi, please,”

He presses his lips to your forehead, nuzzling you softly until his mouth is close to your ear, “You’re so beautiful, omega. Did you know that?”

A wash of pleasure crashes through you and his fingers speed up, pushing into you more firmly, his thumb catching against your clit to heighten every thrust. You moan against him, gripping hard on his shirt and jutting your hips into his hand.

“And so good for us,” Yunho kisses your shoulder, traveling down until lips close around one of your stiff nipples.

“Ah,” You arch into his mouth, “ah, god,”

“Close already, omega?” Mingi teases, shaking his head despite the smile across his lips, “Are you that sensitive?”

“D-don’t tease me,” Hot pleasure sparks up your body and your head twists back, your body tight and stiff.

“Then come,” Mingi bites down on your earlobe gently and you whine.

“Do as your told,” Yunho urges you, sucking hard on your nipple and pressing your leg open wider, “our sweet little omega,”

You come so hard your brain whites out, your ears ringing and your body trembling. After an entire week of build up to your heat, and hours of feeling like your body was being stretched out long like a rubber band, snapping apart in their hands hits you so much harder than you ever could have imagined.

Your brain reconnects when you feel Yunho’s soft blanket tucked around your naked body, and you’re too exhausted to open your eyes, but you feel them cuddle close before you drop off into sleep drowning in cedar and cinnamon.

You have no idea what time it is when you wake again, your brain is too foggy and pained to even check the time. All you know is desperate need, all consuming emptiness and aching. When you reach out in front of you, the bed is empty and you stifle a sob. You’re alone, they’ve left you alone. You’re alone and you’re in heat, and you thought they wanted you, but all you can feel is shame. The primal part of your brain tells you that you’re not good enough, that if you had been a better omega for them they would have stayed. You’d be good and knotted by now.

Curling into the sheets you try to push yourself up, but find the effort even harder than before. You’re soaked in sweat, trembling uncontrollably, and the throbbing pulse of your cunt is so heady that you find yourself seeking any friction at all, squeezing your thighs tight and grinding against the balled up comforter.

You feel a body roll behind you, shifting closer, and when you hear his groggy, sleepy groan, you almost cry in relief. “A-alpha?” You can’t move too much, too it’s too painful, but you reach back for him.

“Hey,” Yunho’s voice is a little hoarse, and it takes him a minute to realize what’s going on, but in the early morning faded light he watches the way you’re struggling. “Oh,” he breathes, “it’s really started,”

You nod desperately, “I need help, alpha, please,”

“Okay,” His voice drops, and he slides across the bed to slot himself perfectly behind you, “I’m going to take care of you now,”

“Y-Yunho,” You squeeze yourself further back into him, “I’m so empty,”

His face is above yours now, studying your expression to try and determine if this is really it, and you don’t know where Mingi is to guide the situation but at the feeling of Yunho’s body behind yours, your will to care is fading away into nothing. He’s not touching you fast enough, and with a whimper, you twist your head in the sheets, bearing your neck and submitting.

“Oh,” Yunho’s hands tighten on you, “oh,”

“Please,” You press again, “it hurts, alpha,”

His cock stiffens behind you, and you almost cry in relief, rolling your hips back against him. “Fuck,” His face drops against your hair, “oh my god,”

“Inside me,” You beg, reaching back and tugging at his shirt, “now, please,”

He moves so much more quickly this time, pushing down his sweats and reaching between your thighs to check you, finding you soaked with slick and aching for him. You moan when you feel the press of his cockhead against your entrance, and in one fluid motion he slides home, fully seating himself inside you.

You’re shaking in his arms, the feeling of being this full making you almost delirious with joy. Yunho doesn’t move though. He has you pulled as close as possible so that your back is flush with his chest, arms wrapped around you and keeping you perfectly still. His forehead rests against the top of your head and you can hear his shaky breath. You need him to move, to fuck you, to fill you with pups and never leave you, but he doesn’t.

Slowly, his hips draw back just a little before sinking forward again, thrusting inside your tight channel experimentally like he’s trying to get a feel for you. Despite how your body prepared you for this, making you wet and relaxed to be able to accommodate an alpha’s knot, the feeling of his cock stretching you open is almost enough to make you come right then and there.

He thrusts again, slowly, and you whimper against him. You need more, and fast.

Yunho groans as he holds himself deeply inside you again, caressing your body with his free hand, “You are the best thing I’ve felt in my entire life,”

Your brain spins, pleasure flooding you and distantly you can hear yourself asking him to knot you. You’re not prepared for what he’ll feel like fucking you in earnest.

“Is that what my girl needs?” Yunho pants, and hand locking down over your hip to help pull your body back against his hard thrusts.

“God, please!” Your eyes close, falling apart into the sensations of him inside you.

He groans against you, “Tell me what you need, omega,”

The low tenor of his voice is nothing but alpha now, his instincts guiding him just as much as yours. You’re never going to last, not if he’s going to talk to you like this. With a taut moan you beg him, “Fill me up, alpha please, knot me please,”

His hand slides up your chest, up your neck until you’re shaking with need, and closes his fingers on your jaw until he draws your face up so he can watch your eyes. His hips shift their pace, no longer driving into you with frantic need but instead firm, deep thrusts of his cock. His eyes are blown wide with desire, his mouth falling open as he watches you falling apart on his cock, “You’re all fucking mine,”

You nod, hot tears gathering in your eyes from the overwhelming sensation and you cry out desperately for more.

“All mine,” He repeats and surges forwards to lock his lips on yours, “you belong to me,”

“Yes!” You choke, “I’m yours, only yours,”

“Good girl,” He angles his hips, and on the next thrust you’re spinning fast into the crest of your orgasm. With his face pressed against you, his lips at your ear, his next words snap you open. “I’ll give you perfect pups,” He pants, his knot swelling, “I’ll breed you so full,”

There’s nothing now but the feeling of him, all encompassing as your orgasm crashes down over you, muscles spasming around his hard length. You’re a babbling mess, but so is he, so close to coming that the first sensation as your eyes reopen is his knot pressing hard at your opening.

He’s so large already, larger than any partner or knotting dildo you’ve ever used, and you scramble a little in his hold, “Y-Yunho, I can’t,”

“Shh,” He holds you against him, “you can, I know you can,”

Pushing your hips down with his broad hands, he angles himself upwards until you feel the pressure of his knot pushing past your entrance and finally slipping inside you fully. It burns, your body aching to accommodate him, but with the way he’s holding you and the throb of his cock inside you, none of that matters.

He grinds his hips desperately into you, his knot swelling further inside you, and when he comes, releasing hot with a shuddering groan, you finally feel sated. Your body melts into him, pleasantly foggy and at ease, his knot no longer uncomfortable but essential.

You’re finally, finally full.

It takes time for Yunho to come back to his senses, his hands still locked on your skin and breathing shaky as he tries to regulate it. You realize now that you have a little clarity that it was his first time. Deep, instinctual need had guided him, but the longer he stays quiet, the longer you wonder if you did well for him.

After another minute or two you find his hand and lace your fingers together, “Yunho?”

“Yes?” He murmurs from behind you, his forehead still against your hair.

“Can you hold me please?” You murmur, squeezing his hand.

“Come here,” He sighs, shifting slightly to spoon you properly. As he does, the knot locked inside you shifts and you make a startled hum at the sensation. He smooths your hair back and tries to get a good look at you, “Does that hurt?”

“No,” You shake your head, adjusting so that you’re resting on his bicep, “I just feel full,”

“Mm,” He kisses your temple, nuzzling your skin with his nose as he breathes in your scent, “you’re perfect,”

Warmth blooms in your chest, “So are you,”

“I want you like that again and again,” His hand slips out of yours so that he can coast it over your body, feeling your warm skin under his hands.

“You can have me like that again and again,” You smile, “I’ll be in heat for days.”

“Days of this,” He sighs, his hand dipping down over your hip and settling over your stomach. He inches his fingers down, passing over your sensitive nub and feeling the place where your bodies connect, locked together.

“Does it feel good for you too?” You murmur, a little breathy as his hand slips back over your clit.

“I’ve never felt anything like this,” He presses closer to you, “it’s incredible,”

You chuckle, kissing his arm and relaxing further into his touch. You’re about to agree, to say more, to confess that in truth it’s your only experience in heat that so far hasn’t been terrible, but the door to the bedroom opens and Yunho tenses.

Mingi opens the door slowly, and Yunho pulls you close, his hand closing over your stomach and his other arm wrapping around your shoulders. It’s just Mingi, but Yunho’s brain must still be fogged with the intrinsic need to protect you and in the presence of another alpha, he can’t see that it’s just his friend.

“Mingi,” You shake your head, feeling how tense Yunho is behind you, “give him a minute,”

“You’re okay?” He checks, staying rooted to the spot at the door, knowing that Yunho could hurt you if he stops thinking straight and tries to defend you against the imagined threat of another alpha.

“I’m perfect,” You assure him, “I promise,”

“Is he?” Mingi looks anxious.

“He’s fine,” You nod, smoothing your hand across his arm to try and relieve some of his tension, “but we need some more time.”

Mingi nods, “Come find me when you’re done,”

“We will,”

Mingi’s eyes flick to Yunho, “Be careful with her,”

“I got it,” Yunho’s voice sounds strained.

Mingi nods once, and then disappears, leaving the door open, and you suspect it's so he can hear things a little better should you need him. Yunho’s muscles unlock slowly, his thumb unconsciously rubbing a steady line over your abdomen, and he exhales heavily into your hair.

After a while, you expect his knot to have gone down, but he’s just as locked inside you as ever. The overwhelming alpha quality though has started to fade, and you rest lazily in his arms as he plays with your fingers and waits it out.

“Does it normally take this long?” He asks finally.

“Not usually,” You shake your head, “but it’s your first time knotting someone properly, so it might just take a little bit.”

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs.

“Why?” You tug him a little closer to your back, “This is exactly what I need,”

“Everything felt right?” He pushes himself up onto one elbow so that he can look down at you a little better, propping his head in his hand.

“Mhm,” You assure him, “Better than right,”

He smiles, his eyes flicking over you appreciatively.

“What about for you?” You bring him back to center, rubbing a circle into his palm with the pad of your thumb.

“It wasn’t what I expected,” He says honestly, and your mouth drops open. “No, no,” He cups your cheek, “I meant that it was just… much more intense than I expected. I said a lot of things to you, and I don’t know, I guess I thought that type of thing was just played up in porn,”

“Oh,” You grin, delighted a little by the way his ears run red.

“Yeah,” He smiles, blush creeping into his cheeks now, “I just couldn’t stop myself,”

“Mm,” You nod, “I get it, completely. This is why I wanted to talk before I was in heat,”

“Was it too much?” He checks in.

“No,” You assure him, “It was just what I needed to hear, and it doesn’t mean anything outside of my heat, it’s just instinct.”

He nods and sighs, dropping back to the bed and cuddling you close again, “Good,” he murmurs, “then don’t worry about how clingy I’m about to get,”

“You? Clingy?” You giggle against his chest, “I don’t believe it,”

“I’m a softie,” He shrugs, “I don’t know what to tell you,”

“But you always seem so serious at the studio,” You murmur, “and I’ve seen you go out with a lot of women,”

“Ah,” He laughs, “well the studio is work, and I’m responsible for a lot there. And as far as the dates,” he corrects, “I am trying to appease my mother because she desperately wants me to find a wife, which I’m not really focused on right now, but she’s pretty obstinate.”

“Such a mystery, Jeong Yunho,” You prod him lightly.

“Not really,” He kisses your hair, sighing into you, “I’m just a guy,”

You hum and let your eyes drift closed as he holds you.

He yawns and sighs again, “So, forgive me if I cuddle you to death while you’re here, like I said, softie,”

“I’m not complaining,” You sink into his touch.

He groans a little, his knot finally softening but he stops you when you shift your hips, “Go slow, I don’t want to hurt you,”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, feeling the way his knot fades down into being barely there. His cock starts to soften, and you slowly ease your way forwards while he shifts his hips back, disconnecting you both with a soft wet sound.

His release floods out of you, leaving you messy and sticky, but Yunho kisses your shoulder and shifts away, “Hold tight, I’ll get a towel,”

He seems incredibly unembarrassed about the messy state of heat sex, which you’re eternally grateful for, and within a few minutes you’re cleaned up and dressed again in yet another pair of clean underwear and one of the largest shirts of Mingi’s that you’ve ever seen.

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asks as you finish cleaning your face up in the mirror of Mingi’s bathroom.

“A little sore,” You tell him honestly, “and cramping a little again, but it’s not too bad yet.”

“You want to come see Mingi then? Get out of this room for a minute?” He brushes his fingers down your back as he watches you in the mirror.

“Perfect,”

In the living room, Mingi is waiting. He’s pouring over with nervous energy, his leg bouncing and his fingers fidgeting with his phone, refreshing his social media feed over and over again. The television is on, but he’s clearly not watching, and instead you see him perk up at the first sounds of you emerging from the bedroom.

“Hey,” He twists around on the couch, looking a little relieved when he sees you completely fine and cleaned up wearing one of his t-shirts.

“Hey,” You smile, moving towards the couch, “can I sit?”

“Of course,” He gestures towards the couch, but that’s not exactly what you meant. The sight of him waiting for you, and the palpable taste of his anxiety in the air makes you feel needed, and you push his arms open to settle in his lap.

“Oh,” He adjusts his legs to give you a better seat and winds his arm around your back, “is everything okay?”

“Mhm,” You take his hand, rubbing your thumb gently over the gland in his wrist to soothe him, “you can relax, I’m perfectly fine,”

Yunho takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch, chewing the inside of his cheek as he watches you and Mingi together. With a nudge to his friend’s thigh he gets Mingi’s attention and shakes his head, “I’m sorry I snapped at you,”

“It’s cool,” Mingi shrugs, “I know the feeling.”

“Where did you go, anyways?” You ask, leaning into his chest. The familiarity between the three of you should feel strange, before last night you really were only coworkers to each other. You might have even become friends, but now you’ve pushed so far past that you don’t know what you are except to accept that their hands on your skin feels right.

“I shouldn’t have left, I could feel you were getting restless,” he explains, “I went to make you some broth and get cold water, just putting a few things together, but by the time I got back you were both in it,”

“Ah,” You blush looking down at your hands, “sorry,”

“Don’t be sorry,” Mingi’s broad, warm hand rests on your bare thigh and gives you a subtle squeeze, “I’m glad Yunho could help. I just didn’t think it would be smart to interrupt you,”

“Good thinking,” Yunho adds, running a hand over his face and sighing, “you were right,”

“I told you,” Mingi nods, “it can be intense,”

Yunho passes a hand over your shin before pushing himself back up to stand and he stretches long and tall before groaning, “Alright, I’m starving.”

You clap a hand over your mouth, chuckling into your palm, “Classic,”

“Can I make you something?” He asks, “Either of you?”

Mingi shakes his head, “I’m good,”

“Me too,” You agree, “I should be hungry, but I’m really not,”

Mingi’s nose crinkles, “You should still eat,”

“Maybe in a bit,” You try to appease him.

“In a bit you’ll be jumping our bones again,” Mingi counters.

“I know,” You sigh, “but really, I’m okay. I feel pretty good,”

“This is really just because it’s day one right?” Yunho asks, a little less joking than before.

“Yeah,” You nod, “day one and two are never as bad, and you definitely have more lucidity as long as you’re managing the spikes well. Day three, four, and sometimes five if it lasts that long, are usually a lot harder.”

“How much is a lot?” Yunho asks, stepping close and running his hand over your hair, “You were already in a lot of pain,”

“I’ll be less coherent, and the fever can be worse. I probably won’t have down time like this,” You explain, “the pain isn’t necessarily worse, it’s just more consistent,”

He frowns, “Then you’re eating now,”

You sigh heavily and shake your head, “Honestly, you don’t need to, I can make myself something in a bit or,”

Mingi cuts you off and makes a dismissive noise with his tongue against his teeth, “y/n, relax. This is what we meant when we said we’d help you through your heat. It’s more than just orgasms and knots,”

You swallow back your words, holding his gaze.

“Alphas are meant to provide,” He reminds you, “so let us,”

A flutter of warmth bubbles through you, and you can only nod, no use arguing now when your mind is spinning and telling you to accept. Yunho drops a quick kiss on the top of your head, before disappearing into the kitchen. You’ve never had an alpha provide, never once. In your limited experience before going on suppressants, you were used to being knotted incredibly quickly and then left alone, or having a partner that never really knew how to fully satisfy, leaving you to feverishly deal with your needs while they slept. You’ve never experienced a heat where you felt wanted before.

You ease into Mingi’s chest, resting a head on his shoulder and letting your muscles relax for as long as you can. They make you food, massage your sore hips, and keep you distracted with stories and memories from before your time at the studio. They hold you close, and they ease your pain, they provide.

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mediumgayitalian · 10 months ago

Text

part one

———

Finding parking is, as expected, hard, largely in part because Michael wants to get them all killed.

“— yeah, that’s right, shitwad! Back off! We were here —”

“Will you please shut the fuck up,” Lee hisses, jamming the switch for Michael’s window. Unfortunately, Michael is sticking his fucking head out of it, so it won’t close.

“This fucking guy! This fucking guy thinks he can swoop up to our spot —”

“Motherfucker we’re in Wilmington, do you want to get fucking shot —”

“He can wait his godsdamn turn like everybody else! Hey, fucker —”

He succeeds, finally, in yanking his brother back in by the scruff of his neck and speeding away from the shitwad in question.

“I can’t believe you let him walk all over us!”

“If I end up with a bullet hole through my windshield, I am kicking your ass, Michael. I won’t need to worry about some trigger happy mortal taking you out. I’ll kill you.”

“Drama queen. Now we’re never gonna find a damn spot.”

They do, in fact, find a damn spot. Within forty-three seconds of Michael saying that, actually, Will points out not just a parking spot but a pull-through, which Lee takes, smirking. Michael aims a kick for his knee.

“Go help Will unbuckle, you bitter bitch. I gotta grab something.”

Ignoring both Michael’s grumbling and Will’s insistence that he can unbuckle himself, thank you very much, Lee jogs over to the trunk. He grabs his and Michael’s bows, just in case, and carefully grabs the bundle of roses he bought from the stand across from his apartment. The stems are a little crushed, but the flowers all seem fine, full and bright, sunny yellow. Even the paper is relatively uncrinkled, folding delicately around the thorny leaves.

Michael nods when he sees them. “Nice.”

“Thanks.” Lee tosses him his bow, slinging his own over his back. It flickers with his quiver under the Mist, settling eventually to look like a small backpack. “Got ‘em this morning.”

“Can I hold them?” Will asks.

“Sure, kiddo.”

He lays them gently in his arms, the same way Cass has taught him to bundle herbs and plants when they gather for poultices. Every step is suddenly much more deliberate, avoiding potholes and cracks in the pavement so he doesn’t trip and crush them under his body. When he nearly walks in front of a car, not paying attention, Michael plants a hand on his head, guiding him around like a claw machine.

“Okay,” Lee says, holding open the door. “Let’s find Diana.”

The lobby is crowded. There are people everywhere — families, grandparents, and of course dozens of dancers, shining hair pieces glinting in the low lights, tutus and rhinestones peeking out of studio sweatsuits. Faces heavy with stage makeup bleed into each other. The building is abuzz with sound, chatter and laughter and shouting and twenty different songs playing at once. Lee can hardly believe they’re all fitting in the same building, and almost convinces himself it’s actually enchanted, smaller on the outside. He glances down when Will backs into him, flowers clutched tighter to his chest, and rests a firm hand on his shoulder. He hooks his finger around Michael’s hoodie, too, and for once he doesn’t complain.

“You see her?” he shouts over the noise. Or, well, Lee’s pretty sure that’s what he said. He shakes his head, anyway, and Michael scowls, standing uselessly on his tiptoes. Even if that didn’t put him just barely over most people’s shoulders, the throng of people is too thick to see much. People elbow and push each other around to meet up with family members, and groups of dancers do their best to practice their routines in what limited space is available. Lee has felt less claustrophobic in Times Square at Christmas.

In a stroke of brilliance, in his very humble opinion, he lets go of Will’s shoulder, puts both hands under his arms, and hauls him over his head, settling him on his shoulders.

“Keep an eye out,” he shouts.

Will grins, tugging on Lee’s hair with his free hand in confirmation.

One hand clamped over Will’s knees, the other still hooked on Michael’s hoodie, Lee starts to wade through the crowd. He can start to see, as he gets farther from the door, the entrance to the stage, the ticket stands, the coat check. Several banners hang temporarily from the ceiling and stick to doorways, welcoming them all to the Twenty-Sixth Annual Believe Dance Comp!, and a table laden with trophies sits proudly by the stage doors.

Sitting under one of the banners, Lee notices a group of girls of varying ages, all wearing the green and purple Stage Lights Dance Academy Cass sometimes wears. He guides them closer, scanning each stage makeup-ed face to try and find his sister, but stops short before he gets too close.

Two girls, sitting at the head of the group, mime twisting their hair, exaggeratedly anxious looks on their faces. The rest of the girls roar with laughter.

Lee feels something heavy settle in his stomach.

“You think anyone will come for her?” a younger girl asks, hushed so that Lee can barely hear her over the crowd.

One of the older girls snorts. “Are you kidding? The only way her mom will come is if there’s an open bar!”

Lee is reminded of the one and only time he’d fought a group of empousai. There’d been a trio of them a Central Park, on a field trip he’d gone on with his ninth grade class, surrounding one of the oak dryads. They’d crooned at her, tugging on her leafy hair and trailing clawed fingers down her handmade dress, calling out backhanded compliments. But Lee’s skin felt like it was crawling, he remembers, and the dryad had been tense, green tears building in her eyes. Every bleat of their laughter had grated his ears, and he’d snapped, eventually, ripping off his bow and picking them off one by one. The third one had seen him, chasing him away from his group, but he’d been so mad that he wasn’t even scared. The dryad hadn’t done anything. They got nothing from poking at her. They’d just done it to be cruel, because it was fun for them.

“I don’t even know why she has the gall to show up. She missed the final practice.”

“Miss Breanna likes her, that’s why,” one of the girls scoffs. “Of course she can skiff off practice and still compete. She thinks she’s so much better than us.”

Michael shifts forward. Lee throws out an arm to stop him, shooting him a warning look.

“You think anyone’ll take your side?” he murmurs.

“They’re talking about —!”

“I know, Michael.”

“They can’t talk about her like that!”

“I know, Michael.” He forces his jaw to unclench. “I know.”

“Yeah, well, favourite or not,” another dancer says wickedly, “her seats will be empty again. And she’ll walk out empty-handed and alone, like she always does.”

Most of the adults milling about the lobby hold flowers, like they do. Except unlike them, their bouquets are large, unlike them the stems are not crushed, unlike them they are wrapped in ribbons, in embroidered banners. One is, even, shaped as a ballet slipper, and Lee notices the oldest girl in the group, the one who made the joke about Cass’s mother, eyeing it, smirking.

He pictures Cass holding it next to all the other girls from her studio. With their big, normal families, their wide smiles, their fancy cameras, their beautiful, expensive bouquets. Pictures the smirks that will be sent her way, the whispers. They can’t — gods, what was he thinking?

“What time is it?” he asks.

Michael glances at his watch. “Quarter to.”

“Hm.”

In her frantic IM, yesterday, Diana had ordered them to be here by noon. From what little he knows about dance competitions, Cass’s performance will be sometime after that, nestled among the many. When exactly, he doesn’t know.

If they leave now, wagering, they could miss it. And that would be the worst thing of them all. But…

“Will,” he says, suddenly getting an idea. “C’mere.”

He reaches up and sets Will back on the ground, clutching his hand as he weaves through the crowd, beelining for the far corner. He stops at a sign with a little stick person on it, gently taking the flowers from Will’s hold and passing them back to Michael.

“Listen to me carefully.” He crouches to Will’s level, meeting his eyes. “Diana is — somewhere, in there, getting Cass ready. Michael and I can’t go in there. We need you to go in and act really confused.”

“That will be very easy, because I am confused,” Will protests. “Why do I have to go in there? I don’t even really know why we’re here!”

“Just — go in,” Lee insists. “Trust me. If I give you more instructions, it’ll ruin it.”

Huffing, Will goes.

“Brilliant,” Michael mutters. “Lose the kid and Diana. Great plan, Lee.”

“Come on, does no one trust me?”

“No one knows what you’re doing, dude! You hang around Carter for five minutes and suddenly you think you’re Mr. Plan Guy —”

Lee flushes. “That is not what this is about!”

“I am not missing this! I swear Lee, if we’re late —”

“We’re not gonna be late!”

“Why is it that every boy on Earth is actually stupid,” hisses a new voice. The change room door busts open, damn near cracking under the heel of a heavy boot, and Diana comes striding out behind it, Will perched on her hip. Her short dark hair sticks out in every which way, shoulders tense as a line, mouth twisted in a scowl. Immediately, Lee and Michael snap their mouths shut.

“Hey,” Will complains, pouting.

She adjusts her hold on him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Not you, sweetpea. Only Thing One and Thing Two, over here.” She glares at them. “Why did I find him wandering around in the change room? I told you to wait for me in the lobby! I swear you two want to — ruin this!”

“Hey,” Lee says, flinching back. “You know we don’t, Diana. That’s not fair.”

She scrubs a hand down her face, sighing. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s just —” She presses another kiss to Will’s cheek and sets him down, leaning on the doorframe. “It’s been a rough morning. She keeps trying to call her mom, and — well.”

Lee hates that those girls were right. He hates it. He hates that they’ve been right before, that Cass has walked off the stage, face blank, alone. Hearing their giggling, probably. Twisting her hair around her fingers as she tries to hold it together.

His jaw tightens.

Not this fucking time.

“What time is Cass on?” he asks

“…Her solo at one-thirty,” Diana says. “But —”

“Great.” Lee grabs each brother’s shoulder, pulling them back. “We won’t be late, Diana, I promise.”

“Wait! Lee — dude, what are you —”

“We’ll meet you inside! Save us seats!”

“Lee! Get back here!”

“Seats!” Lee calls, glancing back. He makes a vague gesture in return to her incredulous, spread-wide hands, trying to convey the Situation. “We won’t be late! Promise!”

“I’ll kill you if you are!” she relents. “Be fucking back on time!”

———

In hindsight, it would have been smarter to take the car.

For whatever reason, both Lee and Michael assumed there would be a flower stand just outside the theatre. Neither of them had seen one on the way in, but it made sense. If Lee had a flower business, he’d probably put it next to a theatre. Where else would you put it?

Regardless, there isn’t anything close across the street, or even on the whole block. Will sits on his shoulders again, because it’s easier than trying to guide him, and every so often he glances at the watch Beckendorf made him, calling out the time.

“Will,” Lee begs, veering around a street corner, “you are not helping.”

“I am so!” He checks his watch again. “Twenty-seven minutes ‘til Cass starts. That’s why we’re here, right? To watch Cass dance?”

“So long as we make it in time,” Michael stresses. “Shit, Lee, maybe we should just head back. The flowers we have are fine —”

“Cass deserves more than fine.”

Michael snaps his mouth shut. “I know that.”

Lee slumps. “I — know you know. Sorry.”

Their steps fall in synch, footsteps making level prints in the light dusting of snow. On occasion a passing car drowns them out, but for the most part the only sound is their breathing, and Will picking at his nails. The shifting of their jackets.

“You’ll never undo it, Lee.” The road cross button makes a heavy click noise under Michael’s fist. The countdown for the walking man is loud, four, three, two, one. Three of the little lights are broken, making it look like its chest is cracked open. “There’s some shit you just can’t fix.”

“I’m not trying to — fix her,” he argues weakly. “I’m just…”

He can’t push away the horrible ache in his chest. The rapidly expanding feeling, the sinking chasm of expecting and hoping and being disappointed. Of looking out into the crowd to find a familiar face and not finding one. Of hearing giggles as you walk past and clenching your teeth, knowing. It balloons, pushing out on his ribcage, forcing its way up his throat.

Michael stops, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed. Lee stares at a spot at the air above his shoulder, swallowing roughly, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood.

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You are, Lee. You think competing with those assholes is gonna — go back? Gonna magically bring her fucking — hell, bring Dad?”

Lee looks away. “Of course not.”

“We’re going to be there. That’s what matters, isn’t it? That’s what’s really important.”

“Oh, to hell with high horses, Michael. I’m fucking tired of — of pretending it’s okay!” He starts forward again, ignoring the twinge of pain in his skull when Will grips his hair, yelping at the sudden surge forward. Michael jogs to keep up. “It’s — fight these monsters, train these kids, lead your cabin. Ignore the fact that your dad couldn’t be assed to visit a few times a year, he’s an Olympian, after all, you understand. Well, I’m tired of it! I’m tired of —” he trips over a crack in the sidewalk, barely catching himself — “I’m tired of being so damn understanding!”

For a moment Michael says nothing. Lee’s breathing is heavy, shakey, and it takes effort to still the tremble in his hands.

“The girl,” Michael says eventually. “The prissy one, who sat closer to the door.”

“…What about her?”

“I just.” He chews at his bottom lip. “I’m not saying I disagree with you, dude, but you have issues, dude, and shit you need to work out. For real. Besides just —” he gestures broadly at the mostly empty street — “ranting into the air.” Slowly, a smirk spreads across his face. “It would be really, really funny to see her face if Cass walks out with a bouquet three times the size of hers, wouldn’t it.”

Lee matches his grin. “It would be.”

“Betcha she’d seethe.”

“Probably turn purple.”

They turn to each other, finally back in synch.

“Nineteen minutes,” Will pipes up.

Lee startles. He checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Let’s go.”

———

part three

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delicatebarness · 9 months ago

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i think he knows | chapter nine

Summary: As the sneaking continues, some secrets are revealed.

Warnings: Two perspectives are used. A few uses of Y/N. A lot of dialogue between multiple characters. Mentions/Implied Underage Sex. Our girlie is sad again.

Word Count: 1498

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A/N: I wrote this chapter while sitting in a van watching big sweaty men run around with guns (all I pictured all day was winter soldier) 🤤 I edited once I got home and had calmed myself down. 🙈

Bucky's words hung in the air, it prompted a sense of anticipation. You nodded as meeting his gaze, both curiosity and concern rushed through you.

"What is it?" you asked softly, as the gravity of his tone set in.

Taking a deep breath, he reached out to take your hand in his. "I know this isn't ideal," he started, looking down at your hand rather than into your eyes he began to rub circles against your skin.

"Us, um, sneaking around, keeping this hidden." You listened intently, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

"But," he continued, his gaze found its way back to yours. "I also know that being with you is worth it." His vulnerability took you by surprise, warming your heart. "I want to make this work."

With a small smile, you squeezed his hand, silently giving him the reassurance he needed to tell you what was on his mind.

"What are we doing here?" Peter asked while looking up at the 'Stark's Motor's' sign above the rundown car and bike garage. "You know this is Tony Stark's family's business right? Tony Stark as in Bucky Barnes' friend?" Wanda had been curious about the tension between the two groups of friends, she sensed that it was deeper than simply, different personalities.

"Can I help you with something?" Tony asked as he looked Peter and Wanda up and down. They seemed familiar to him but he couldn't quite place them. Wanda looked around Tony, noticing the rest of the group gathered on sofas behind him.

Just as she expected, Bucky Barnes, for being the so-called 'leader' of the group, wasn't to be seen.

"We know about the bets," Wanda stated, gaining the attention of the whole group. The smirks that found their way to their faces proved to Wanda and Peter that the rumors were true. Concern for their friend became evident between them.

"What bets?" Natasha Romanoff questioned them, her tone guarded.

"When you bet each other on how far you can get with someone," Peter interjected before Wanda could, his voice rushed.

"What about them? You want in or something?" Loki, Peter recognized as the younger brother of Thor, questioned with a mischievous smile. He noticed that he was the only one of the gang who would ever show their face to the game.

"No," Wanda began to make her way around the service counter, moving closer to the group of friends. "We want you to tell us what our friend did to deserve being a part of your games," she demanded, standing her ground.

Natasha rolled her eyes before standing up, closing the distance between herself and Wanda in an attempt to intimidate her. "Who's your friend?" she asked curiously while crossing her arms over her chest.

"Y/N Rogers," Peter answered for Wanda, she was intensely looking up at Natasha with furrowed brows. "Steve Rogers' little sister." A silence surrounded the garage at the mention of Rogers.

"She's been on the off-limits list for, what, two years now?" Peter Quill spoke up while looking around the group of his friends. The worst 'bad boy' in the group had, barely got into any trouble, and wasn't mischievous; he just liked to tell jokes and wear a red leather jacket.

"What's the off-limits list?" They asked Quill simultaneously, snapping their heads in his direction. Catching the moment Stark punched him in the arm, he had said too much.

Sighing, Natasha seemingly began to relax more around the other students, going back to where she had previously been sitting. “The list of people we, under no circumstances, are allowed to bet on,” she explained, her voice still hinting at the annoyance the pair was causing. “She’s been on that list since her first day of freshman year?” she continued, looking around at her friends to confirm the amount of time. They all nodded in agreement.

“Too bad the same couldn’t have been said for her brother,” a sense of amusement in Stark’s voice as he spoke under his breath.

“Oh yeah, Natasha lost Buck some real cash on that one.” Quill laughed before taking a drink from the bottle he’d been nursing since Wanda and Peter arrived.

Wanda and Peter shot each other a glance, a silent conversation of understanding happening between them. As they exchanged the silent vow to uncover more, they turned about to the group, knowing they were diving into dangerous waters. Bucky and his friends were the most feared pack in the school, only Steve and his friends weren’t worried about getting on their bad side. Even then, a few of them still watched their backs.

“We need to know everything,” Wanda exclaimed, causing the group to bring their attention back to the younger peers.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed, but there was a slight hint of respect for the girl. “You two don’t know when to quit, do you?” she muttered under her breath. Ignoring Natasha’s remark, the two friends stood their ground. Not moving until someone talked.

Bucky hesitated for a moment, struggling to find the right words. Taking a deep breath, his heart pounded. “Back in freshman year, I… I made a bet with Natasha,” he admitted.

Your brow furrowed with confusion, “What kind of bet?” You asked, voice trembling slightly, you felt like you already knew the answer. Hearing it aloud, you feared it would make it real.

His gaze dropped from yours as he swallowed hard, “I bet that she couldn’t sleep with Steve,” he confessed, your hand dropped from him as your body went into a state of shock. Your mind went back to the night before, how he reassured you that you weren’t a part of it. You remember now that he never denied the fact that they do make bets. “I didn’t think she would do it, Y/N,” he looked up, his eyes filled with remorse as he called you by your name rather than his nickname for you.

“Why?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over your heart pounding. “If you didn’t think she would, why did you?”

“We were freshmen, we were just having fun,” he sighed, trying to defend himself and the friends he saw as family. “He was an easy target back, a try-hard, it was supposed to be a joke,” he ran a hand through his hair, as he rushed his words.

The weight of his confession sank into your bones. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Disbelief surged through you, you couldn’t process everything at once. His reasoning only added to the turmoil swirling inside.

There was a silence settling between you, your breathing and the background noise for the diner was the only sound. The image of Steve, oblivious to the wager placed on him, added another layer of hurt.

You finally found your voice, it trembled as you held back tears. Not only were you hurting for your brother but, you couldn’t help shake the feeling that Bucky was lying about you. “How could you?” you questioned.

“I know I messed up,” Bucky’s voice softened, his hand reaching out as if to bridge the growing distance. “I mean, it’s most likely the main reason he wants me nowhere near you,” his words trailed off, and you turned away.

You looked everywhere but in Bucky’s direction, afraid of the tears threatening to spill. “I’m guessing she then discarded him like he never mattered?” you asked, recounting the warning Steve had given you about Bucky and his friends.

Another sigh from Bucky. “After everything, Steve caught feelings for her but it was just a game to her so she ignored him and has since,” he explained as he played with the straw in his milkshake glass. “It wasn’t until a couple of months later that he found out it was a bet, a bet that I started,” he began mumbling to himself about wishing he had a smoke or a drink before continuing. “We’ve never been okay since, which I understand on some level, but, he came out stronger I guess,” the confused look behind your teary eyes made his heart clench. “That was when he suddenly gained muscle and became the star athlete he is today.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, you struggled to hear it yourself as you tried to find the words.

Bucky nodded, he understood that telling you would have been painful. He saw the amount of compassion and empathy you carried in your heart, he knew it was risky for him to tell you the truth. He wished he could tell you, we fought once over nothing but stupid boy stuff, but, he couldn’t.

“I understand,” he replied softly, his head dropped landing his gaze on the table between you. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and Steve. I just, I don’t want there to be secrets between us as well.” Even though your heart ached for your brother and Bucky’s confession, you offered him a small nod.

- - -

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fili-urzudel · 1 year ago

Note

Hi I absolutely love your writing!!! Like seriously you have me smiling to myself hard I feel like an idiot lol. Anyway, can I request a romantic Kili with fake relationship + forehead touches? Bonus points if you add teasing brother Fili into the story too!

I love getting compliments like this omg! I'm so sorry that it took me so long to get this out for you and that I sort of left Fíli out (though whoever said this couldn't have a part two?).

When I put 50. under the meet cute prompt, I meant exactly that: you're strangers when one or the other of you finds yourself in need of a fake romance to escape some situation.

I also have Taylor Swift on the brain

9. Forehead touches (again yippee!)

12. Dancing (added this one)

50. Need a fake relationship immediately

Warnings: Dancing, being a little intoxicated, lying, reader describes self as a woman

Word count: 1.2k

Enchanted - Kíli Durin x Reader

It was nice to be recognized as equals by the dwarves of Erebor. This was what you reminded yourself as you leaned against a pillar in the back of the ballroom. It was nice that they were attempting to involve the people of Dale in their culture. It was nice that, after three years of instability, the two kingdoms could afford a night of leisure.

You had never really been one for parties. Talking got to be boring and stressful quickly, most of the eligible men had already picked their dancing partners, and you had made a promise to yourself to stay lucid. Unfortunately, dwarven liquor was quite strong, so you could only manage one drink for the time being.

You sighed, wondering if you had wasted too much time tailoring your dress for this event. If you had wasted too much time on practicing what few traditional dwarven group dances you could find information on.

As your eyes swept the room again, they landed on an attractive side profile. Dark hair with bangs, strong features, a dusting of stubble that you hadn't seen before but found appealing, and brown eyes—oh, no. You quickly glanced away, wondering how long you had been staring. You decided to risk raising your eyes again, in the hopes of appearing less awkward. He made eye contact once more, and smiled. It was a dazzling smile, one that you couldn't help but respond in kind to.

He was moving through the crowd before you knew it.

"I can see you're having just as much fun as I am," he said sardonically, and you chuckled.

"Never have I been so excited," you agreed with him.

"Well, there are ways to make the evening more interesting," he mused, and you wondered what he could mean. He glanced to the side, clearly recognizing someone, and he stepped closer, well within your personal space. "Are you a good actor?"

"What?" You asked in a daze. You feared your tipsiness dragging down your understanding.

"A dwarrowdam has been eagerly pursuing me for some weeks and she is beginning to refuse to believe that I have a partner."

"And do you?"

"No," he admitted, and the two of you laughed. "But you could help me uphold the lie."

You contemplated it for a moment. He was certainly more interesting than any man you had yet met. You would go so far as to say he was incredibly handsome. It was all almost enough to make you wish that his interest was more than just a ploy to escape an annoyance. But a dance partner was a dance partner.

"Dance with me," you offered, which earned you another bright smile.

"Of course, my lady," he held out his hand. You realized that neither of you had asked the others' names. Neither of you had offered.

You took his hand.

"Do you know this dance?" he asked.

"I practiced," you nodded seriously. "Just... never with someone who learned it traditionally."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," he said with another easy smirk. The violins signaled that you had no more time to wonder.

The dance would have been head-spin inducing even if you were sober, especially being the tallest among the dancers. That was rare for you. Still, the intertwined elbows, quick turns, and aisles of other dancers were a thrill, and you were glad to finally be able to participate.

You gave a hearty laugh as the dance finally came to an end with a stomp and a loud cheer. "I did it!" You said proudly, to no one in particular.

Your partner smiled along with you. "You did excellently!" His expression suddenly changed. "Here she comes," he muttered, and you were barely able to steal a glance before the mass of petticoats made herself known.

"My prince!" She said with fake politeness and a painted on smile. You did your best to hide your surprise. Prince? Was that only a pet name?

He did look awfully similar to your father's description of one of the dwarves that had paraded through Laketown, now that you thought of it. "May I ask who your lovely partner may be? It's quite unusual, men dancing with dwarves, don't you think?"

"Well, then it is a good thing I am a woman," you said, chuckling in a way that you hoped matched her energy. You introduced yourself. "Thank you for calling me lovely. I am courting this handsome dwarf!"

She glanced between the two of you, looking confused and mildly angry. She hid it surprisingly well. "Is this true?" She asked your partner, and he laughed nearly naturally.

"Of course it is! I keep telling you about her, and well, here she is," he gestured to you with his free hand.

"You never mentioned her name before," she insisted.

"She's a private, quiet maiden. Something I appreciate about her," he said, pushing more warmth into his voice. He was selling it very well.

She stood, upset, observing the two of you for another moment. Just as you were about to excuse the two of you, she spoke up again.

"Why is it that neither of you have courting beads?"

Your partner's mouth gaped for a moment, and you scrambled for a believable lie. What on earth and in the heavens was a courting bead?

"Ah, well, men's traditions are different, and I am waiting to give..." you realized you still didn't know his name. "...my love a bead of his own until I can learn to forge one well enough that it is an adornment rather than a burden."

"No matter how much I assure her that any gift from her is a treasure," he said with a smile, looking up at you.

You took the opportunity to hopefully shake his suitor for good. It was the least you could do for your new friend. You dropped your forehead against him, putting on your best lovesick smile. "You're too sweet, beloved."

"Well," the impatient dam huffed. "Congratulations."

Your hair blocked your view. "Is she gone?" You murmured, realizing you could feel his breath on your lips.

"Yes, I do believe you've rescued me," he chuckled, eyelashes fluttering at your closeness.

"My pleasure," you smiled, before remembering yourself. You straightened, allowing the two of you to clear the floor before the next dance. "Why did she call you Prince?"

"Ah, right," he cast his eyes to the floor. "I am Kíli Durin, Prince of Erebor. Not that it means much, since I'm not in line for the throne."

"Huh," you said simply, sure that if this were any other circumstance, you would be all but panicking. "Well, um, I believe I've already introduced myself, Your Highness. It's a pleasure to properly make your acquaintance."

The prince's face seemed to fall. "Come now, we don't need all of that," he assured you. "I much prefer for you to call me by anything other than my title."

You laughed. "What, like 'my love'?" You referenced your earlier bluff. "I don't suppose that would do for a man I just met."

You thought you perhaps could have seen his cheeks turn pink at the name. "Well, no, but Kíli is a perfectly acceptable middle ground."

"Nice to meet you then, Kíli."

"And it is an honor to meet you."

#lotr fanfic #lotr #lotr fandom #the hobbit #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #kili x reader #kíli x reader #kili durin x reader #kíli durin x reader #kili x reader fluff

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dfortrafalgar · 9 months ago

Text

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But sometimes, you just need a little bit of love... and a little bit of science.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings

Interlude II

[Prev] [Next]

Law only gave you his phone number for study group purposes. He was strictly adamant that he didn’t want you texting him outside of that single reason.

It was also him that broke that rule. After only 5 days.

You woke up at around 9 in the morning on a Saturday, exhausted from a night out with your friends. You lazily rolled over in your bed, squinting your eyes at the sunlight that beamed through the closed blinds of you and Ikkaku’s dorm room. She had stayed at her boyfriend’s, so you had the entire space to yourself for the morning. You reached your hand over to the small table you kept by your bed, grabbing your phone and holding it close to your face. A few texts from your friends containing pictures from the night previous were in your messages, but one stood out to you.

Mean guy from study group Isn’t this the guy that was bothering you?

Mean guy from study group [1 Attachment]

You sat up in your bed, rubbing your eyes as you opened your conversation with Law. You had only texted three times exactly, first to state your name for his contact (if he even bothered to change your contact), followed by a text from him about the time for the next study group meeting, and lastly you saying ‘thanks’.

But now this.

He had attached a hyperlink that opened up to a news headline dated from the day previous.

North Blue University student arrested for cyberstalking and harassment, officials say.

You quickly tapped on the text window to reply to Law, your hands trembling.

Holy shit, yeah thats him alright

The incoming message bubble popped up and disappeared a few times while Law was typing on the other end. You weren’t expecting him to respond at all, but what he did follow up with made your breath catch in your throat.

Mean guy from study group Are you alright?

Were. You. Alright.

Was he asking about your wellbeing?

With your fingers trembling for a completely different reason, you tapped out a response.

Are you worried about me???

You threw your phone down onto your comforter, your hands going to cup your warm cheeks as you watched those three little bubbles appear, then disappear, then appear again, and disappear. He was surely struggling. You snatched your phone back up, intent on typing an apologetic message, thinking that you came across more accusatory than you intended, but his response popped up before you could type anything out.

Mean guy from study group I guess.

Mean guy from study group It’s scary being harassed, so I wanted to make sure you saw the news. Unless you were one of the ones who reported him.

He was worried about you. Law was worried about you.

You felt blood rush to your face. You were for sure overreacting. Some alcohol must still be in your system from how quickly your exhaustion-riddled mind was jumping to conclusions. He was only sending you this info because he was with you when you were confronted, that’s all. It couldn’t be anymore than that.

But a strange part of you, a part of you that you struggled to consider, almost wished it was something more.

You quickly typed out a response.

Thank you, I really appreiate iy

Ot**

It***

Appreciate****

Im sorry ;3;

Now you've done it. He hated spam messages. If this didn’t get your number blocked by him officially, then you’d resign yourself to never showing up to another study meeting. You plopped your phone down and swung your legs over the side of your mattress to hop down and retreat to the bathroom, but your screen lit up one more time.

Mean guy from study group Lol. It’s okay.

Lol.

LOL.

You sprinted to the bathroom, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

What was wrong with you?! He was an asshole. He was a massive douche who barely bothered to look at you, never talked to you outside of the study group (despite both of your schedules eerily aligning on multiple days of the week). He made a point to avoid you when you approached his friends on campus to say hello. He kept his head down, never looking at anyone.

You slapped your hands against your cheeks in the mirror, attempting to snap yourself out of whatever meet-cute daydream your subconscious was trapped in.

He was an asshole you studied with and he helped you out of a predicament once. It was nothing more than that.

—

Law didn’t text you for almost a week after he initially sent you that news article, followed up his message with uncharacteristic concern for your wellbeing, and then an ‘lol’. He was too embarrassed to even open his text messages, the mere glimpse of your contact name making him anxious.

Lunch girl

He couldn’t come up with anything better. You probably named him something stupid on your phone, too. Regardless, he was avoiding you like the plague when he could. Keeping his head down during study group, dodging eye contact like a rogue flyball at a baseball game, and keeping his lips shut when his friends were in conversation with you.

This was getting annoying.

The next Friday evening, a week after your last brief text message conversation, Law had holed himself up in his room for the evening, intent on swallowing himself into a medical documentary series he had started watching a few days earlier. All the lights in his single dorm room were off, a small fan was blowing cool air around his room, and his computer was on his bed with the brightness turned all the way up. He had just sat down on his mattress and popped one earbud in when a loud knock pounded on his door.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think it was one of the residential assistants.

But that knock was too familiar to him. With a deep groan, he slid off of his bed and pulled out his earbud, trudging toward the door with one of his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his yellow hoodie. He pulled the door open, his eyes squinting from the bright light of the hallway.

“The hermit appears,” Shachi chided. “Come on, we’re taking you out.”

“I hope you mean to kill me,” Law muttered back. “Whatever you have planned, I’m not interested.”

“Well, we’re not giving you a choice. Come on,” Penguin replied, grabbing his friend’s arm and yanking him out of his dorm. Shachi closed the door for Law, making sure to slip inside and grab his friend’s key that was hung on the back of the door handle.

“What the fuck?!” Law hollered as he was dragged into the elevator. Penguin punched the button to the ground floor, and the three began their slow descent.

“We’re going to Ikkaku’s, we’re gonna have a movie night,” Shachi piped up with an excited lilt in his voice.

Law swallowed sharply. Ikkaku’s dorm was also your dorm.

“No. Let me go,” he demanded, trying to push himself away from Penguin, who’s hand was still firmly wrapped around Law’s wrist.

Penguin made a tsk sound in his mouth. “No-can-do, buck-a-roo,” he sang. “Besides, it’s getting annoying watching you beat around the bush when it comes to New Girl. Ikkaku told me she’s been getting sad that you’ve been avoiding her.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Law snapped, his voice dripping with venom. “I don’t like her.”

“Bullshit,” Shachi snapped. “You’re smitten for her and you know it.”

Law bit the inside of his lip as the elevator door slid open and his friends dragged him into the lobby of their building, pulling him into the early autumn air.

“Besides, she’s cute. And somehow she’s been able to put up with your dick energy without getting upset about it. Well, until now, obviously,” Penguin added.

“I don’t understand why it’s either of your business,” Law barked, tripping over his feet as he was dragged along.

Your dorm building, as well as Law’s, was part of a quadruple group of five-story buildings appropriately named ‘The Quad.’ Your’s was directly across from Law’s, past a fairly large center green with a few benches and a small stone statue of a pig. No one really knew why the pig was there, and no one really questioned it.

The pig’s marbled eyes reflected Law’s nervous energy in the dark. The raven-haired man gulped as he was dragged through the doors of your building, into the lobby, and subsequently up the elevator.

“Can you let go of my wrist now?” he asked, wiggling his fingers to make sure he still had feeling in them. Penguin’s grip might as well have been a handcuff.

“No, ‘cus you’re just gonna run away,” Penguin responded, squeezing his friend’s wrist to punctuate his point.

“I hate you two,” he groaned.

“Love you too, buddy,” Shachi replied with a shit-eating grin.

The elevator door opened on the third floor and the three men stepped out, trudging down the hallway closer toward you and Ikkaku’s dorm. Your room was located near the end of the hallway. The outside of it was decorated with paper flowers and a whiteboard that had both of your names on it. In the corner, a tiny penis was drawn with the dry erase marker that was kept clipped to the top of the board.

Shachi knocked three times in quick succession. The frantic sound of footsteps bounced from inside of the room. Large brown eyes and frizzy, curly brown hair was behind the door when it swung open.

“You got him!” Ikkaku called, a bright smile on her face.

“We needed to trap him like a stray cat,” Penguin said back, his voice almost prideful, as if kidnapping his friend from a nice, peaceful, solitary movie night was an affable feat.

“Come in, come in, we got some drinks,” she said, opening her door wider and beckoning the three inside. She planted a kiss on Penguin’s cheek when he passed by, making Shachi groan.

Your room was substantially larger than Law’s, on account of there being two of you, and each side was decorated with your respective tastes. Ikkaku’s bed was lifted, with a tidy desk area underneath and plush blankets covering her mattress. Her side of the wall was decorated with flowers and posters from her favorite musicians, and some polaroid photos attached to string lights hanging near the ceiling. Your side was similar, with a large amount of fluffy pillows and blankets, but the poster that was hanging above the head of your bed frame was what caught his eye first.

It was a framed poster of ‘Sora: Warrior of the Sea’. The bottom of it was signed with a few names in metallic alcohol markers. You were sitting on your bed with your legs crossed, holding a pillow to your chest. When Law finally tore his eyes away from the poster, they landed on you staring back at him. You must have known he was ogling your mounted possession, as you simply tossed him a shy, knowing smile.

“So, what are we watching?” Penguin asked, finally releasing Law’s grip to clamor onto Ikkaku’s bed.

Ikkaku grinned. “I found this cool murder mystery documentary. I think it’s based on a true story, or something. Perfect for a Friday night.”

Your shoulders stiffened. “Are you sure…? Ika, you know I don’t like stuff like that…”

Law’s chest clenched at the sound of your unsure voice. He thought about how nervous you became when he first encountered you during lunch that day, how you shied away from the kid confronting you as if you hoped the wall would swallow you whole. You looked so small, then. He remained standing in the center of your room, feeling too awkward to take a seat anywhere. He finally decided to simply sit on the floor against the back wall, facing the small television that was connected to Ikkaku’s laptop.

“You’ll be fine,” Ikkaku chided. “You’re with us, nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

He didn’t miss the way your throat bobbed slightly as you swallowed a thick glob of spit.

With a few taps against the trackpad of Ikkaku’s laptop, the movie started. She turned off her string lights with her phone, plunging the room into darkness, with the only light being from the television screen. Some opening credits flashed on the screen as the documentary started. Some over-dramatic narration about a serial killer who was found guilty for an estimated 20 or so murders of college-aged women.

How topical.

Some comments were passed around between Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku, some dry jokes here and there related to the crimes committed by this degenerate man.

Everything was going smoothly, until the documentary made a bold choice to act out the scene of an assault. Suddenly, you bolted upright from your bed, landing on your feet, bolting to your door in the dark based on muscle memory. Law watched as your figure eclipsed the television screen, the door to your room opening and closing quickly cutting off the light from the hallway.

“What was that about?” Shachi asked, confusion and slight annoyance in his voice.

“She can’t stand stuff like this, I don’t get it. It’s all over dramatic, anyway,” Ikkaku replied.

Law bit the inside of his cheek. His body began moving on its own, pushing him to his feet and out the door, tripping over a pair of shoes in the dark as he fumbled to leave the room. The bright light from the hallway infiltrated his eyes and made them water slightly, but he took long strides down the hallway to the stairwell to ascend to the first floor. He wasn’t telling himself to look for you, but at the same time, that’s exactly what he was doing.

The stairs dumped him outside where a fire escape door was attached to the side of the building. The sun had officially set now, plunging the entire campus into darkness save for the walkway lamps that lit the sidewalk. He frantically looked left, right, then left again, before rounding the back of the building. You must have been somewhere out here. He had a feeling.

To his mild surprise, you were indeed behind the building, sitting on a concrete ledge with your arms around your head. The only light above you was a flood light that barely cast enough of an image over the building’s exterior, but it was enough to make out your posture. You had essentially folded yourself in half, your chest pressed against your knees as your feet dangled a few inches above the ground. Even in the darkness, Law could see you trembling. His heart skipped a beat as he approached you faster than he would have liked. He felt like he was out of his body.

“H-Hey…” he uttered, afraid his words were too quiet.

Your head shot up, your eyes widened in surprise. Tears were streaming down your swollen cheeks, your chin quivering as you held in your hiccups and sobs.

“What do you want,” you uttered, your eyebrows furrowing.

Law couldn’t blame you for your venomous tone, after all the disinterest he had given you over the past week. You probably thought he wanted you dead, if anything.

“I just… wanted to make sure you were okay,” he muttered back, his low voice barely above a whisper.

You wiped your eyes against the sleeve of your own sweatshirt. “Why do you care? Don’t you hate me, or something?”

“I don’t hate you,” he replied. It wasn’t a lie. Maybe when he first met you he wanted it to be, but after getting thrice-a-week doses of your smile when you talked to his friends, he was finding it harder and harder to hate you. If anything, he struggled to admit that he had actually grown quite fond of you. The thought still made a shiver run up his spine. It was so foreign, so unlike him. The kid who had grown to hate the thought of love, having lost everything to its toxic clutches.

You were staring at him with red, puffy eyes. You wanted to ask him why he had been so off putting toward you after your brief text conversation with him the week prior. You wanted to yell at him for being a dickhead toward you, for not having the balls to simply tell you that he didn’t want you around instead of acting like you didn’t exist. But your lips stayed closed, trembling as you held in your tears.

A deep-rooted part of you wanted him to sit next to you.

Law’s feet started moving on their own again, a mere subconscious in a vessel of flesh. He sat on the concrete beside you.

After a few painfully awkward moments, he finally opened his mouth to speak. “I’m kind of a dick.”

You snorted, dry and sarcastic. “I couldn’t tell.”

Law brought one of his knees to his chest, his heel resting against the concrete retaining wall. “I’m not good with words, either.”

This time, you simply stayed silent. The only noises coming from you were weak sniffles as your tears died down, your mind finding peace with his presence. A peace you would have never expected. Through the low light from the flood lamp above your heads, your eyes caught another look at the tattoos on his hands. DEATH.

Neither of you moved when your head knocked against his shoulder, your upper body leaning to the side. You could feel his chest still as he held his breath, eyes surly blown wide with the suddenness of your movement.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you muttered. “I don’t know why I’m leaning on you.”

“Are you some kind of zombie?” he replied, keeping his voice low. A very small smirk creeped onto his lips, but he forced it down as soon as he felt his muscles twitch.

“Probably,” you responded, serious as you could be. “I don’t like assault.”

Law’s mind flashed back to the scene that had made you get up and leave. Not many people did like assault, but he had a keen feeling your words were a bit deeper than that.

Without thinking, he blurted, “What do you like?”

You kept your skull against his bony shoulder. He had a certain scent to him, a boyish musk mixed with the scent of cedar and something citrus-y. It was… comforting. With a small grin, you replied, “Sora.”

Law’s heart skipped a beat.

You finally picked your head up. “I saw you staring at my poster. I got it a few years ago at a con… the voice actors from the anime were in the dealer’s room doing a signing event.”

“Have you read the latest chapters of the comic?” he asked, finally turning his attention toward you. Your eyes were still swollen from crying, but you had a small smile on your face, very similar to the one you gave him during your lunchroom encounter. His chest fluttered again. He was probably dying of acute heart failure. Perhaps an aortic aneurysm.

“I have, I pirate it online,” you replied. “Yo ho ho.”

Your voice was dry, but the sound of your lazy imitation of a pirate laugh made him snort. He couldn’t help it. His body was acting on its own. He shouldn’t be laughing with you, he shouldn’t have let you lean your head on his shoulder. He needed to keep you at arm’s length, or even further away. But something about you kept drawing him in. Something about you, the sound of your voice, the faint smell of lavender on your skin, the way your eyes sparkled on cloudless days, the softness of your lips when they curled into a smile while you laughed.

Fuck.

“Law…?” you questioned, his golden eyes staring off into space.

He snapped back to attention, tearing his eyes away from you and staring at the ground below his feet. “Sorry.”

Your lips fell. “It’s alright.”

A few brief moments of silence passed through you before he suddenly blurted, “I wouldn’t be a good man for you.”

FUCK.

You turned your head to face him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he stated bluntly. “I spoke without thinking.”

You had heard him loud and clear, though. Your heart hammered in your chest, hoping, begging for him to repeat those words. You were shocked with how badly you wanted to prove him wrong.

“I don’t think that’s true,” you whispered. “I think you could be a really good man for me.”

Law sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. He slowly picked his head up, his weary golden eyes meeting your own. You were gazing at him, a mixture of apprehension and understanding painting your features. You seemed just as damaged as he was.

“Do you…” he mumbled, trying to collect his racing thoughts. “Do you want to go back to my place and watch Sora?”

Your lips broke out into a nervous grin. “I’d love to.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

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iamnmbr3 · 2 months ago

Note

4, 13, 15, 16

For question part. Idk ot can be for ships or not but If possible for drarry

Sure why not?

4) Favorite line

I mean. So many of them. love the bit where harry just casually drops that he remembers something he saw draco looking at one time in a ship 4 years ago and acts like it's no big deal (while ron takes critical psychic damage beside him). i mean look at this and tell me ron isn't absolutely dying inside as his last feeble arguments of 'c'mon hermione. maybe it's not what it looks like. surely he couldn't ACTUALLY fancy Malfoy' crumble before his eyes.

and of course as you have pointed out, there's the iconic moment in book 7 when we find out even voldemort ships it.

also shoutout to the movie version of their room of requirement exchange in the 8th movie; the movies are not my favorite overall but that moment was for the drarry fans

13) Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Answered here.

15) Worst thing they’ve ever done

joining an extremist paramilitary group was definitely not Draco's finest moment. But if we need a concrete moment probably the time he attempted to use crucio on harry in anger - since it's the only time he uses an unforgivable entirely of his own volition out of anger and not because he is being coerced/pressured in some way. and of course the bit where harry uses crucio on one of the carrows in book 7 is definitely his darkest moment but imho it's so poorly written and handled that I generally don't consider it canon. i do kind like the parallelism of them both having very similar darkest moments tho.

16) Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

their feelings for each other.

Send me a character or ship and a number

#i know by date that this was for an older ask game #ask game #asks #drarry #hpdm #dmhp #harry/draco #harry x draco #harry potter/draco malfoy #harco #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy

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goldenrods935 · 2 months ago

Text

ORIGINS FANFIC!! (slowburn RiDe)

(Chpt. 1)

Hello everyone! I just wanted to try something new so I chose fanfiction ^^ how fun. I am not writer but I do promise that I tried to have it make sense, at least the best I could. The prompt is a slow burn RiDe fic which does mean I am going to add alot more to this but given it is my first time writing something like this and posting it I just wanted some insight and perhaps advice and people's input :) I am definitely open to any criticism and anything people may offer. This does all take place in origins, and im sorry if this isn't 100 percent accurate, I did get into zombies like 2 months ago so I am not sure if I had time to let ot marinate enough but I guess I just wanted to try it out! Ride is my fav ship if you couldn't tell and I was hoping to be able to share this with you ^^. Once again I do plan on updating but when is something I haven't decided yet. Since this is only the first chapter I have inputted nothing about the ship just yet but of course with it being a slow burn I will slowly add elements I promise :).

I would also like to add, i removed the point system because I wasn't sure how to implement it, and i want to illiterate this may not be 100 percent accurate to the story. I will try my best but if I do wrong please tell me. From what I can gather this is all I have for now. Anyways, please enjoy and thank you!!!!

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The sound of what can only be assumed to be machinery blaired throughout the area, its alarms being loud, and its footsteps being heavy. How many were there? More than one, even more than two, three, it seems. 6 individual steps taken across the hills of dirt and building tops that belong to this place.

North France, 1914, the battle of the Great War, World War I. A period of conflict and devastation reaching its climax, especially in Europe. Not just with battle, but with strange like creatures that can only be described as the term, "decaying". Pale green discoloration and sunken in faces, glazed eyes, no thoughts to process, no words that can even be formulated. Just brain-dead animals with no purpose but to kill. The reason for the reanimates sparks something else entirely. The work is due to the creation of group 935...

935 was an organization of scientists. No one can really determine their true goals, but what can be said is that the power they hold in their place of origins, Germany. After discovering an unknown contaminate, they decided upon themselves to continue researching what this blue substance can be, only to discover that this substance holds more power than any element that can be found documented and they called it element 115...

Dr. Ludwig Maxis, a man of great knowledge who holds strength in Germany's foundation, known for being one of the founders of this specific assembly of scientists, was the individual behind alot of powerful creations that had only manifested into something sinister. Aside from Maxis, his partner of occupation, Dr. Edward Richtofen, a person of both brains and an undesirable charm, used the liquid divinium for his own twisted pleasures, which awoken a force that was much too strong to manage, hoards and hoards of the undead.

The need to capture this man was strong. he was dangerous but also talented in his own field, it being a practice of medicine and anatomical procedures. The name Edward Richtofen was feared by most. He wishes to keep it that way. He holds no remorse, no sympathy, and not a feeling of empathy can be found in his body. Down to the very last atom, he was filled with disparity, insanity, immorality, and psychopathic tendencies. This attention was grabbed by those who lay outside of this continent, gathering 3 soldiers from different parts of the world, Russia, Japan, and America.

The name of these allies were infamous from wence they came. The motherland sending their Red Army soldier, a man of strength, Nikolai Belinski. Japan sending their best Samurai warrior, one who holds true honor, part of the Japanese imperial Army, Takeo Masaki. Lastly, the American dream, a Yankee from North America, a USMC spy, "Tank" Thomas Dempsey. The 3 were sent on a mission to infiltrate and investigate further on the crimes and studies of Group 935, all having the same intentions to report back to the allied countries.

By coincidence, the three men happen to find themselves in the same exact situation, facing jeopardy and coming across hazardous trails just to infiltrate this single scientist. Having to dodge huge robotic walk cycles while running in very steep and wet dirt roads is not a simple task, especially when faced with countless numbers of the Living Dead. The soldiers took this advantage to put their skills to the test, only being one person after all, unaware of each other's existence thus far, they were on their own for the time being...that is until they reached the end of their open path, coming to a dead end which was some sort of broken down building.

Confusion was the only thing felt between the individuals within the premises. The three allies have the same idea to run into the damaged facility, trying to get at least somewhat of a break. Their energy went most towards dealing with their situation. They hadn't realized the other persons presence. Additionally, the atmosphere didn't help either. The mist and debris that filled the air because of their surroundings decreased their line of sight, though only for a moment. Once the air cleared up, and they finally had time to catch their breath, they all looked at each other almost in sync. All were startled, which caused them to quickly reach for their weapon in hand and point it towards one another. Dempsey held his revolver up and aimed it towards both men that stood relative close to him, "tch." He smacked his teeth, keeping his focus. Takeo held a pistol in hand, pulling back the hammer of the gun, ready to fire if necessary, holding his breath in the process to help his focus. Nikolai's grip on his own weapon was tight, trying to aim his shot gun both at once, grumbling under his breath. Being focused on one another, they didn't realize who stood before them towards the back center of the room. It was Dr. Edward richtofen himself, who at the moment was dealing with his own situation.

His hands were covered in blood as he stood upon a metalic table. His victim, who was now deceased, laying their cold was Maxis. He had removed the brain that once belonged to the lifeless individual, displaying his scalp and what seems to have been the top portion of his cranium that had been removed, exposing the inside of whats now a hollow skull. It seemed that at the moment, his head was in a daze. A daze that was recovered facing recollections...recollections of what? What was in this Doctors mind? He looked at his hands with confusion and then fixed his vision to see the men that stood in front of him, which by that time they all had their guns pointed right at him.

This caused a slight suprise to Edward. His eyes widened a bit in shock. Though truthfully, he was facing a bit of deja vu. He's seen this before. He knows how this plays out. before he can mutter a word, Thomas was the first to speak, "Alright, Doctor, time to give your shit up, you're coming with me." He glared, leaving no room for any sort of retraction. This caused Nikolai to furrow his brows and speak next, "We know of the the things you've done German. If you don't move now, we shoot." His accent was thick, though by the looks of it, Richtofen understood him quite well. Takeo was the last to break his silence, reading the situation and feeling himself tense up less, knowing the other two men were only there for the same purpose. He spoke, "You need to give up. Your evil behavior and acts of violence are at its end." There was not a thing said after Masaki's words left his lips, though it seemed the silence that was held onto the air around them was louder than anything that could have been said. After a moment that seemed to have gone on for far too long, the German scientist finally spoke, "well gentlemen, it seems you have...finally caught up to me, though Ich promise I-", he was trying to look for the right words to say. Something wasn't exactly right. There was a reason for his extraction that layed before him, it wasnt just for malicious purposes, but of course, that's hard to really say given the reputation this man has. "Well, doc, scapel cut your tongue?" Tank spoke with a hint of sarcasm and absolute disgust, awaiting this "reasoning" for his behavior. "Ich..." he sighs, "it isn't what you think, This was a necessity for me, and I understand that currently, we are in a very dire situation. Ich am not who you think I am." He tried to get his words out as much as he could, his mother tongue being extremely heavy. "This is not up for discussion. You have committed acts of treason. You are a bad man, Edward Richtofen", The Japanese soldier said with a bit of haste. Anticipation growing heavier by the minute.

Edward sighed and stepped away from his array of medical utensils. He put his hands up as in defeat and placed himself even closer to the three others despite him having no way of defense. "Ich promise you all, this isn't what you think is is. I am not here to cause more trouble than I have. I can not explain at the moment. This is extremely time sensitive." His eyes look back at theirs almost with plead, like he was innocent, though of course they took this as deception and a form of manipulation. "Bullshit Richtofen! We will shoot!" Belinski was getting extremely impatient. This caused the doctors head to shake slightly, "Please trust me, Ich am not here to cause anymore harm than I have. If you'd allow me to explain mein situation you'd understand that this was all necessary..." The three had daggering glares. They didn't say anything, allowing the German to continue. Richtofen sighs and mutters a few words under his breath, feeling a bit of pressure. He knows what he wants to say but can't exactly say it. Truthfully, he isn't sure how he should tell them, tell them the reality, the reality that this is only the beginning to a very painful outcome. He began to speak, saying what he possibly could that is, "Ich am not here to cause more disaster but the contrerary. Are you all aware of what 'Agartha' is?" When he said this, he looked at Tank in particular, which caused a bit of confusion, that being implied on his expression. "Agartha?" The marine spoke, lowering his weapon a bit, seeing that there's no active form of threat. "The hell is that?..." His action caused the rest to lower their guns as well, not wanting to cause more hostility than they must.

At this point, the men faced confliction. Dempsey was curious, though he had a job to do. Takeo hadn't any idea what Edward was referring to, awaiting the explanation that was yet to be provided. Nikolai crossed his arms, placing a puzzled expression on his face, "What is this, uh, place you speak of, eh?" Richtofen slowly lowered his hands, feeling confident enough to do so with the signs of possoble gun fire gone. He fixed his sleeves and cleared his throat which followed with what he was gonna say next, "well, you see, to put it simply, there is a lost little girl by the name of samantha Maxis. It's a very, very complicated scenario, but I needed the brain of my counterpart as it plays an important role in freeing her. While ich do not care too much for her, it also..." He stops to a moment, wondering if he should continue, perhaps a white lie? Maybe he can stretch the truth? He continues after a short pause, "it opens the gateway to a dimension referred to as Agartha. Agartha is very hard to describe aber it is important i do so. It would open up a pathway to many things, different universes, a plethora of timelines. Mein hope is to be able to be able to undo all that has been set into motion and explore more in the realm of science. Ich just desires a better outcome than how society greets us." Though to him, it sounded like a reasonable enough explanation,to the rest, he sounded insane. Perhaps the term Looney would make a much better description rather than just crazy.

Dempsey furrows his brows as he glares at the German. He has no intention of trusting this man or his words anytime soon. He was sure the other two felt the same given the fact that at a quick glance, the other two held their weapons with a stronger grip than they had a moment ago. Richtofen sensed that their patience was running thin. Before he could say anything else, a sound of a low groan was heard from a distance, one that seems to be getting closer by the minute. They knew those noises all too well. "Shit... Those meatsacks are hoarding up again." Dempsey said as he turned the direction of where the sounds were from and placed a few shots into the few zombies he saw were approaching. They dropped dead, though he noticed more behind the bodies that layed before him. Takeo and Nikolai stood their own ground as well, getting their own weapons to a proper position to aim and fire. Richtofen quickly took a towel that was laying to the side of the table he stood upon, wiping off whatever blood stains still lingered on his hands. Though, of course, unable to get all of it, he just threw the dirty rag on the ground and quickly pulled out the bowie knife from his side. "These creatures have not stopped forming around the vicinity. We need to get out of here!" His slight panic reached the others as they were occupied with their own, shooting a couple of rounds before having to reload. "Y-yeah? And where's that, huh Doctor?"

Before Edward can give the marine a clear answer, he is met with 4 creatures on his right, ready to lunge towards him. He quickly took his weapon and attempted to cut them down. Unsurprising, it wasn't causing much damage. Noticing the struggles the doctor was facing, Tank shot them down as soon as he got done with his own situation. "Now, can ya tell us?" Dempsey said in a huffed voice, becoming restless, noticing the numbers of zombies only growing. Richtofen nodded, "Ja, Ich needs you all to trust me. Can you do that?" His words gave the group a very uncertain feeling, the three of them all making the same expression of doubt. "If you don't want to die becoming their next meal, I suggest you follow me. Ich am aware of my reputoir, but you really have no option. We need to go now!" His growth and feeling in worry snaps the crew back to reality, realizing that Richtofen had a point. "We await your orders," Masaki said in a low voice, Nikolai agreeing with his Japanese counterpart. "Ya better not pull anything stupid, I'll blow your brains out!" The American said with aggravation, letting the Doctor take the lead despite his unwillingness to cooperate.

"Right. Come with mich." Edward walked out from behind the table that was placed in front of him, picking up a particular item, carefully wrapping it in cloth that layed near by. He looked around before walking up to one of the two metal doors. "This one." He mumbles, proceeding to kick it, causing it to open. A small look of relief appeared across his face as he walked out of the room. He began following the trail in front of him, picking up speed as he got further down. The path was all mud which made it a bit difficult to move through. He shouted to the others he assumed were following behind, "Be aware of the mud gentlemen! Not only is it incredibly slippery, but it decreases your speed therefore reducing stamina and im sure you know why that is not a good thing!" He himself was having trouble running through, feeling the soles of his shoes to become stuck with every step he took, only pulling him back as he attempted to pick up his own pace. The other three found themselves in the same situation as they were sprinting through the dirt. "Shit, couldn't have picked a better way to go could ya doc?" Tank threw to the other, not earning a response back. Richtofen heard him, he just didn't want to waste his breath.

After running for what seemed like 10 minutes, The scientist found himself in front of another metal door, kicking it open just like the other. The next room he was met with looked at bit similar to the other, though the area was more spacious. Entering, all four men were cautious, being mindful of any sudden movement. Letting their guard down at any moment will result in fatality. Edward walked upon a table that was covered in blueprints and writing. On the surface, there was an array of radios, systems, and an additional amount of items one may use for in depth research. Something else that caught his eye was an empty container. With this finding he quickly and carefully placed what he had obtained from his earlier extraction. Still being wrapped under a thin cloth, Edward placed maxis' brain inside of the opened holder and sealed it shut. "Es ist perfect..yes. this is good." He mumbled to himself and grabbed the item as soon as he wiped himself off. Tank noticed the others actions and raised a brow, "the hell is that for? You know somethin, your starting to really creep me the fuck out Richtofen." His words followed a face of disgust before walking up the bit of steps that led to an elevated floor.

Edward paid no attention to the marine as he was stuck in his own head. He continued to look around, his memory slowly coming back to him. "Ja..I've been here before.." he muttered before following Dempsey in his steps, though keeping a distance. Takeo found himself lurking amongst the different sets of radios wondering if they held any clues to help them in their current situation. He kept their locations in mind, not wanting to touch what he shouldnt incase it causes more harm than good. He stayed close to his Russian allie, noticing the other studying a shovel placed upon a nearby wall. "Maybe it holds purpose da?" He said to Masaki, unhooking it from the nail that kept it in place and gave it to him. "Perhaps this shovel will find it's use during our escapade.." Takeo said in response and placed it on his side. The two looked at eachother with understanding and followed after the American and the German.

The rest of the room was filled with gritted flooring rather than the familiar woodboards they found themselves on. The floor was connected to a machine that covered most of the area. The machinery looked like a power source, a generator. The floor had two symbols of the same, being labled "01" which could imply the possibility of being more than one around the vicinity. Once Edward noticed the rest were at attention, he spoke, "I have to turn on the generator, though Ich believe that this will cause a bit of commotion.." How he knew what happens next stems from more hidden memories he has yet to really discover. From what he can recall, the power surge causes the undead to spawn and cause disturbance. After a quick thought process, he turned on the machine, which confirmed his suspicions. He yelled out a warning, which brought the others at their feet. Tank thought it was odd that Edward knew what was bound happen, noting to question him later. For now, focusing on what's in front of him, He began shooting the zombies down with the other two doing the same. After what seems like forever, the generator was finally stabilized and had successfully powered on, which by their luck had stopped any more of the undead from spawning in. The four took a minute to catch their breath, gaining a response from the marine, "the hell..was those things. What the fuck just happened?!" After questioning their situation, Richtofen gave him a response he thought made the most sense. "The generator must be kept on in order to access whats around us. Each one is powered by element 115, and by mein guess there will be more approaching us in our path. The element is notable for its effect on the dead, hence why we found ourselves surrounded." Before Tank could respond Nikolai spoke up, "I don't know what plans you have for us German but we all have a mission to con-" "and how do you expect to continue if you don't know a way out? There are several things we must do hence why Ich must carry the brain of mein late scientist friend. From what I have read prior around the facility, we must obtain und put together a plethora of objects...und in order to do that I advise you listen to mich. I cannot tell you much of how I know this but Ich will say this, unfortunately there has been a change of plans within your party und whether dou like it or not I will have to assist you three for a while. Our mission thus far is to free samantha Maxis and open the gateway to Agartha." Dempsey sighed in frustration and gave in his own input, "Alright so we gotta not only follow the damn mad scientist but we have to trust and work together with ya? You must be more mad than I thought, I don't have any plans to work with y-" "und what choice do you have. As I mentioned to Nikolai, I don't think you have much of an option Dempsey." This caused both Belinski and Tank to back down, not just out of defeat but out of shock. Both we confused on how Edward knew who they were. Perhaps their identities were known even outside of their place of origins? They do have a strong reputation but not one too known to the common public. Nikolai played it off and went with the explanation that made the most sense which was explained prior. As for The marine. He wasn't gonna just downplay it. There was too many unanswered questions and he was gonna get an explanation from the German. Though for now to avoid conflict he left it alone.

The doctor took a minute to recover from all that had just happened, speaking up once he was ready. "Ich know this will be hard for you to all understand und I know that it's not easy to trust someone like mich, but I would like to remind you, I am not who you think I am..." He let those words linger for a while, piecing together what should be done next in his mind. They were in the middle of a battleground surrounded by countless numbers of the undead, trapped in a hell that can only be fled through one way, which at the moment was deemed impossible. For now, all they can do is move forward, and whether they want to accept it or not, Edward Richtofen was their only way out of this situation.

#call of duty #edward richtofen #black ops zombies #richtofen #black ops 3 #primis richtofen #tank dempsey #cod zombies #black ops 2 #Demspey #primis dempsey #richtofen x dempsey #Dempseyxrichtofen #origins #codorigins #cod fanfiction #zombiesfanfiction

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