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magicshopaholic · 8 months ago

Text

A Day in the Life

Summary: Namjoon and Kaya deal with the aftermath of their break-up. Dilara makes an uneasy realisation about her own relationship.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC, Namjoon x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst

Word count: 9.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, making out, sex, oral sex, jealousy

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a couple of months after Moving On.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "meet me in amsterdam" by RINI

taehyung masterlist | namjoon masterlist | main masterlist

It is sunny and hot; Yoongi can almost hear his skin sizzle.

“Put this on before you get sunburnt,” he says to Jimin, tossing him a bottle of sunscreen as he arrives at the spot where the rest of the group is. Jimin catches it and examines the label while providing an opinion of the brand that Yoongi elects to ignore. Jungkook responds instead and they proceed to bicker half-heartedly, while Taehyung lies on a deck chair next to them, jumping in only to contribute singular comments that add fuel to the fire.

Yoongi takes a seat next to them and takes off his t-shirt, glad for the shade under the umbrella. Ibiza is as warm as they say - but it’s also as busy as they say. He turns to check on Namjoon, who had been a few steps behind him, now crouched by the end of the steps that lead from their hotel to the private beach and peering interestedly at something in the sand.

He squints but before he can get a clearer picture of what it is, he feels a tap on his shoulder to see Jungkook returning the sunscreen to him. Yoongi squeezes a bit more onto his palm and turns to Seokjin on his other side.

“Hyung? Sunscreen?”

Seokjin, lying on his own chair with a pair of Raybans on his face and a streak of white sunscreen along the bridge of his nose, sighs without turning. “What’s the point, Yoongi?” he asks wryly. “We’re all just going to die one day anyway.”

Yoongi stares at him. “What?”

“Sunscreen isn’t the answer. It’s opportunity. Serendipity. It’s…” He takes a deep breath and exhales, still not turning, “... destiny.”

For a moment, Yoongi wonders if he’s being pranked, but then Jimin and Jungkook snort at Seokjin’s response and he decides he doesn’t want to know.

“Oi, Namjoon,” he says to the leader, who joins them then. “Sunscreen,” he states, tossing the bottle to Namjoon, who fumbles it and drops it.

“Thanks,” he mutters, sheepishly picking it up and shaking it before squeezing a dollop onto his palm. “Where’s… four, five, six - where’s Dilara?”

“Went to buy some drinks,” supplies Taehyung, golden-brown in a pair of red swimming trunks, sitting up gracefully and shaking out his shaggy black hair. “She should be back by now, though.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Spoken to Hobi yet?”

Namjoon nods, taking a seat under the second umbrella and rubbing the lotion along his arms. “He landed a little while ago. I asked him to meet Bang PD if he could, since he’s in Seoul anyway. Some investors at the building this week,” he adds, answering Yoongi’s raise of the eyebrows.

“He’s missing out on a beach weekend, though,” says Jimin earnestly. He turns to face the expanse of the brilliant blue ocean and the vast white sand of their private beach. “He would love this,” he adds forlornly.

“He’ll be here later this week. We can make the trip back up here if we have the time,” offers Namjoon, before taking off his tank top.

“Ooooh!”

The three other boys jeer at his naked torso and Yoongi joins in as well, glad to see Namjoon’s abashed smile, the dimple popping faintly on his left cheek. Next to him, even Seokjin cracks a smile.

“Shut up,” he replies dismissively, looking a bit ruffled but the dimple stays on his cheek. “Why aren’t you guys in the water?”

“Waiting for Dilara,” mutters Taehyung, reaching for his phone.

“There she is!” Jungkook exclaims, and they turn to see where he’s pointing at. Across the private beach, near the edge of where the general public is lounging on the sand, Yoongi spots Dilara, in a red bikini top and light blue denim shorts, carrying a plastic bag and wading through the sand.

Jungkook waves to her but she doesn’t notice; as they watch, she gets stopped by a tall, tan man in swimming trunks. A brief exchange of words occurs, full of smiles and animated gestures from him and a few seconds later, three more men join him and they stand together, keeping her in the middle.

“A very different looking fanbase than ours, I have to say,” observes Namjoon, as the first one hands his phone to a stranger and they all pose for a picture.

“You don’t think they’ll follow her here and see us, do you?” Jungkook asks, sounding slightly anxious.

Yoongi chuckles, agreeing with Namjoon. “I think we’re okay. They don’t look like anyone who’s going to recognise us,” he adds, glancing at Taehyung. He can only see a sliver of the younger member’s face as he watches his girlfriend, his body very still.

Dilara’s hands are occupied with the bag and a peace sign she makes while the guys stand around her, arms around each other and grinning into the camera. Yoongi can’t be sure because she’s wearing sunglasses, but it seems as though she’s looking over in their direction. A couple of snaps later, Dilara waves to the fans and continues in her initial direction.

“Okay, I have cokes and lemonades,” she begins when she reaches them, tossing a yellow can so it lands neatly next to Seokjin on the towel, “beers,” she adds, handing one to Namjoon and Yoongi each, “and diet coke,” she finishes, handing one each to Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung, the latter of whom pauses for a fraction of a second before he takes it.

“Coke?” Jimin wrinkles his nose exaggeratedly behind his Dior sunglasses. “Toss me a beer, woman,” he says, switching to English.

Without missing a beat, Dilara chucks a cold can at his lap which he catches right as it lands on his crotch; she gives him a wide smile when he winces and mutters a tight “Thanks”. She pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and clicks open her own can of beer.

“Cheers, everyone,” she says, and all of them respond with garbled Cheers, clinking cans here and there. She takes a sip of her beer and nudges Taehyung’s knee. “Hey,” she says lightly.

A moment passes before he replies. “Hey,” he murmurs, scooting slightly so she can sit next to him and accepting a peck on the cheek.

“Your fans follow you here?” Jimin asks teasingly.

“Doubt it,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s just mid-season excitement. We’re in the western Europe - it’s the heartland of F1. Oh, and by the way - huge number of crabs all along the border,” she warns them, shuddering. “Popping out of the sand with zero warning.”

Yoongi turns to Namjoon. “Is that what you were doing back there?” he asks, pointing towards the steps to the hotel.

“Maybe,” he answers sheepishly. “They were really cute,” he adds, sounding slightly defensive.

“You’re possibly the only person on earth who thinks that, Namjoon,” says Seokjin from behind them.

Namjoon considers this, then shrugs. “They’re an acquired taste. Kaya hated them, too. Always found them creepy.”

There’s a pause where a few of them exchange looks, all of them surely thinking the same thing. Yoongi can’t remember the last time Namjoon brought up Kaya in casual conversation, but he can only presume it’s progress.

Fortunately, Dilara speaks before it gets fishy. “I agree. I think it’s the way they scuttle?”

The conversation continues under the shade of the umbrellas, the drinks feeling nice and cold. Yoongi is glad for the weekend break; it’s rare during tour and despite the fact that the coming week is going to be packed with events and appearances until the weekend concert (and race), it’s nice to have a couple of days of rest.

“Namjoon hyung, do you think the company will let me fly Sooah out to Japan for the encore concert?” Jimin asks after a while.

“I think so. We can ask the travel team,” he assures him. “You may have to fill out a form and everything, but it should be okay. Do you need tickets, too, or will she join us backstage?”

“She prefers watching it from the audience,” replies Jimin, pouting slightly. “Says it’s a better experience.”

“Oh, I agree,” pipes up Dilara, with Taehyung’s arm loose around her shoulders. “Can I get a ticket, too, for the next one?”

“Wait, you don’t like being backstage?” Jungkook asks, sounding flabbergasted.

“Of course I like it, but it’s not the same,” she argues, while a hint of a smile flickers on Taehyung’s face. “The energy outside is something else. Especially during your love you so bad moments,” she adds, winking and Jungkook. “Hearing the screams backstage isn’t quite the same, JK.”

Jungkook’s ears go a brilliant shade of red while Jimin guffaws. Taehyung nudges her. “Come into the water with me?”

“Yeah, sure.” She nods and they both stand up, Taehyung taking off his sunglasses and setting his drink on the plastic table between the chairs. Dilara nonchalantly drops her shorts, revealing plain red bikini bottoms; Yoongi looks away out of respect and notices Namjoon do the same, while Jungkook begins fidgeting with something on the edge of his chair. Taehyung and Dilara step out into the sun and begin walking towards the ocean, holding hands, while her long hair curls down her back.

“They look happy.”

Yoongi turns to see Seokjin sitting up finally and reaching for his drink. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

He shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t answer. Yoongi glances at the happy couple again, now jogging towards the water, Taehyung’s hands on her waist and faint laughter carrying over to them as they splash into the shallow waves.

“The water looks amazing,” remarks Jungkook, his eyes on the waves. “Jimin, come on.”

“My beer isn’t -”

But Jungkook steers him to stand up and Jimin tries to down as much of his beer as he can. “Jesus, slow down,” says Namjoon, frowning.

“You should join, too, hyung,” says Jimin, sputtering slightly. “Show off that body,” he teases, poking his shoulder before he and Jungkook race towards the water where Taehyung and Dilara are already drenched, splashing water at each other and laughing.

“I need to work after this.” Namjoon muses, almost to himself. “Can’t spend too long here.”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, now back on his back. “Give yourself a break, Namjoon. The company isn’t going to come crashing down if you take an hour off.”

“But -”

“Everything isn’t your responsibility,” he interrupts. Namjoon sighs but says nothing, turning to Yoongi instead.

“Coming?”

“In a bit.” Yoongi gives him a wave as he stands up and begins walking towards the water. His shoulders look wider in the sun, despite the weight he’s clearly lost lately. The others are midway through a game of chicken, with Dilara and Jimin on Taehyung and Jungkook’s shoulders respectively. Yoongi smiles involuntarily as he watches them; it’s nice to see them letting loose, especially Namjoon.

He leans back and reaches for his phone, snapping a picture of all five of them in the water, candid and happy. He turns to Seokjin.

“You’re not going, hyung?”

Seokjin doesn’t answer for a moment. “I’ll go if you go.”

Yoongi considers this, then grins. “I’ll wait you out, old man. You know you can’t resist the water,” he quips, laughing when Seokjin chuckles.

“Someone’s got to watch our stuff,” he reasons, gesturing to their phones and discarded clothes.

“Good thing we’ve got security.” Yoongi cocks his head towards the two casually dressed bodyguards lounging a little ways away, sipping on a pearly white drink each. “Come on, take a break, hyung. You deserve it.”

Seokjin is silent for a bit, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Looks like a lot of splashing,” he mutters, before sighing.

Yoongi gives him a sympathetic look. He’s not sure, but there’s only one thing lately that’s capable of ruining his mood this much. “For the kids,” he urges gently, glancing at the ocean again.

“Fine.” Seokjin exhales in annoyance and places his can on the table before standing up.

“That’s it,” says Yoongi encouragingly, standing up as well. The sun is hot and the water looks magnificent. “For the kids,” he repeats.

Seokjin huffs as they step out from under the umbrellas and pad their way down the sand. “Sometimes I hate the kids,” he mutters, squinting in the sun.

“I know. Me, too.”

—

Dilara makes her way up the steps to the poolside, the ends of her hair dripping water down her side. The villa booked for them is away from the main hotel, as private as possible, for which she’s more than glad. There’s the private beach and the private pool and she and Taehyung were always guaranteed a private room.

She glances at her phone, still not seeing the email she’s been waiting for since yesterday. Clicking her tongue softly, she walks around the side of the house to see Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook sitting on two deck chairs, huddled around something. Drenched hair and drops of water still on their shoulders; they’ve just finished a swim. Resisting the urge to bite down on Taehyung’s shoulder to surprise him, she veers instead for the member closest to her with his back to her.

“What’s up, guys?” she says loudly, suddenly placing her hands on Jungkook’s shoulders and leaning over him to see them peering into someone’s phone.

Taehyung and Jimin start, but Jungkook jumps. “Mweoya!” he gasps, clutching his chest. “Don’t - don’t do that,” he stutters, his face flushing.

Dilara immediately raises her hands. “Whoa. Sorry.” She frowns as he nods jerkily. “So… what are you guys doing?” she asks again, this time in a normal volume, sitting next to Jimin.

All three of them exchange looks before Taehyung shrugs. “Come on, we can tell her.”

She raises her eyebrows as Jungkook, who’s holding the phone, brings it closer to her. “I found this on Twitter,” he confesses in a low voice and plays a video. It’s barely ten seconds long; it takes Dilara about half the video to realise who the subject is.

“Is - is that Kaya?” she exclaims, wincing when they all shush her in unison. “Sorry - but… what is that? Is that her at uni? Getting mobbed?”

“It’s not that many people,” points out Jimin, but even he sounds doubtful. “And they’re not, like… crowding her. They’re just…”

“Following her,” finishes Dilara. “So her identity is kind of confirmed, then,” she murmurs, already feeling bad for Kaya. She can see Jimin’s point: it’s not that bad. It’s about five or six people turning as she passes by them, dressed casually with a coffee in her hand, and calling out her name in different tones of surprise and excitement. Kaya turns and faces the camera only for a moment, but it’s unmistakably her.

“Good thing Namjoon hyung doesn’t go on Twitter,” says Taehyung, nibbling on a fingernail.

Dilara’s head snaps up. “Wait… you’re not going to keep this from him.” When none of them answer, she tilts her head, shoulders falling. “Guys. You can’t be serious.”

“But he’s been in such a good mood these days,” reasons Jungkook, eyes wide. “Okay, not good, but better. I don’t want to…”

“Yeah, I get that, but this is important. And he’ll find out anyway,” she points out. “Come on, you can’t not tell Namjoon.”

“Tell me what?”

In the most fortuitous of moments, all four of them turn to see Namjoon approaching them, in fresh clothes and wet silvery hair. He looks only mildly suspicious at seeing them huddled together, almost as if expecting to catch them in some act of mischief.

“Um…”

The three boys look at each other, and then at Dilara. She gives them a look, knowing that regardless of Namjoon’s mood, he has a right to know. He should know.

Jungkook sighs and hands the phone to Namjoon. “We found this today.”

Dilara almost regrets her decision when she sees Namjoon’s face fall a bit more with each passing second. Next to her, Jimin scowls. “Knew we shouldn’t have told her,” he mutters softly, wincing when she slaps his shoulder lightly.

“This…” Namjoon clears his throat. “This was today?”

“Probably,” answers Jungkook slowly.

“So not too long ago,” finishes Taehyung, biting his lip. “Sorry, hyung.”

Namjoon seems to snap out of it and hands the phone back to Jungkook. “Thanks. For letting me know.” Without waiting for a response, he heads back into the house.

“Think he’ll talk to her?” Taehyung asks after a while, once they’ve finished another swim and are going into the kitchen.

“I think he already is,” replies Dilara, cocking her head towards the garden where Namjoon is sitting at a small wicker table, phone on the table and ear pods in his ear as he runs his hands over his face.

Namjoon exhales as the phone rings, his heart beating rapidly in a mixture of fear and anticipation. The video was short - too short. It told him nothing - nothing about who the people were, why it was suddenly a frenzy, whether she was officially recognised now, and how she is taking it. Does she hate him? Is she even angrier with him than she had been two months ago? Or is she finally coming around to understand why he did what he did?

Except… why isn’t it working? It’s the part that’s nagging at him uncomfortably, small but sharp in his brain: why is it still happening? Why hasn’t the world left her alone, even after he has?

“Hello?”

His heart jolts; she sounds wary. “Hey,” he says softly. God, he’s missed her voice. Recorded videos on his phone don’t do it justice.

There’s a pause. “Hey.”

He needs to speak, but it’s too hard. Defeat, anger and longing - it’s an unholy mess.

“I’m, uh… I saw the video.”

“What video?”

Namoon frowns. “The… video on Twitter. Outside your college? You, a bunch of strangers calling out your name? Mobbing you on your way to class?” he adds, running a hand through his hair and remembering the feeling of beng crowded at airports.

“Oh. That. Wait, there’s a video?” She sounds more exasperated than anything.

“Yeah. Didn’t show a whole lot, though.”

Kaya sighs; she’s probably in her cabin in the college, or she’s hopefully returned to her apartment. A moment later, the thought of that comforts him less.

“Well. Nothing really happened. I wasn’t mobbed,” she clarifies, but doesn’t elaborate.

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of his mouth without warning because this, more than anything, is what he needs to know.

“Yeah,” she answers softly. “Nothing happened,” she repeats. “I told them I had to get to class and they left me alone. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but it’s nothing like that.”

The picture in his mind of her frightened face, of her getting pulled, harassed and crowded in her personal space comes to an immediate pause.

“I’m glad.” He bites his lip, feeling his throat hurt as a lump forms slowly. He doesn’t want the conversation to end and since she hasn’t hung up yet, he can only presume she doesn’t either. “How are you?”

“Namjoon,” she whispers, “what are you doing?”

“I’m just asking you how you are,” he says quickly. “Is that so bad?”

She takes a deep breath and it sounds like she’s about to argue, but then she simply sighs again. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m…” He can’t lie. He’s been doing it constantly, putting on a smile, performing his heart out, joking on television. But he can’t lie to her. I’m a fucking mess, and I love you.

Kaya waits, and it’s clear she’s picked up on the pause. “You looked thin the last time I saw you.”

He remembers the last time. “It’s tour,” he murmurs.

“Yeah. Okay.” There’s a shuffling sound at her end, like she’s standing up. “I have to go. I have a meeting and I have to drop off a draft to Adam’s office before that.”

She says it absently, and it seems to take her a few moments to register the dead silence on the line. Namjoon says nothing; there’s the white hot anger in his stomach he’s tried to ignore that’s returning, and the last thing he wants is to say something he might regret.

“Namjoon -”

“Okay,” he says tightly. “Bye, Kaya.” He hangs up before either of them can say anything else.

—

“So… he hung up?”

“Why is that so shocking?”

Dilara rolls onto her stomach and frowns, flipping her hair to the side so her phone is against her ear. “I don’t know. He’s the one who called you. Because he was worried?”

“Isn’t he always?” Kaya says wryly. “But this time, he actually had nothing to be worried about.”

. “Are you sure? I’m not going to overreact; you can tell me the truth.”

“I am, though. I saw the video - it looks worse than it was,” she explains. “I don’t think he believes me, though. I don’t think he wants to, because then all of this will have been for nothing.”

Dilara hums sympathetically, somewhat glad that despite her break-up with Namjoon, Kaya hasn’t stopped speaking with her out of association. She turns to glance at the bathroom, the sliding door of which is wide open, with only a blurry glass door blocking her view of her boyfriend showering inside. She bites her lip, shamelessly admiring his slender naked figure as he runs his hands through his wet hair.

“... in any case. I thought he’d be moving on by now.”

She winces, realising she’s missed part of Kaya’s sentence. “Um… well, he’s definitely not moving on. Honestly, he just seems really sad.”

“I know he is,” says Kaya, to Dilara’s surprise. “He was trying to act so calm and collected when he came to my apartment with his stupid goodbye, but…” She sighs, a mixture of frustration and sadness. “I saw that concert clip you sent me.”

“The Rome one?”

Kaya confirms it. The clip in question had been Dilara’s attempt at making Kaya feel better, except now she has no idea if it’s had the opposite impact. It was a short one, of Namjoon on stage during a concert, breaking down unexpectedly. He’d done it in the most Namjoon way possible, with silent tears slipping out of his eyes, a stoic posture and forced smile, until one by one, all the boys had hugged him, starting with Jungkook.

The comments, of course, attributed it to anything and everything, from missing his parents to appreciating his Italian fans to his impending military service. But Dilara, who had actually been backstage at that concert, knew which pictures he’d been scrolling through earlier that day, of which Roman holiday and with whom.

She hasn’t mentioned any of this to Kaya, but something tells her she may have guessed anyway.

“Yeah, well. I think part of him is mad at me, too.”

“What does he have to be mad about?”

“I don’t do well with break–ups,” she mutters. “I say things and I get defensive. Sometimes I have a rebound problem.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I just don’t know what to say anymore, when he calls me like this. I mean, I know he’s sad,” she says emphatically. “I can hear it in his voice, but -” She scoffs and she sounds sad, too, and helpless. “What do I do about it? He’s doing it to himself, you know?”

“Yeah…” Dilara hears the water stop in the bathroom. “If it helps, I think he’s channelling a lot of it into music and stuff. Like a true artist,” she adds wryly. “He performed an unreleased song at last night’s concert and the audience went nuts. I mean, it was a really good song,” she admits.

“Yeah? What’s it called?” she asks, sounding only mildly interested.

“He didn’t say. I don’t think it has a title, but the internet is calling it Aphrodite based on the lyrics. You know someone is in deep when they’ve gone down the Greek mythology route,” she remarks.

Kaya sighs but doesn’t respond, changing the subject instead. “Can we talk about something else? How was Montreal?”

“Shit race,” answers Dilara, rolling her eyes. “I know wet races are a hoot to watch or whatever, but the track in Montreal becomes like fucking ice. I have to make up for my P7 in Barcelona and Silverstone next month, that’s all,” she mutters, turning back on her back and adjusting her red bikini top, feeling her mood sour.

Kaya seems to realise this, for she quickly responds. “It looked like you had fun at Ricciardo’s birthday party this week, though. The pictures are all over Instagram.”

Dilara chuckles. “Yeah, it was fun. Honestly, it’s a good thing he always celebrates it in Ibiza so I was already in Spain this weekend. And Lexie and Chris and Fred were invited, too, so all in all it was quite fun.”

“Oh, are those the people in this picture? The one you posted yesterday?” Kaya asks, and it’s clear she’s pulled up the picture on her phone.

“Yeah. You should meet them when you’re in London in July.”

“Sure. Which one is Chris?”

“Chris Park? The one that’s not the blond German,” she quips.

“Ha ha,” replies Kaya sarcastically, before pausing. “He’s cute.” She scoffs when Dilara makes an exaggerated gagging sound. “Oh, come on, you have to be blind to not admit he’s hot.”

“Objectively speaking, I accept that he’s good looking in an obvious way,” she admits.

“Yeah, obvious hotness is the worst.”

Dilara laughs. “Fair enough. He’s not really my type, though. My type is more… classic,” she says, smirking as Taehyung exits the bathroom in nothing but a towel around his waist. “High cheekbones, artsy,” she lists, maintaining eye contact with him and nodding when he silently points at himself questioningly.

“Types can be fluid,” argues Kaya, but Dilara barely hears her. Stopping at her feet, Taehyung places a knee on the bed and crawls up towards her.

Biting her lip in excitement, she starts to interrupt Kaya but Taehyung, face smooth and more handsome than ever, gives her a small shake of the head, indicating to her to continue her call.

“Oh - uh… what do you mean?” Dilara asks into the phone, peering at him as he presses a soft kiss to her bare sternum and moves lower before tugging at the strings of her red bikini bottom so the knots open with ease. Nudging her legs apart, he pushes her knees up and kisses the skin just above her slit.

“Fuck,” she mutters, realising a moment later that she’s still on the phone. “I mean… fuck, yeah. You’re right. Of course.”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That weird interruption. Is there a low signal where you are?”

“No. Or probably.” Dilara swallows, only half-aware of what she’s saying, the rest of her mind preoccupied with Taehyung’s head between her legs, his tongue finding its way along her wetness, down to her clit. “I’m just - oh - just… agreeing with you.” Her toes curl on the sheets as shivers start forming from her feet up her legs.

“Yeah? About what?”

“About the - about… what we were talking about. About Chris, and the - oh, God!” She squeezes her eyes shut as Taehyung sucks suddenly at her clit, without warning.

Kaya gasps. “Oh, my God. Is - is Taehyung with you?”

Dilara is starting to unravel. “I - in a sense,” she admits, snaking her other hand down to run it through his thick hair and lifting her hips up slightly.

“Oh, God!” she exclaims, sounding horrified. “You know what? Call me when you’re… done,” she says quickly, before hanging up.

Dilara nods absently, eyes fluttering shut and letting the phone fall from her hand as Taehyung devours her, one hand firm around her thigh and the other coming up to slide into her folds, brushing over her clit while his tongue stays inside her. She’s in danger of being overstimulated but it’s so sweet, so electric that the sharp sensation only flows through the rest of her body.

“Yes, yes, right there…”

The orgasm is right there, within reach. A few more seconds of relentless tongue action while she cries out for him not to stop and it crashes over her like a wave of the ocean, her back arched and head thrown back on the pillow as he licks her through it, not letting her go even for a moment until she stutters his name.

“Come - come here,” she murmurs, head spinning and stars in her eyes as he emerges, hair dry but the bottom of his face slick with her juices. Wiping his mouth conspicuously on the back of his hand, he towers over her, eyes dark as he watches her catch her breath.

She raises her arms and he lowers himself to kiss her. The aftershocks of her orgasm are still fading away; she lets him pull her close, loving the feel of his naked body against hers, knowing for certain now that he’d seen her earlier today when she’d clicked a picture with that group of fans. Those many men, that much exposed skin and the close proximity in which they’d all surrounded her - it was just enough for a reaction.

“Hey, beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling away but staying close. He props his head up on his palm and smiles down at her, a little satisfied.

“Hey,” she says, her breathing slowly returning back to normal. “I think you just rocked my world.”

Taehyung’s smile gets wider but he visibly tries to suppress it, tossing his hair out of his eyes. “My pleasure. Must be because I’m your type, no?”

It takes Dilara a moment to realise what he’s referring to. “Oh. That.” She chuckles. “Totally my type,” she agrees.

“And what’s that?”

“My type? I dunno. Sexy. Romantic. Smart but not arrogant. Just a little pretentious,” she adds, grinning when he rolls his eyes. “Able to take control when he’s a little jealous,” she adds in a murmur, running a finger down his chest and reaching up to brush her lips against his. “Knowing every inch of my body better than anyone,” she finishes, kissing him again.

He kisses her back, slow and affectionate, and rolls on top of her. “So Chris isn’t your type?”

“God, no.” Dilara wrinkles her nose and Taehyung rolls off her, resuming his position on his side. “Kaya saw his picture on my Instagram and said she thought he was hot. I told her she could see for herself when she comes to London next month.”

“Chris? Wait, you told Kaya about him?” Taehyung frowns.

“Yeah… why?”

“Because he may not be your type, but he seems pretty close to Kaya’s type,” he points out.

“What?” Dilara squints. “No way.”

“Really? Tall, buff, straight hair? Korean?” He raises his eyebrows. “That doesn’t remind you of anyone we know?”

Dilara rolls her eyes. “That’s a little reductive. She can’t just go out and find another Kim Namjoon on the street, you know?”

“He doesn’t have to be Namjoon, he just has to look like him.” Shaking his head, Taehyung pulls up the picture on his phone. “You really don’t see the resemblance?”

“No. Just - okay, maybe the body structure. And the hair,” she admits uneasily. “And the voice, kind of. Okay, but that’s crazy. She’s not going to just suddenly be attracted to someone that looks like her ex to get over her break-up.” But her voice trails off slightly at the end and she looks up at Taehyung hopefully. “Right?”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Namjoon is going to kill you,” he states.

“If you let him, then we’ve got bigger problems than Kaya’s dating life,” she snaps. “Besides, you might be overthinking this, okay? They’ve never even met. All she did was see a picture and compliment him. As someone who’s on fifty thousand lockscreens at this moment, you should know that.”

Taehyung gives her an unimpressed look as her phone pings. She reaches over to see a message from Kaya.

Kaya [14:12]

Hey, whenever you’re free, can you send me your friend Chris’s number if he’s okay with it? Thanks.

Dilara stares at the screen as Taehyung reads the message out loud from over her head. “Fuck,” she mutters, dropping her head into her hands. “Namjoon is going to kill me.”

Taehyung, his lips pressed against her shoulder from where he’s peering into her phone, nods and pats her arm. “I won’t let him. I promise.”

She turns around to face him. “Really? Because I may just have driven his ex-girlfriend into the arms of - oh, my God, Lexie is going to kill me, too.” She groans and covers her face, ignoring Taehyung’s low chuckle as he pulls her to him.

“Don’t overthink,” he instructs her kindly. “Come on, go take a shower. Yoongi hyung wants us to go pick up stuff for dinner - he texted me a whole list but I got the car keys, too. I’ll take you out on a nice drive.” He slaps her backside affectionately.

Dilara sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the bed and heading for the bathroom, untying and dropping her red bikini top on the way. Once she’s out, sand washed away and hair smelling nice, she walks back into the bedroom to see Taehyung in the exact same position she left him in, comfortably naked on his back and scrolling through his phone.

“Babe, can you charge my phone?” she asks him as she rummages through her suitcase for clothes. “I’m waiting on an email.”

“The same one?” Taehyung purses his lips sympathetically when she nods, reaching over to plug her phone into the bedside charger. “Didn’t they say they’d get back by now?”

“They said yesterday,” she complains, “although I’m hoping it’s a timezone thing and it’ll come today.” Pulling on a tank top over cotton shorts, she turns towards the mirror, finger-combing her wet curls. “Ugh, forget it,” she mutters. “They’re just going to curl by themselves anyway.”

“You look beautiful,” he says from behind her. “Always do.” He returns her smile in the mirror. “Do you want to go out now? It might help get your mind off this.”

“Yeah, it might. It’s not a big deal either way,” she adds, shrugging. “I mean, would it be good if I got it? Sure. But it’s not like it’s - wait, I think that’s it,” she breaks off quickly, spotting the notification on her phone as it lights up. She hurries across the room to the bedside table and unplugs her phone, swiping up on the screen.

“Okay…” Dilara opens it and scans through the initial text, while Taehyung sits up and pulls on his boxers, keeping his eyes on her the entire time. “Yes!” she yells in excitement. “I got it!”

“You did?”

“Yes! Calvin Klein fall campaign, in the fucking flesh,” she exclaims, her heart hammering in excitement. “Congratulations on becoming a part of the Calvin Klein family, blah blah blah… oh, here it is - the fall/winter campaign which will be launched in the month of September, celebrating a milestone of the brand… joining global ambassadors including Justin Bieber, Hailey Bieber - holy shit - Kendall Jenner, Jungkook of BTS -“ They exchange a knowing look, “Bella Hadid…” She trails off as she scans the rest of the list, something in her heart coming to a standstill.

“Lara?”

Dilara locks her phone and tucks it into her back pocket. “Nothing. It’s great.” She turns away before she can start to dissect Taehyung’s expression, the understanding settling in of the one detail neither of them had mentioned out loud since her conversation with Calvin Klein had begun.

“I’m really happy for you,” he says from behind her, voice soft and - she doesn’t want to dwell on it - slightly guilty. At that moment, there’s a knock on the door and Dilara immediately opens it to see Jungkook of BTS.

“Hey,” he says, looking a bit surprised. “Sorry to, er… interrupt. Yoongi hyung wants to marinate the meat before dinner and Namjoon hyung asked if we could also pick up some wine…” He raises his eyebrows, eyes wide. “I don’t want to go alone so do one of you want to come along?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” answers Dilara, bustling around to find a pair of slippers and grabbing her bag.

“What about Jimin?” Taehyung asks, pulling on a tank top.

“Yoongi gave him a giant watermelon to cut,” snickers Jungkook. “I thought about helping him but it’s more fun this way.”

“Sounds like he needs your help more than I do,” says Dilara, glancing at Taehyung. “I can go pick up the dinner stuff. Where are the keys?”

“Um, in my shorts. But -“

Dilara picks up his tan shorts from the pile of clothes next to the bed and shakes them out to catch the set of car keys that fall out. “Text me Yoongi’s list?” she asks. “Let me know if any of you want anything else. We’ll be back in a bit.”

Without waiting for him to nod, she exits the bedroom, shutting the door and leaving with Jungkook.

—

An hour or so later, Dilara slips into the tiny study, a glass of white wine in her hand. Namjoon glances away from his laptop and gives her a small smile, waving her inside.

“I heard you’re in the mood for wine?” she says, placing the glass next to his laptop.

“Wow, thanks.” He takes a whiff of it and nods. “I don’t know if I should be drinking while I’m working, though,” he adds, looking uneasy.

“You’re on vacation. You can have a drink. Come on, just one,” she persuades him, sliding the glass slowly towards him.

Namjoon gives her a look. “You’re a terrible influence,” he informs her, picking up the glass. “Cheers,” he says, and clinks his glass with the can of beer she’s holding. He takes a sip of the wine and sighs. “Fuck, that’s good. Are the mojito mixes in the fridge?”

Dilara pauses. “We didn’t buy mojito mixers. Shit, I knew we were forgetting something. But I can go out and get some, no problem,” she says quickly, nodding.

“Oh, hey, no. Don’t be silly,” says Namjoon, shaking his head. “It’s not a big deal. I can go out myself. Don’t worry about it.”

She nods slowly, hesitating. “Um… you okay?”

Her tone seems to indicate exactly what she’s talking about. Namjoon lowers his gaze before nodding. “Fine. I think. Just worried,” he murmurs after a moment.

Dilara stares inside her can, seeing nothing but dark. “If it makes you feel any better, I really think it wasn’t a big deal. The video made it seem a lot worse than it was.”

He bites his lip. “Yeah. That’s what she said, too.”

She nods, not really knowing what else to say. She considers leaving but then Namjoon speaks again.

“Do you talk to her?”

“M-hm.”

Namjoon’s shoulders relax a bit. “How is she?”

Dilara shrugs. “About the same as you, I think.” When all he does is scoff softly and look away, she abandons her plan to leave him alone. “Can I just ask…” She waits until he looks back up at her, giving her permission, “... is it worth it? Leaving, for her sake?”

To her surprise, Namjoon doesn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know yet,” he admits. “She’s been hurt before. And there’s a reason idols don’t talk about dating. Ever. It used to be out of obligation but now… it just makes more sense to keep that part of your life private. We don’t do it for fun; we do it because it’s just better that way. I can’t let her get hurt again,” he says quietly, lowering his head.

“But she didn’t get hurt,” points out Dilara. “They didn’t do anything to her.”

He looks like he’s about to argue but then thinks the better of it. “It’s not a chance I want to take.”

As much as she thinks he’s trying to convince himself more than her regarding his break-up, a different part of his spiel occurs to Dilara. Absently, she reaches for the white-gold ring around her neck, the metal warm from the sun outside.

“I’m sure you know what you’re doing,” she ventures carefully, “but I just hope you don’t regret it. Either of you.”

“You think I might?”

I think you are. But Dilara knows she would never say that out loud to Namjoon. “I think… that when Taehyung and I broke up, the most difficult part of it was going back to normal.”

He tilts his head. “How long did it take?”

“Not long at all. That was what was difficult about it. We lived in different countries, had completely different circles, so going back to normal… it took a surprisingly short amount of time,” she says, observing the point dawning on him. “Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t happy, but… honestly, if it weren’t for the Red Bull and BTS partnership and living with him and having him in my space every single day for two months, begging me to take him back… I don’t know if we’d be together right now.”

“No offence, but I think you and Taehyung are a little more dramatic than most,” he points out.

She shrugs sheepishly. “Fair enough. If you recall, I did date an arsehole mechanic just to get back at Tae.”

The silence that follows is still. Dilara suddenly remembers Kaya asking for Chris’s number and her heart jolts in anxiety, but then she puts that out of her mind; there is no way Namjoon can possibly know about that.

“You know what,” she says after a moment, more to break the silence than anything, “I’m going to go get those mojito mixes right now, so we can put them in the fridge.”

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” he starts to say, but she shakes her head and walks backwards out of the room.

“It’s no problem. Really. I like driving,” she adds, holding up the keys and smiling. “It’s my fault we forgot them, anyway. I was distracting Jungkook with a really bad impression of Batman. But it’s okay, I got it.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “It’s really hot outside.”

“Good thing the car and the store are air conditioned.” She steps out the door and peeks in one last time. “No mistake is so bad that it can’t be fixed.”

—

Taehyung enters the open kitchen, hands in his pockets, to see Dilara, Jungkook and Yoongi putting away groceries. Yoongi is holding up a packet of meat and muttering something to Jungkook in Korean, while Dilara is pouring out glasses of something light pink.

She notices him first. “Hey,” she says, holding his gaze for a moment before looking away.

“Hey,” he murmurs, not paying attention to the other two. He’s about to stand beside her but thinks better of it, opting to stand opposite her instead with the counter between them. “You were gone for a while.”

“I had to run back and get mojito mixers. Forgot them the first time.” She finishes pouring a glass and slides it in front of him. “We got pink lemonade,” she says, sucking a bit off her thumb and turning around to place the carton back in the fridge.

Taehyung leans forward on the counter and observes her in silence, knowing he can’t say anything to her while Yoongi and Jungkook are here.

As if on cue, Jungkook seems to notice him just then. “Hyung! Did Dilara tell you the good news? About Calvin Klein?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately; he notices Dilara stiffen momentarily but continuing to move things around in the fridge. “Yep, I was there when she got the email,” he says. “It’s fantastic.”

He doesn’t think Jungkook would’ve put two and two together, and neither does he think Dilara would’ve even mentioned the elephant in the room that had existed since she’d first told Taehyung about Calvin Klein considering her.

“Jungkook,” says Yoongi after a moment. “Come help me with something.”

“What?”

“Just come.” Tugging him by the t-shirt, he leads Jungkook out of the kitchen.

Left alone, Taehyung keeps watching his girlfriend. As though feeling his eyes on her, she closes the fridge and turns around.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I was going out again.”

“It’s okay,” he says softly. He takes a sip of the lemonade and almost gags; it’s almost sickly sweet. Looking up to see her raising her eyebrows, he clears his throat. “It’s nice. Syrupy.”

She frowns, seeming partly amused. “I, uh… I talked to Namjoon,” she says.

“Really?” Taehyung is surprised; he didn’t think Dilara was the type to confront Namjoon about his personal life. Much as she admired him, he was sure the leader also intimidated her a little.

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to but he seemed really down and, I don’t know…” She shrugs, going back to unpack the two remaining brown bags of groceries. “You know, I was going through a break-up last year, too,” she says innocently, “and he gave me a lot of advice about how to deal with my ex-boyfriend at the time.”

“Interesting,” says Taehyung seriously, moving around the counter to help her with the groceries. “Tell me more.” He glances at her out of the corner of his eye to see half a smile creep up on her face.

“No way,” she says instead. “That was a private conversation, and it’s going to stay that way.”

“What?” he exclaims in mock-outrage. “No, you know what? Whatever he said, it seems like it worked for me. Or… this mysterious… sexy, romantic ex of yours that’s your type apparently,” he quips, his stomach flipping when she rolls her eyes but smiles anyway.

“I don’t know if I agree with him,” she says after a moment. “She told me he broke up with her because he thought she wasn’t safe with him. And he said that that’s why celebrities - specifically, idols -,” she points out, “- don’t talk about their relationships and flat-out lie to the press when asked. But how is that even a relationship then? If you’re just hiding your partner and not willing to actually deal with all that crap?”

“I wouldn’t lie.” Taehyung says it in a matter-of-fact way, watching as she stops a few feet away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t hide you,” he clarifies. She’s giving him a look he’s seen before, one he knows always appears when he says something she calls “declarations”. Her eyes go soft and a hint of a smile flickers across her cheeks, as if to say that even though she knows it can’t be true, she wishes it would. He simultaneously loves it and becomes a bit self-conscious over it.

“Aren’t we hiding right now?”

“We’re keeping our personal life private,” he corrects her. “That’s not the same thing. I wouldn’t hide you.”

“Huh. You really wouldn’t?” she asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

He shakes his head, coming up behind her and placing his hands on her hips. “Never,” he murmurs, kissing her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. He rests her forehead on her shoulder; the fact that she hasn’t shrugged him off or moved away is a good sign, but she isn’t quite leaning back into him either.

Did Dilara tell you the good news? Taehyung wonders if Jungkook thinks that he and Dilara would be actually working together, if any of the ambassadors or celebrities in the shoot would be. He doesn’t care about any of them, but he can’t imagine taking away from Dilara’s excitement about getting the campaign. Squeezing her waist tighter, he pulls her close.

“Prove it.”

He raises his head slightly. “Come again?”

“Prove it,” she repeats, turning around in his arms and stepping away slightly so she’s leaning back against the counter.

“You want to go public?” he asks sceptically. “Are you sure?”

“Well… not public,” she amends, “but maybe your fans should know, right?”

“Your fans don’t know about me,” he points out.

“No, but they know I’m not single.” Dilara tilts her head, a glint of a challenge in her eyes. “No pressure… but you did bring it up.” She reaches up and kisses him on the cheek before patting his shoulder and leaving, giving him a wave before disappearing around the corner.

—

It’s almost dinner time when Namjoon wakes up from in front of the laptop where he’d dozed off while working.

“Damn it,” he mutters, checking the time. He trudges straight into the bathroom and into the shower, the cool water helping him wake up at this unusual hour. He’s looking forward to dinner; he feels weak and low on energy and despite being on tour, he intends to eat well tonight.

He doesn’t check his phone again, not until he’s dressed and downstairs where everyone else is gathering and helping themselves to drinks. He gratefully accepts a mojito from a smiling Dilara and clinks his glass with hers.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s doing a live upstairs,” she answers. “Something about switching with Hoseok while he’s in Seoul.”

Namjoon nods, noting the change in schedule no one thought to tell him about. If Taehyung is online today, then Hoseok would have to do a live at least once before the next concert, meaning he and Yoongi could take a break for at least another week or two…

“Holy shit!”

Everyone turns to where Jimin is staring into his phone, mouth open and half-laughing. “What is it?” Yoongi asks.

“Taehyung just -” Apparently unable to finish his sentence, he shakes his head and passes the phone to Seokjin next to him, laughing in disbelief. He points to something and Seokjin raises his eyebrows.

“Idiot,” he mutters, passing the phone over to Yoongi and Jungkook. Namjoon walks over with a frown and peers into the phone over their shoulders, apparently immediately seeing whatever it is - and looking straight up at Dilara, the frown deepening.

“What is it?” she asks doubtfully, for she’d presumed it was something to do with their work. “Is everything okay?”

Namjoon bites his lip and opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then shakes his head. “You tell me,” he mutters, reaching over to hand her the phone.

A bit hesitant, Dilara takes it and immediately scans the screen. It’s a tweet with a video embedded; it’s Taehyung on a live - this live, wearing the same open-collared white linen shirt he’d been wearing half an hour ago - staring into the camera and speaking softly in Korean, looking more handsome than ever. There’s a SZA song playing in the background and a moment later, he turns up the volume and slides his chair back, bopping his head slightly to the music and running his hands through his thick hair.

He looks magnificent; it takes Dilara a moment to remember that his good looks can’t be the reason the rest of the guys displayed such a reaction. She frowns as he gives a faint smile to the camera, gaze boring into the lens, and leans to the side to pick up something from the ground, giving a clear view of one half of their room including - Dilara squints - a pain red bikini top on the bed.

“What did you do?”

Namjoon’s deep voice of exasperation jerks her out of her train of thought, which is just beginning to make sense of this. She looks up to see Taehyung jogging down the steps in the same white linen shirt and matching shorts, his hands casually in his pockets.

“What?” He looks around, frowning slightly at everyone’s gaze on him. “What’s happening?”

“No way you didn’t know.” Jimin shakes his head, looking terribly amused, and gestures for Dilara to give him the phone. She does silently, her eyes not leaving Taehyung’s face.

He watches the video expressionlessly, only raising his eyebrows at the very end. He hands the phone back to Dilara, catching her eye for a moment.

“You are going to be in so much trouble,” says Jimin, looking borderline thrilled at the prospect of it.

“It’s about time,” remarks Yoongi dryly, refilling his glass with wine. “Taehyung hasn’t caused a scandal in a while.”

“When have I ever caused a scandal?”

“No one’s going to get in trouble,” says Namjoon loudly, cutting through the chatter. “But… yeah, the company’s not going to approve of it.”

“Huh.” Taehyung bites his lip and nods. “Well, nothing we can do about it now, I guess.”

“We can get the video taken down,” suggests Jungkook. “It’s on Weverse, right?”

“Won’t everyone have taken screenshots and recordings by now, though?” Dilara asks, continuing to look at Taehyung.

“Yeah, probably,” sighs Namjoon, scrolling through his own phone.

“Top ten most irresponsible moments,” pipes up Seokjin, shaking his head exaggeratedly.

“Yeah, Taehyung, this was a careless move,” adds Jimin instantly, jumping on the train.

“You should be thankful Dilara didn’t show up anywhere in the video,” Namjoon tells him. At that, everyone turns to look at her, as though waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, uh - yeah, it’s - it’s so irresponsible,” she states, biting her lip to keep from smiling when Taehyung turns to her, eyebrows raised, hands on his hips. “But… I don’t really mind.”

Taehyung nods with narrowed eyes, still giving no indication as to the turn of events that led to this. Everyone else seems to be vaguely disappointed with her reaction; she supposes they were expecting some sort of dramatic fight.

Everyone drifts off after that, once it’s clear that the matter is more or less closed. There’s some chatter in different languages, largely debating between pre-gaming and going out, or staying in and watching a movie. Dilara finds she doesn’t really care; she stays out of the conversation, silently accepting a casual kiss on the head from Taehyung as he saunters away to the living room with the others.

“Mojito?” Namjoon offers her. “I tried my best,” he adds apologetically when she takes a sip and winces.

“No, it’s just really strong,” she sputters, eyes watering a bit. “Is this how strong you take it?”

“Sometimes,” he answers simply, but offers no more on the subject. “Are you okay? With this?”

From his partly curious tone, she takes it “this” is referring to Taehyung’s possibly accidental-on-purpose mishap with the live and the red bikini top.

“Yeah, I guess,” she answers, pouring some more mixer into her glass and stirring it. “Not like we got caught snogging or something. It’s pretty circumstantial. Do you really think he’ll get in trouble with the company?”

“Not trouble, really. Like you said, it’s circumstantial. Doesn’t prove anything.”

Dilara chooses to ignore that. “That’s good.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But you never know. Things can escalate.”

Dilara glances at him as he picks out the mint leaf from his drink. It suddenly occurs to her that this may be hitting a little close to home.

“It’s… precarious,” she admits after a moment. “But it doesn’t really change anything. Not with us, I mean.”

Namjoon nods, eyes still on his drink. “Well,” he says at last, “that’s good for you, I guess.” He meets her eyes briefly before giving her a small nod and starting to move away.

“Kaya,” blurts out Dilara, watching as he slowly turns around, “is getting published. An excerpt from her thesis - I forgot what it was called -”

“Behavioural Economics in Decision-making,” says Namjoon, nodding and smiling. His dimple appears out of nowhere and catches Dilara by surprise. “That’s amazing. Tell her… tell her congratulations from me, the next time you talk to her?”

He’s actually asking, Dilara realises. She’s about to agree, but at the last second, she looks up at him knowingly. “I’m not telling her anything,” she says, somewhat regretting it when Namjoon nods in acceptance. “You can. You should. She’s happy about it. She and her friends went out to celebrate and everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you that?”

“Not everything,” she admits. “I saw it on Instagram. Which means it’s probably a big deal.”

“Point taken.” Namjoon raises his free hand as Dilara waves at him before walking back into the living room to join the others. He swallows, not sure why the lump is appearing in his throat again. She’s happy about it, apparently. That’s what he wanted. That’s what he wants.

He should congratulate her. Slipping out of the kitchen, he heads to the room he’s sharing with Yoongi and shuts the door behind him, scrolling through his contacts. A notification appears on the top of his screen and he clicks it out of habit. Ignoring the actual subject of the message, he navigates to Kaya’s Instagram, second in his Search results.

Namjoon finds the pictures immediately; it’s the latest album she’s uploaded, consisting of three pictures of a group of people at a nicely-lit restaurant. He absently leans against the desk, missing her so immensely that he feels like his heart could crumble.

Kaya looks beautiful - and tired. But a happy tired, as though she’s worked for months burning the midnight oil and finally given herself a night off. He scans the rest of the people in the first picture; mostly peers from her program, some of whom he’s met before. He swipes right to see a solo picture of her with her glasses on and shifting her hair, followed by a third picture with the entire group around the table, all holding their drinks up towards the camera.

It’s obviously taken by someone else, perhaps a waiter or a passerby. Kaya is a couple of chairs away from the centre, in between her friend Alex - and Adam.

For a moment, his brain doesn’t know how to react. She’s sitting next to him, and smiling - but there are six other people at the table, too. Her thesis advisor went to her celebration dinner. Her thesis advisor that hit on her, slept with her and sees her every day, went to her celebration dinner.

Namjoon bites his lip, feeling his mind about to turn a corner it shouldn’t, for it wouldn’t help anyone. But it’s too close by, just within reach. With the minor buzz of the two mojitos he’s had, his intrusive thoughts take over. He swallows and grits his teeth, regretting it instantly - but it’s too late, for he can see it now: Kaya, Kaya with him, naked and glorious, eyes closed, kissing him, being pleasured by him -

His bedroom door opens loudly, making a couple of people in the living room jerk in surprise.

“Jungkook,” he says gruffly, “you’re carrying your old phone with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” answers Jungkook, standing up slowly. “You need it?”

When Namjoon nods wordlessly, Jungkook gets to his feet and jogs to his room to retrieve his old Samsung, the one he’d brought on tour before buying a new one in London, Namjoon following him.

As Jungkook leads him to his room, he peers surreptitiously into his leader’s room, frowning slightly when he sees his phone on the ground by the wall in three pieces, the screen shattered.

—

Thanks for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

#namjoon x oc #taehyung x oc #namjoon fanfic #taehyung fanfic #thebtswritersclub #bangtanwhq #k-vanity #houseofddaeng #hyunglinenetwork #namjoon angst #taehyung angst #taehyung smut

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high-five0 · 5 months ago

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•FIC MASTERLIST•

So this is basically every fic I’ve reblogged so I can access them and see them organized! (Also kind of a fic recommendation post) If there’s any recommendations of what I should read please let me know!

Most of these fics will be platonic!

-Formula One-

•Platonic Grid•

“Martins Grid walk” -taking over the grid walk is not for the faint of heart

“Slow Down, Red Flag” -what the reader does when the racing comes to a stop

“Pure Chaos 2, 3” - amazing multi part smau

“Caffeine of Choice” -a few drivers don’t get your choice of energy

“Golden (Son)” -Prema driver with OP81 as a grid dad

“Early Risers V. Night Owls” -some just don’t understand the morning grumpies

“Line Up” -Pole position equals pissy fans

“Dear Spa” -the Belgium track takes another (read for a good cry)

“Reality” -the cameras not capture everything

“Grill the Kid” “Grill the Grid” -two fics based on the quiz show

“Annoying little brothers” -self explanatory

“Grid Kids”

“Monopoly”

•MV1💙•

“Block Out the Haters” -Max defends his teammate

•CL16❤️•

“Don’t get Squeezed” -Charles little sisters position at the Chinese GP has her worried

•CS55❤️•

“Human Shield”-podium celebrations can get messy very quickly

“You don’t like spicy food?”-trying to play mermaids with chili

•DR3🩶•

“Be your Wingman” -a little crush on a sky sport reporter has someone being a tease

•SV5💚•

“Films of Anger” -Racing incident has too childhood friends explode at eachother (very brocedes core)

“Learning how to Drive” -she can driver at over 200 mph but not on a normal road

•KR7❤️•

“Very Sleepy One Bed” -long races and sharing hotel rooms

“Future world Champ” -a talk with Kimi and Seb about the new driver

“Giddy Goodbyes” -ending the season can be sad but a helmet swap can make it a little better

•LS2🩵•

“Team USA”-Logan supports his girl competing as an Olympic surfer SMAU

“Rookie Reflections” -Logan befriends the new rookie (first f1 fic I’ve ever read)

•OP81🧡•

“Rewatching love” -a group of old Prema drivers watch their old f2 videos

•LH44🖤•

“Driver Headcannons”

•PA17🤍•

“Crash Into Me” -enemies to lovers with the one bed trope what’s not to love?

-Women’s Basketball-

•PB5•

“Courtside”- “what are you doing here? I thought you had to study”

“Teammate Headcannons”

“Sleepyhead”

•KA2•

“Dating Headcannons”

•KM20•

“While we’re young” -the aces play the liberty and 2 lovers are joined together

“I wanna listen to the sound of you breathing” -just 5 more minutes

-FC Barcelona-

•Braça Femeni•

“Head in the Clouds”

“Scrubber” -la Roja debute”

“First” -Scoring your first club goal

“Priorities” -being late to practice opens up a new can of worms

“Numb” -nobody likes a rough game

•ML4•

“Protection” -injury on the field

•JF11•

“Joao with a formula 1 driver”

-Call of Duty-

•Task Force 141•

“Ain’t that a kick in the head” -just some Headcannons of new recruit

“One hell of a first mission” -your first mission goes sideways

“Migraines”

•Ghost•

“Right Behind you” -Ghost wants to keep his distance but can’t (first cod fic I’ve ever read)

“Headcannons”

“A Bedtime Story” -it’s not your fault ghost has a soothing voice

“Like Riding a Bike” -ghost finds out you never learned to ride a bike

“Picture Perfect” -snoring on the plane home

“Rodan”

-Top Gun-

•Dagger Squad•

“Friendship Bracelets”-making brackets for your squad

“Rookie” - not everyone a fan of the new recruit

•Rooster•

“Personal Space” -you like your personal space, a certain aviator likes it too

•Iceman•

“Blood in the Water” -a crash scares everyone

-MCU-

•Deadpool and Wolverine•

“Two pease in a pod”

“Troublemaker” -Wolverine seems to be there for you more times than anyone else

“The Spiderling”

“Oscar Worthy Performance”- the cops cannot be called, so you find one man to vouch for you

•Moonkight•

“Recruitment gone right?” -the avengers sent you to recruit a mercenary

•Daredevil•

“They’re Gonna Taste my Venom”- Venom and his host stumble upon a lawyer

•Spider-Man(s)”

“Art with Hands”- Hobie is the best sign language teacher

-Star Wars-

•The Clone Wars•

•Fives•

“Smugglers” -stealing treats from another commander

“Food Fight”

•104th Battalion•

“Cuddling the 104”

“Mama Wolffe” -Wolffe was grump and unnerving… to most

•Delta Squad•

“Headcannons”

•The Mandolorian•

“Come and Get Me” -Din will always come back for you

-The Last of Us-

“So Far From It”-you get into some trouble but know exactly who to call

“Carved Over the Door” - Joel finally figures out your secret

“The Tunnel” -not a very good get away driver

-Na’vi-

“Angry Spirit” -doing anything for your siblings

•Neteyaem•

“Golden Child” -A battle for the paise of your parents

“And your Brother is Here”

-Random-

•Arcane•

“Stumbled Upon” -Silco stumbled upon one of Vanders Kids

•The Hunger Games•

“Swear” - Finnick helps the new victor

#star wars #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #the clone wars #f1 imagine #across the spiderverse #the bad batch #lando norris #top gun #top gun x female reader #top gun x reader #the last of us x reader #joel miller x you #Star Wars x reader

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bumpkinspice0 · 1 year ago

Text

Parallels Chapter 6

Miguel O'Hara x Spider!FemReader

No use of y/n

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI!!!)

Word Count: 5596

Summary: Miguel unlocks some of the secrets to your connection, but what are the next steps from here?

Warnings: SMUT! (Little strip tease, fingering, grinding, praise kink, dirty talk, p in v sex, Miguel being a lil' switch bitch, you take him for a ride) Miguel POV, Mutual pinning, info dump, Hobie fucking Brown has entered the building Small note: I'm making a taglist for this fic! Just comment or message if you want to be added or just interact with this post! Ageless or minor blogs WILL NOT be added

Previous Next

Series Masterlist

AO3

_______________

Chapter 6

A Mutual Agreement

The earliest morning light starts peaking through the windows. The sunrise was so different here somehow. So much richer and golden and warm. The deep night sky now fading into lustrous oranges and pinks that illuminated the glass-covered skyscrapers into golden obelisks. It was so unlike his world— or maybe he just hadn’t watched the sunrise in a while.

Miguel had stayed longer than he wanted.

You’d fallen asleep in his arms almost immediately. You asked him. How could he say no? He told you he’d wait until you fell asleep, and that was over an hour ago. His sleep schedule was so eternally fucked up that the early morning hours didn’t phase him anymore. It’d been years since he’d gotten a proper night’s sleep, he thinks.

You slept like the dead. Still and heavy in his arms, but so peaceful. It was nice to finally see you tame. You were always so fierce. So feisty and ready to take what you wanted. But now you finally rested— and his arms.

As the minutes ticked by he felt the buzz of the spider-sense rise up again. Not in the way it had been before but like it was reminding him that it was here. It would always be here around you. A connection he was so close to unlocking the secrets of.

Could he have this all the time? Have you all to himself? Could this really be harmless? No. He knew what that mentality brought, and he will never let anyone pay that price ever again.

You were incredible. You were lovely and cheerful, despite what your past held. It was the mark of a good spider and you were an amazing spider— and he was hindering that. He saw the change in you when the sense showed up. You became more skittish. More defensive and distracted, and your hero life suffered for it. He did that. This was his fault. Who knows how much he’d affected in this reality simply by having you in spider society? If he was half the man he was known to be, he would wipe your memory and kick you out— but he was never the person everyone seemed to think he was. What man ever is?

He’d given himself a mask. A protective wall ten feet high to keep people from getting in. It was better this way. Better for people to think him a cold monster than get close— But you were slowly removing the foundations of that carefully curated wall.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying it— some parts of it. You were unlike anyone he’d ever met before. He’s still not entirely sure if it’s because it’s just you — or because the sense was getting what it wanted. But this was a part of him, right? It was him wanting this.

He was being selfish. After building an empire to help atone for his past sins, saving countless lives and realities— he was being selfish again. He wanted to be.

Or maybe he was just curious. He doesn’t really know anymore.

This wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a crush. In some ways, you probably despised each other, for lack of a better term. This thing was… what did you say?

Fucked up, isn’t it?

Yeah, he can agree with that. Every time you were near each other it was like something new was unlocked. The way you fought together in the park felt surreal. Somewhere deep down in him, he knows it would never feel that way with anyone else.

You were completely capable of handling the anomaly yourself. He shouldn’t have even come. He knew he shouldn’t have, but again, he was curious.

He’d felt the ping of the now familiar sense last night while he was in his room. It was faint but it was there— but different this time? It feels different every time. He’s given up on attempting to explain it.

He turned around, expecting to see you there in his lab, but of course, there was nothing. A quick check-in with Lyla and he quickly discovered you weren’t even in his dimension. So why could he feel you? He felt anxious. Like he had to get to you. Maybe you were in trouble— or maybe this was just something else.

Regardless, he tracks your signature, if only for some peace of mind. Your location lights up in your reality, but you weren’t alone. For the first time, an anomaly made its way into your dimension. You were fighting it right now. He felt you because you were in distress— that was his theory anyway. He was through the portal before he could stop himself.

He wondered if you felt him too. He wondered a lot of things about you.

You fought together, the threat was neutralized, and the job was done. He was back at the tower. You were home. He shouldn’t have gone back. He knew you were safe. He knew it.

And now he was, still here… laying naked in your bed, holding you in his arms.

The way you felt tonight will haunt him forever. Your lips, your skin— your cunt. He could have fucked you the entire night and it wouldn’t have been enough. You were like a drug that threatened to send him over the edge. He was already clinging on to what little of his humanity he had left, and here you were driving him to madness.

He couldn’t be careless with this, he couldn’t afford that luxury anymore.

He had to figure out what this was.

He slowly slinks out from under you, making sure you’re still comfortable. He brings the blankets up over your shoulders taking one last look at you. Not wanting to wake you, he leaves from the roof.

——————

The massive mechanical arms bring out a single glowing red cage. Inside it, a familiar green sadistic face. She’s brought overhead and lowered in front of you.

“ Spider-Woman! ” The Goblin Queen sneers, “ I’ll get out of here, and when I do you’ll pay! You’ll all pay! ”

“This the one?” Margo asks.

“Yep, that’s her.” You confirm dismissively. The arms immediately carry her over to the teleport dock. She doesn’t hesitate to vow revenge on you in every way imaginable.

You got called into the tower today. Not from Miguel, disappointingly, but from Margo in the lock-up sector. You’d never gotten a call from Spider-Byte before but apparently, you had to confirm and sign off on any anomaly that was in your dimension. Just more protocol you didn’t know anything about.

“Oh, that’s a feisty one.” A voice tuts from behind. The unmistakable thick British accent brings a smile to your face. You turn around and sure enough, there’s the infamous Hobie Brown perched in the corner. You’d only worked with him a handful of times but his reputation very much preceded him. He hops down, walking into the computer space

“You have no idea.” you tut back.

The machine begins knitting glowing red threads around the enclosure. It was mesmerizing in a creepy sort of way. You’d only seen it done once or twice before.

“Heard the Big guy caught this one, didn’t he?” He asks.

“In my dimension,” you clarify, “So really I should get the credit.”

“Ah, here to claim your trophy then.” He grins.

“That's why I’m here.” You joke back. “Fortune and glory, obviously.”

He gives a small chuckle. To a lot of people, he came off as condescending but you really never got that vibe from him. He was maybe a little showboaty about his ‘fight the power’ attitude but it was honestly refreshing to have on a team of people pleasers. With everything you know about him, you’re amazed he even joined in the first place.

You don’t know who originally gave him the offer but he left it up in the air for weeks. Most spider’s jumped at the opportunity but he took his time. It’s fair. He’s still a kid with enough on his plate, as well as a blossoming career as an anarchist-model-punk rock icon.

And this place… well it didn’t seem like his style. Even so, he was still here.

“So you came all the way here and the big guy can’t spare a minute?” Hobie asks.

“I suppose so. I didn’t even know this was protocol until an hour ago,” you gesture your head back toward the growing stockpile of villains behind you. It had nearly doubled since you were here last, “Byte’s got her work cut out for her.”

“It’s gettin’ crazy out there,” he shrugs back. He pauses for a moment, biting his lip, “You think all this is worth it, then?”

“Whatta ya mean?”

“All them.” he points his thumb back at the cages, “All of us. Wouldn’t all be here if it weren’t for us.”

“They’d be running around in someone else’s world if it weren’t for us.”

“I suppose so,” He shrugs, turning to watch the mechanical arms knit their laser web, “Ain’t all so black ‘n white though, is it?”

You’re not sure where he’s going with this. Maybe having second guesses about it all. It was an incredible responsibility on top of the ones you all had. The fate of existence relies on all of you. It was scary sometimes. Just to know how fragile it all was.

Or maybe Hobie just wanted to stir the pot. It’s a 50/50 shot with him.

The Goblin Queen’s pod is complete. She disappears with a room-shaking blast. Hopefully, to never be seen again— By you at least.

Lyla calling your name catches your attention. She materializes in front of you.

“You’ve been requested to come to Sector 4.” She informs you and your stomach drops. Miguel’s sector.

“Ooooo.” Hobie and Margo both taunt. Fucking teenagers.

“Tell him I’ll be right there,” You wave Lyla’s form away, instantly feeling like you’re back in high school again. “All good here, Byte?”

“Golden,” Margo gives an O.K. sign, already moving on to her next of a million tasks.

You turn to leave.

“I’ll see you ‘round, Spider-Woman,” Hobie waves you off.

“See you ‘round, Spider-Man,'' you wave back before weaving back through the maze of caged villains. Margo had to be one of the hardest-working spiders, you swear. If Lyla was Miguel’s right-hand man, then she was Lyla’s. She was always here. Well, not here here but she couldn’t do everything she did if she was physically here.

There was a set of rules for interacting in other dimensions. One of which was you can’t be there more than 48 hours. Too much interference was always a risk. Any job that needed to be done, had to be done quickly and quietly. Staying in another dimension had consequences— Miguel made sure you all knew what they were.

You’d only learned about Miguel’s past through other people in vague warnings and stories. An entire dimension… gone. You can’t even imagine. The pain for what he had caused was always evident in his eyes. Just faintly. Something only people who had experienced great loss, like you and your fellow spiders, could understand. Loss of a loved one. Failing as a protector— The thought that none of this would have happened if it weren’t for you.

He had a wife. A daughter.

You’d never ask Miguel about what he had done. No need to dig up his pain for your curiosity. You knew why he did it— A normal life. A family. Such a fantasy for people like you. You’d be tempted too, if it was all offered to you. Still, even out of such tragedy, this place existed. It existed to ensure it would never happen again. If he wanted to ever tell you, then you’d listen.

Three days. You hadn’t heard from him in three days. You can’t say you were surprised to wake up in an empty bed. You expected it, really. Even so, an overcasting shadow of disappointment lingered over you

Your sheets still smelled like him.

It was a hectic morning anyway. You woke up to frantic pounding at your door, after missing several calls from Jack. He heard the Green Goblin was spotted last night and Spider-Woman swooped in to save the day. It was always your code to call him after a bigger fight. Whether you were okay or needed to be driven to the hospital. You always called.

Jack had no idea about the multiverse. You wanted to keep it that way. The more he knew, the more at risk he was. He could always tell when you were lying but seemed to accept the fact that there are things you just can’t tell him. He risked a lot by simply just being your friend, he knew that.

You always hated making him worry.

You make it up to him by taking him and Ash out to brunch. You don’t deserve friends like them. You really don’t.

You swing to a stop outside of Miguel's room. Walking through the threshold, you already feel the spider-sense hum.

You’re not sure what to expect. You knew he didn’t have any reason to be upset with you and your last encounter was left rather… unresolved. He was lingering somewhere in the back of your mind these days. Lustful obsessive thoughts you’d be ashamed to admit to. This sense did something to you— to both of you. It wasn’t only a connection but something more.

Who knows if you’ll ever be able to fully define it. A part of your powers that only worked around him? Some biological urge? World's most powerful aphrodisiac? The list seemed to grow with each interaction.

He was there waiting for you this time, standing proudly at the base of his desk platform. Admittedly, some butterflies stir in your stomach. Almost like it was a relief to see him— or you were just eager to see where this would go.

“ Hola, añarita. ” He greets you with a small smile.

“Afternoon, Boss.” You instantly feel stupid as soon as you say it.

He gives a small breathy laugh. Yeah, you definitely feel stupid, “The Goblin Queen sent home?”

“Despite her protests, yes. You’re building quite the stockpile down there.”

“Spider’s hard at work,” He runs his thumb over his jaw as if contemplating what to say next. “You look… Nice today.”

“Oh– I. Thanks,” You look down at your standard spider suit he’s seen a million times. Well, you were both at a loss for what to really say to each other. You attempt to push this forward into a more productive conversation. “To what do I owe the pleasure today, Mr. O’hara?”

“First off, don’t call me that. Secondly—Lyla!” The room around you goes dark like a void, the floor seemingly falling away into black nothing. It was jarring, to say the least. You instinctually jump to Miguel’s side.

Lustrous strands of red, blue, and yellow light illuminate in front of you. They lace and intertwine together into a helix. DNA strands, side by side.

“It’s… is this us?” you ask before he can explain. The tests. Your blood draw.

“Bingo,” he steps forward, the projections interacting around him. The yellow highlights of the strands brighten and enlarge, “This is us. Human us. What remains of our original genetic makeup.”

Your names highlight next to each strand. You take a step toward them. It was you on the most quantum level. The very base of your existence. It felt so alien.

“And this…” He waves his hand. The yellow of the strands dulled to the background and the red and blue came forward, “... is the spider makeup.”

You’re not scientific in the slightest. He’d likely laid it out in a visual way you can understand, but you can’t help but notice how different they are. There was so much more in Miguel’s. Your DNA was speckled with spider here and there but his… against the yellow, it was hard to tell just how much it was.

“Initially, they of course don’t look anything alike. But a closer look…” He takes both hands and zooms in on the spider mutation. The projection morphs into a larger chart, breaking up each section with graphs and accompanying equations.

It was all complete gibberish.

“And the closer look shows?” You prompt him.

“Here,” He zooms in on a pie chart. “This is the spider that bit you. They aren’t a natural species. They’re genetically created from a scope of different spiders. A completely unique hybrid.”

“Okay, I knew that part already.”

He brings over another, completely identical chart, “And this… is my spider makeup.”

“Okay, we have the same mutation.” You’re admittedly a bit confused, “Like, almost everyone in this tower has the same mutation .”

“No, not like this.” a faint twinge of frustration washes over his face, “There are thousands of species and literally infinite combinations of their genetics. Yes, we all have the same mutation but everyone’s combination is different. With DNA like this, it��s like you were basically bitten by the same spider that… changed me.”

You take a moment to let that process. Infinite combinations of thousands of species. It was like picking the winning Powerball numbers twice in a row. Like randomly meeting someone on the other side of the world with the exact same name in the same exact clothes. It just didn’t happen.

“Okay, we have the same spider. Why do we… have a connection?” you ask.

He starts pacing about the various projections, “There are reports of people having been bit by the same spider sharing… similar connections. It’s simply nature. When changed into various spider-people, we’re not entirely human anymore. A new subspecies of humans. I call it arachno-humanoids.”

“That is literally the worst name I’ve ever heard,” You scoff.

“Okay, well when you create an entire interdimensional superhuman strike force to save the fate of the multiverse, you can name them.”

Okay, fair enough.

“It’d be a cooler name than yours,” You mumble to yourself.

“Anyway,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to breathe, “We’re all spider-people, but that manifests in various ways. Some slightly differing abilities or mutations depending on the hybrid you were bitten by. Yours and my powers didn’t manifest exactly the same, but they still recognize each other. We’re attracted to each other, we share a spider-sense because that’s part of the makeup of our spider's genetics. It wants us together because we’re technically the same species. To find a viable mate to—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you cover your ears and turn around, walking through several projections.

“I know this is a lot,” Miguel follows after you. “And there’s more, but… I just want you to understand.”

“No, I got it!” You blurt, “We share a spider sense that drives me insane because we’re the same breed of arachnid-human-whatever. I got it !”

“Hey!” He grabs both your wrists, forcing you to halt in front of him. You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. “I know how this sounds. I know this is insane and ridiculous but… we don’t have to live like this forever.”

You pause, looking him in the eye. There was so much sincerity in them. So much caring. He was sorry this was happening.

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“I can cut this out of our genetics. Mute this part of our powers completely.”

“How?” you immediately ask without even dwelling on the implications of what he just said.

He pauses. His head and shoulders drop, and the rest of his posture follows. He’s contemplating telling you something. He takes a few deep breaths before looking you in the eye again.

“I’ve been doing it to myself for years.”

You don’t ask how or why, you just let him carry forward however he wants. He was clearly guarded about this and you didn’t want to miss the opportunity to learn more about him. He waves his right hand, projections fade away, and suddenly— you’re back in his lab again.

He hops up to his desk, grabs something from one of the tables, and hops back down. You recognize what he retrieved. The injector gun loaded with neon green liquid.

“I’m not like the rest. I’m not even completely like you.” He starts, “I wasn’t bitten. I changed myself into this. I had to… escape something, and altering my DNA was the only way how. I’m technically 50 percent spider.”

You think back to the DNA projections. His spider genetics completely dwarfed yours by comparison.

“With altering myself so much, there was a price,” he takes the green vial out of the gun, “This is a dampener. It keeps me human. Keeps me sane and cognizant. Without it, my mutation would likely take over.”

You’re not sure what to say. What can you say? He was reliant on this thing to keep him human. To keep him functioning.

“How long have you been… Doing this?” you ask.

“Almost since the beginning.” He places the vile back in the gun and tosses it to a nearby table, “I was pretty scary for a week or so, but my brother came through and helped me out.”

“Oh, you’re still plenty scary.” You crack, trying to lighten the mood. The corners of his twitch upward. Success, “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Gabe. He helped build this place.”

“Ah, a family business.”

“Yeah, something like that.” he trails off.

You could feel the air between you lighten just a little. Humor was always your go-to coping mechanism. Everything you just learned was… a lot, to say the least. He props himself up to sit on his weird little desk platform. You take a seat next to him.

“So, you can cure this?” you ask.

“Yes.” He says with complete confidence. “A one-time injection to isolate and target it specifically.”

“Spider-mate vaccine.” You joke.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he chuckles, lulling back into a serious tone, “It’ll take me a little bit but… I’ll get it done.”

A little bit? That could mean anything. Weeks? Months? Years?!

Your heart had been racing this entire time. It always did around him. You attribute it to the spider-sense. Strangely, you were growing used to it by now. It wasn’t a surprise anymore, and now you knew all of the biology as to why— not that it helped you feel any less weird about it all. A viable mate. Just thinking the words made you wanna barf.

The same spider signature despite being from a different time and space. A one-in-a-billion odds. You should get a lottery ticket when you get home.

“So…” you break the lingering silence, “What’s next?”

“Next, you give me time to develop it and…” He pauses, but you know what he’s going to say, “Business as usual.”

“Ya know, you keep saying that but I don’t think you know what it means.” you nudge his elbow as a friendly gesture, “But I don’t think I know what it means either.”

“What do you mean?”

“It… sucks, doesn’t it?” you admit. You don’t know when you crossed over the barrier of being able to be this candid with him but here you were. He’s been completely vulnerable with you today. You could do the same, “Ever since it started something just feels… off. Like something’s always clawing in the back of my head. I guess that thing is you. I’m walking on eggshells around myself. I’m antsier. On edge. Everything’s turned up to 11 around you. And then… Well, you know how it tends to end. And it’s relief for a little bit, but then it builds again and—”

“It’s the same for me,” he admits. His hand comes up to rest on your thigh. Your sense instantly spikes, “I… have a hypothesis.”

“Okay?” you squeak.

“It builds over time. Being apart. The… discomfort.” His heavy hand moves up your leg. Your breath catches, “And physical contact seems to ease it.”

Your hair stands on end, “It does…”

His hand settles into the apex of your thighs, “So…I propose, whenever it gets to be too much we have … a meeting.”

“A meeting?”

“A meeting.” he spreads your leg, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “To keep up on… usual business . So we’re not distracted. You find me when you need me. I’ll find you. No strings attached. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that,” you repeat, and just like that— it’s a deal. You needed each other if you were going to make it through this. It’s just an agreement— it didn’t have to be anything more. You’re not sure you wanted it to be. He’d cure you both and you’d never have to see each other again afterwards. Life could go back to normal.

You needed each other.

Taking a moment to muster up the confidence you didn’t know you had around him, you crawl over— and straddle yourself on his lap. He’s clearly surprised by your forwardness, but it’s not unwanted. It’d only been three days— three long ass days.

“Wouldn’t wanna be distracted in the field.” You settle yourself on his massive thighs, grinding your pelvis closer to his.

“No, we can’t have that,” his hands trail up the slope of your ass. He gives you a rough squeeze. “Tell me what you need.”

“Please, just…” You’re not entirely sure. Your head was stirring, you're sure his was too. “Just… make me feel good.”

He grunts in approval, pulling you flush against him. He leans his head closer to yours, but your lips don’t meet. He holds you there, hovering in anticipation. He ghosts his lips over your jaw, his nose tracing the line. You drop your head back, exposing your neck to him. He lays a few feather-light kisses across your throat. He’s savoring you, in every sense of the word.

His lips come to your ear, “Strip down for me.”

His grip on you eases, and you stand without question. Walking to the center of his desk space you reach for the hem of your neck. The great thing about super suits was how infinitely stretchy they were. You pull your arms out first, rolling the material down to your waist. You make an extra show of wriggling it over your hips, sliding it down to your knees. His eyes burn into you. He intently watches your every movement, like a predator circling its prey.

You kick your suit to the side, still in your bra and underwear. Your 7-year-old sports bra doesn’t feel particularly sexy— it’s the first to go. You remove your panties one leg at a time and toss them in front of him. You stand before him, completely bare and waiting.

He stands— his massive shadow casting over you amongst the deep blue and rich yellow lights. He drags the backs of his fingers over your shoulder and down your arm.

“ Hermosa .” He breathes before pulling you in. He twists you around, pinning your back to his chest. His right-hand runs over your breasts, while the left trails down your stomach. You arch into his touch when his hand cups your waiting cunt, fingers sliding through your slick folds. He circles around your clit a few times, earning several breathy gasps from you. He works slowly— Meticulously.

He gently brings you both back down to your knees. You sit on his lap as he plays with you, arching yourself around him. He delves a finger into your heat. You grind down against his palm.

“So good for me,” He moans into your ear. The heat of his breath against your cold skin sends goosebumps trailing down your arms. He nips at your ear, the hand massaging your breast coming up and circling around your neck. There’s almost no pressure behind it, but the message is clear. I’m in control.

You roll your hips with his hand as his movements quicken. The wet, lude sounds of your pussy start to fill the massive room. He pulls your head to the side, placing several sloppy kisses across your shoulder. He’s being more gentle this time, seeing his previous marks are still there.

His moves underneath you. You feel his hard length against your ass. He presses you closer— His hips move in rhythm with yours, grinding himself against you.

“¿Te sientes bien ahora querida?” He growls against your skin, “Tell me what you feel, little spider.”

You didn’t think you could even string together a cohesive thought, let alone a sentence. By some will of the cosmos, you manage, “O-on fire. I-incredible.”

“Mmm,” he nuzzles into your hair, “And the sense? What does it say?”

What did it say? When it came to Miguel there was only one thing it ever screamed at you.

“More.” you breathe.

His movements stop. You’re about to protest when his fingers come up and circle your bud. You melt into his touch.

“It’s such a demanding little thing, isn’t it?” He whispers, “So needy. Why don’t you show me? Why don’t you take what you need.”

And in an instant, his hands are off you. You fall forward, catching yourself. You’re on your hands and knees in front of him, completely exposed. You whip around, fuming and unsatisfied. He leans back, a fiendish grin across his face. You’d slap him if you weren’t so unbearably turned on. Bastard.

You turn. He leans back further as you crawl over him. Your hands come to his chest, his suit fading away instantly. Trailing down from his collarbones to the tops of his thighs is now bare. You pull his throbbing cock out of his briefs, precum already smearing the tip.

You stroke him slowly— Once. Twice— watching him agonize in your lazy touch. Good. You lean back, lining yourself up with him. It’s less jarring with you in control this time. You take him at your own pace. You feel a deep moan reverberate through his body as you sink down onto him. His hands come to rest on your ass.

You bury him to the hilt, savoring the fullness. You doubt you’ll ever get used to the sensation. You don’t break eye contact with him when you start to rock your hips— slowly and with purpose. His eyes roll back as you start chasing your pleasure.

He shivers when you lean forward to kiss across his massive chest, leaving marks of your own this time. He immediately pulls you up into a searing kiss. He holds you close while you find your rhythm.

His hips move with yours ever so slightly, giving you a better angle through each thrust. It’s maddening. It’s beautiful and perfect.

You break away, sitting up to stare down at him. You could get used to seeing him like this. Sure there was a smugness about him, but there were cracks at the edge of his big bad guy mask. He was enjoying this just as much as you. You knew he was.

He sits up with you, taming your thrusts into rolls against his body. The movements were less vigorous but nonetheless pleasurable. Your walls constrain, feeling him move around inside you. He was so fucking deep. The extra friction from grinding against his stomach was shooting fireworks through your entire being. You’re not sure how long you can last like this.

“That’s it. Take what you need,” he says, leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. You gasp, clawing your nails down his shoulders. He enveloped all of you against him. He devoured you— but you were still in control.

He was so dominant and yet so giving in everything he did with you. You never felt uncomfortable or afraid. Just starved and lustful. Now that you’d come to a mutual understanding, it was all the more reason to let go and just take.

Use me, and I’ll make you feel good.

He moves to your other breast, the cold air on your now exposed, hard nipple sending chills down your spine. He rolls it in his fingers as his tongue lavishes your neglected one. He holds you tight as you writhe against him, chasing that blinding white high. It was building in you. You can feel it.

“God— I–I’m–I’m–” The words die on your lips as your movements quicken into a desperate frenzy. So close. You were so close now.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” he moans into you, his lips trailing back up to your neck. “Show me–Wanna feel you.”

It rushes through you, taking all the air in your lungs with it. He holds you upright as you quake in his arms. You throw your head back, gasping for air for the first time in what felt like days.

“Oh, god you’re s-so– you’re gonna— I’m gonna—” His head falls into your chest, your orgasm causing a chain reaction directly into his. You feel him throb against you, your pulsing walls milking him dry. You tremble in each other's arms, sharing in the blinding ecstasy— spider-sense’s singing in harmony.

You hold each other’s quivering bodies until you both somehow manage to relax. He brings his head up from your chest, eyes glossy and dilated.

“Better now?” His voice is strained and husky.

“Better.” You confirm with a matching voice.

The pleased quiet hum of the spider-sense washes over your mind, gratified and full. So, this was the new normal for you both— until he could rid you of it completely.

A mutually beneficial agreement.

A biological need.

Nothing more.

________

Translations:

Hola arañita- Hello, little spider Hermosa- Beautiful ¿Te sientes bien ahora querida?- Do you feel good now, my dear?

Please... PLEASE correct me if any of this is wrong <3

God, I wanted to put SO MUCH more Hobie and Margo in this chapter but ultimately decided to do it later in the story being that this chapter was so info-dumpy. Wanna give all of our spider their proper time to shine!

Also should note that we're making assumptions about what Miguel injects himself with based on theories. The power dampener one seemed the most plausible one to me, but honestly they could all be pretty plausible. Guess we'll find out one day! For now... fanfiction theories.

Baby taglist below. Please note that if your blog is ageless/ a minor you WILL NOT BE ADDED. We're sharing mature, explicit content here. Let's be responsible with it. I apologize for not clarifying earlier.

________

Taglist:

@ineedgarlicbread @pinkiemme

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara x spiderwoman!reader #miguel o'hara smut #parallels fic

176 notes · View notes

kwanisms · 2 years ago

Text

taglist | playlist

summary: Everything seemed to fall into place for Y/N. She had a loving boyfriend, her dream job, and the bestest friend in the universe. She never thought her life was missing something until she was introduced to Seo Changbin, the town's newest tattoo artist who happens to be harboring an unimaginable secret.

pairing: tattoo artist!Changbin × fem!Reader

genres/themes: angst, fluff, smut, 18+ (minors dni. I mean it. go away), slow burn, “forbidden” love, strangers to lovers, supernatural au, tattoo artist!Changbin, werewolf!Changbin, established boyfriend!Joshua

warnings: adult dialogue, alcohol consumption, Joshua being an asshat

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby

stray kids taglist: @cixrosie @hoeforcheol @beomgyusbabygirl @lovestayskzxx @flowerboykun @smhlino @cutiespaghetti @peterparkoure

series taglist: @snow-pegasus @brownieracha @hobi-is-golden @avyskai @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @biribarabiribbaem @mchslut @spicxbnny @hgema @likeaboss-duh @oiminho @slut-for-dabi @ughyeka @honey-lemon-goose @skidsflowers @fixation-dump @meadowyin @sleeplessdawn @bristidutta @changbinnss @racha-enthusiast @phobia0922 @sanjoongie @nattisbored @kimseungminsprincess @chrollosforehead @typicalcuriosities @tai-loves-skz @labyrinthonmymind @spookyauthorspopmusictrash

Red strikethrough means I cannot tag you. Check your visibility settings.

And if you change your url, YOU are responsible for telling me.

a/n: It's finally here! I have been looking forward to this series for a while. I really hope it's as well received and that you all love it. I will warn you all that it's a slow burn fic and I do mean slow burn. Something to note is that Y/N never cheats on her boyfriend. I want to make that known now. Cheating is not included in this series. A couple things before we get started:

A huge thank you to my wife, Sky☁️, for this entire story idea. Without her late night thoughts and ramblings as well as her constant hype and support, this series wouldn’t even exist.

Also a massive thank you and huge shout out to @icybluehosh for her professional input on all things tattoos. You are a saint, my love and I thank you so much!

Edit to add a massive thank you to @playmetheclassics for beta reading and helping me edit this hunk of words. I'm so sorry I forgot to tag you earlier Indi 😭😭😭

To everyone else, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this series and what I have in store for these characters!

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𝗰𝗵 𝟬𝟭 - 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿

wc: 16.5 (she's wordy and I'm not sorry lol)

masterlist || next »»

The faint sound of soft jazz played overhead, occasionally drowned out by the sounds of forks and knives clinking gently against ceramic plates. The air filled with the smell of coffee, muffins and other baked goods, making you wish you'd gotten something to eat.

Coming to this cafe had been your boyfriend’s idea, not yours, but you found yourself enchanted with the small, cozy atmosphere. The light, almost white, wood of the floor and tabletops contrasted against the black painted brick walls of the small space.

Huge rectangular windows dominated the storefront, allowing in as much natural light as possible. The pale wood was accompanied by black painted metal in the legs of the tables and in the chairs and the few bar stools that stood under the white granite countertop.

There were a few potted plants behind the bar and in the corners giving a little life and color to the otherwise nearly monochromatic palette. You glanced down at the mug in front of you. A simple vanilla latte had been your order when you accompanied Joshua up to the counter.

The sprinkling of cinnamon that lay on top of the steamed milk foam couldn't mask the aroma of the coffee that invited you in to take a sip. Although you didn’t want to mess up the foam design, the moment you took a sip, sighing in contentment as the sweet vanilla bean flavor hit your tongue, you knew you’d made the right call.

You heard a chuckle and glanced up across the table, eyes settling on your boyfriend as he smiled at you, having just taken a sip of his own coffee, an iced americano, his go to as of late.

You couldn’t understand why he loved such a bitter drink. You remembered trying it weeks ago and gagged. It was just too strong and bitter for you. You liked cream and sugar in your coffee.

You liked things that tasted sweet. Joshua said sweetness reminded him of you, which is why he asked for an extra two pumps of the liquid sugar in his drink earlier.

“What?” You asked softly, setting your mug on the table. Joshua shook his head, his smile widening ever so slightly as he set his own cup down. “Nothing,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders but the smile remained. “Are you taking the mickey out of me?” You asked. Joshua laughed and shook his head. “That was awfully British of you,” he said and it was your turn to laugh.

“You’ve been watching too many of those BBC shows again, haven’t you?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. You shook your head. “No, I’ve just been rewatching Doctor Who,” you admitted, looking away and out the window next to you.

The street outside was bustling with people, most of them enjoying the pleasant end of summer weather. Sejong was a smaller town near Daejeon and it was the town you happened to call home.

The quaint small town atmosphere greeted you the moment you pulled onto the main street. The smell of pine and fresh mountain air greeted many travelers who picked this town as their vacation spot, and for good reason.

The town offered a wide variety of activities, from mountain climbing to camping and hiking. It was also close to a lake that was popular with tourists and residents alike.

A hot spring was rumored to be in the area, though you'd never set sights on it, and you'd lived in Sejong all your life, explored much of the forests, and seen many things under the sun and moon alike.

But no hot springs.

You used to enjoy summers in Sejong, especially when you were younger. Spending all day with your friends, going to the lake and relaxing on the shore by the swim beach. You had spent many summers of your youth at the lake, both at the swim beach and exploring the lake's edges with your friends.

Seungcheol and Joshua always led the adventures with you, your best friend Lilah, and Jeonghan trailing behind. Sometimes Wonwoo would join you but most of his summers were spent interning at his father’s publishing company.

When your friend group wasn’t at the lake, you could be found at each other’s houses, or for you and Lilah, you could be found at what the two of you called your ‘secret place.’ It was a small clearing in the woods near the edge of town that was full of wildflowers during the spring and summer months. You’d meet up during the day and sometimes just the two of you at night. It was a pact that only you girls would meet there and that no boys were allowed.

You had so many fond memories of summer you weren’t sure when you started dreading the hotter months of the year. Maybe it was a subconscious thing once you became an adult.

When you’re a kid, summer is a time for breaks from school. Time for friends, staying up late, and partying. When you became an adult, summer didn’t stop the daily grind. You still had work to do. It made you appreciate your parents more the older you became.

“Y/N?” You heard Joshua speak, pulling you out of your thoughts and turning your attention to him once more. “You alright, babe?” He asked, brows knitting g together in concern. You nodded, giving him a smile. “Yeah, just thinking,” you said, picking up your mug and taking another deeper sip of the hot coffee.

Though it was technically summer, you were glad it was ending, and autumn was beginning to settle in. The mornings were cooler, the days were getting shorter, and the nights were getting longer. The leaves barely started to change color, but you already caught little glimpses of yellow, orange, red, and brown amongst the green.

“What are you thinking about?” Joshua asked, and you turned back to look at him. “Just the past,” you said with a shrug, resting your hands on the table before you, fingers wrapping around the warm mug. Joshua shifted in his seat, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table. “What about it?” He asked softly, resting his chin in his hand.

“Just how much easier things used to be. No worries, no bills, no rent, no traumas.”

Joshua’s expression changed, a frown settling on his face before he reached out to take one of your hands softly in his. He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, studying your expression before he spoke. “You know it wasn’t your fault,” he said suddenly.

You glanced up at him, eyes meeting his gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he added. A small smile formed on your face. “I know,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

The tender moment was interrupted by your phone buzzing on the table top. You didn’t want to answer it, almost glaring at it for ruining your precious time with your boyfriend. He glanced at the screen, picked up the device, and turned it towards you. Your eyes read the name that flashed across the screen as the phone continued to buzz in his hand. You sighed and pulled your hands away to take the device from him.

You slid the lock to answer and held the phone to your ear. “Hey, Lilah,” you greeted your best friend. On the other side, you could hear her breathing heavily and the sound of objects being moved quickly. “Y/N!” She gasped. “Ohmigosh, I’m glad you answered!” You looked up at Joshua who was looking out the window, his expression unreadable.

It was no secret Joshua wasn’t fond of your best friend. More than once, he’d said he thought she was a bad influence on you which you didn’t understand because Lilah has never once pressured you to do anything you would consider bad. Sure, she was covered in tattoos and piercings, but to you, that didn’t change the fact that she was still your best friend underneath all the ink and metal.

Lilah was the loud, outgoing, energetic one between you. You'd met in primary school when she offered to share her brand new crayons with you and declared you her new best friend.

In middle school, the two of you met and befriended Wonwoo and with him came the others. Joshua, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan were a year older than Wonwoo but still as close with him as they were with one another.

“I’M FREAKING OUT Y/N,” Lilah nearly shouted. You cringed, pulling the phone from your ear slightly.

“Calm down,” you said into the receiver, noticing Joshua glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

He’d never understand why you still associated with Lilah. Especially after what happened between her and Jeonghan. To Joshua, you were too good for Lilah. When she started covering herself in tattoos and getting facial piercings, Joshua knew she’d gone off the deep end and he feared she would take you with her.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking away from your boyfriend. “I need you here. Please Y/N it’s an emergency,” Lilah said, voice sounding panicked. You nodded, despite the fact Lilah couldn’t see you. “Okay, calm down, Li. I’ll be right over,” you added, glancing up at Joshua, who glanced back at you as you spoke. Lilah thanked you profusely over the phone until you hung up. You looked up at Joshua, a grimace on your face.

“I know,” he said, giving you a small smile. “Lilah emergency,” he added. You sighed, nodding and turning to grab your bag. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” you said as you got up, Joshua following. You quickly drank the rest of your latte, not wanting it to go to waste. Joshua chuckled as you set the mug back down and turned to him.

He pulled you into a tight hug, resting his head against yours. “Be careful,” he said softly in your ear. You nodded, hugging him back. “I will,” you answered, pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You tried to pull away, but Joshua wouldn’t let you. “I’m gonna need a bit more than that,” he said softly, hand moving to cup your cheek and pull your lips back to his. You giggled, the sound muffled by his lips.

The way he kissed you always left you breathless and wanting more. That was how Joshua always was. He always left you wanting more. “Josh,” you murmured against his lips. “We’re in a coffee shop.”

Joshua hummed and pulled away. “Okay,” he sighed. “Fine.” He pressed one more kiss to your lips before letting go of you. “Text me when you’re done with Lilah,” he said, moving aside so you could walk past him. “I will,” you said, giving him one last smile before walking towards the door and onto the sidewalk.

The walk to Lilah’s wasn’t long as she didn’t live far from the city center. The two of you had almost moved in together but thought better of it as you lived somewhat different lifestyles. You had a day job, whereas Lilah was a night owl, becoming most active once the sun went down and the moon came out.

You, on the other hand, were a day person. You preferred the sunlight to the moonlight. You were a lot like Joshua in that respect. He preferred the daytime over the nighttime. He felt that there was more to do during the day.

Unlike Joshua, you didn’t see anything bad about the nighttime. Sure, you preferred the sun over the moon, but you couldn’t deny there was a certain beauty to the silvery glow of the moon that contrasted with the golden one of the sun. They were opposites, but then again, so were you and Lilah.

Lilah was your moon, and you, her sun.

You found yourself outside her building after a brisk walk and climbed the steps to the front door, punching in the code and pulling open the door. Lilah had given you the code to her building ages ago. She said for emergencies, of course. You had also given her your code, again, for emergencies.

Climbing the steps up to her floor, you wondered what could be so important this late in the afternoon that she had interrupted the already small amount of free time you got with your boyfriend.

Of course, Lilah didn’t know you were with Joshua.

It was more of an impromptu thing, meeting at the cafe. The same one he’d taken you on your very first date. Your order hadn’t changed since then, but Joshua’s had changed a handful of times in the last two years.

Standing before Lilah’s door, you brought your hand up and gave the wood three sharp knocks. Behind the door, you heard a commotion as heavy footsteps made their way to the door. A smile spread over your face as Lilah threw open the door. Her panicked expression morphed into a smile as her eyes landed on you. “Oh, thank god!” She said, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you into her apartment.

Lilah’s apartment was small, a studio with a partition wall separating the living area from her bed. The walls were a very pale lilac gray with white crown molding and baseboards.

There were two large windows in the living room area, allowing larger amounts of natural lighting in. The view from her apartment was the main downtown square. During the day, it was a somewhat boring sight, the buildings, the people, even the square, but at night, everything came to life according to Lilah.

Her kitchen was small but big enough for her. A pair of folding doors off the kitchen opened to a pantry where her washer and dryer sat. The furniture in the living room was mostly gray and black, matching Lilah’s personality perfectly. The light walls were adorned with numerous posters of bands and movies.

Several framed paintings also hung on the walls, a few of them being Lilah’s own art, but one small canvas that hung on the wall separating her bedroom was one you had done.

A small floral piece you remembered from a wine and paint party your mother had hosted. Lilah and her mother had attended, and you weren’t too pleased with your painting, so you opted to toss it when your mother wasn’t looking, but Lilah took it instead and hung it proudly next to hers.

The normally very tidy apartment was in a state of disarray, as if a tiny tornado had wreaked havoc.

As Lilah led you into her bedroom area, you were convinced the tiny tornado was in fact your best friend. Clothes were thrown all over the place, littering the floor and the bed. Shoes had also been tossed carelessly around the room and you looked around, shaking your head.

“What is going on?” You asked, turning to look at your best friend.

“There’s a party tonight. Chris invited me. You remember Chris, right?”

You, in fact, did not remember Chris. Since Lilah and her boyfriend, Seungcheol, broke up, Lilah had seen a variety of different men. Testing the waters, she called it. You shook your head again.

“I don’t think I do,” you admitted, moving to sit on her bed, pushing some of the clothing aside. Lilah groaned. “Yes you do,” she answered. “He’s the really cute one with the naturally curly hair. Dimples, pointed chin, chiseled jawline,” Lilah prattled on as she searched through her clothes.

“You just described like half the guys you’ve introduced me to,” you joked, watching her. Lilah clicked her tongue in disapproval. “He’s the Australian one!” she added quickly and then it dawned on you.

'A-ha.' Come to think of it, you did remember Chris.

Lilah was right, he was really cute. His accent is what really sealed the deal for Lilah. The moment he opened his mouth, she was smitten. You could remember almost seeing hearts in her eyes as she watched him speak. He’d been there with some of his own friends whose names you couldn’t remember.

You knew the other reason Lilah liked Chris so much was that he was covered in tattoos. Not full sleeves, but you knew that the work on his arms cost at least several hundred.

Tattoos weren’t cheap, and despite trying to convince Joshua of that, he still thought people with tattoos were unemployed and lazy. It irked you to no end because you knew how expensive it was. You’d accompanied Lilah to more than one tattoo and piercing appointment and nearly died upon hearing the cost.

“Oh, that one,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

Lilah nodded furtively, holding up a black cropped shirt. “Yes, that one!” Lilah sighed dreamily, tossing the shirt in her hands aside and picking up a black and white striped shirt.

“He texted me earlier and invited me to a party at the old Firestation. You know the one. Station 6,” she explained as she continued to dig through her clothes. This you also did remember.

Station 6 was the old fire station that was sold after a new, more updated building was constructed. The old station was snatched up by some developer intent on turning it into apartments but found the floor plan weird so he resold it for much cheaper, and a younger team bought it and converted it into a nightclub.

“Apparently Minho told him after Ari told him about it and Minho has been trying to get with Ari for like three months now,” Lilah said as she held up a cute black short sleeve top with an off the shoulder neckline.

“I’m going to pretend I understood what you just said,” you said, holding in a laugh. You knew Chris. The other names were foreign to you, or at least you couldn't picture any faces. Lilah did laugh, instead continuing to dig through the piles of clothes on her floor.

"Just help me, please?!"

You looked around the bed where you sat and grabbed the first thing that caught your eye. It was black, like the majority of Lilah's wardrobe, so it was worth a shot. Whatever it took to satisfy your best friend so you could try and get back to your boyfriend.

“Well, why don’t you wear this?” You asked, holding up the article you'd grabbed off the bed. It was a black leather bodycon dress with a lace up bust.

Lilah looked up and studied the dress from her spot on the floor. “I wore that last time I saw Chris,” she said, shaking her head. “I need something else. I really wanna get Chris’ attention,” she added.

"Something to get his attention," you murmured as you looked around before your eyes settled on a flash of red. Leaning over, you snatched it and held it up. “Hey, what about this?” You asked, smiling as you held it up for her to inspect.

It was a red halter dress. There were three cutouts held together with three chain links extending just past the navel. The back was cut to about the mid back. Lilah sat up and walked forward on her knees. She took it from your hands and inspected it. You glanced around and grabbed a tangled mess of black elastic. “And this?” You asked, holding it up.

Lilah looked up at your hands and smiled. She grabbed the mess and got up, running to her bathroom to change. You got up and started searching through her shoes and pulled out a pair of peep toe mesh booties with lace up front and stiletto heels.

You knew Lilah well enough that if you hadn’t chosen a pair of stilettos, she would have been offended. You stood back up, turning to meet her at the bathroom door.

“So… how does it look? How did I do?” You asked through the door. “I gotta give it to you,” Lilah started, before pulling open the door to show you the outfit.

“For someone who wears exclusively pastels, you sure know how to pick out the sexiest outfits,” she said, adjusting one of the straps of the black harness bra.

She noticed the heels in your hand and smiled gleefully. You handed them to her, smirking as she looked them over. “I’m serious,” she added, stepping out of the bathroom and walking over to her bedroom area, where she began picking up her clothes. You helped, putting things back on the hangers and handing them to her.

“Now,” Lilah said, turning to look at you, a wide grin on her face. “We need to pick an outfit for you,” she added.

You shook your head. “Oh no,” you replied.

“I’m not going, Li,” you said, shaking your head. Lilah pouted and moved to kneel on the carpet beside where you sat on the bed.

“Come on, Y/N! Please!!” She begged. You shook your head.

“No, Li. You interrupted my time with Joshua when I wanted to spend more time with him,” you responded. Lilah stuck out her tongue.

“Please, Y/N? You’ll see him on Sunday, won’t you?” She stated, giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

She was right. You would see Josh on Sunday at church with your families. You only attended to keep up appearances, not because you actually believed.

Realizing she wouldn’t let this go until you gave in to her pleas, you groaned and fell back onto the bed in defeat. “Fine!” You grumbled. Lilah let out an excited squeak.

“I’ve got the perfect outfit for you!”

She got to her feet and rushed to her closet while you sat up quickly, mind racing with images of what she might possibly pick out for you. It was pretty obvious you and Lilah had very different tastes and styles when it came to clothing.

You shook your head furiously. “Oh, no. Uh-uh, Lilah!” You blurted out. “I’ll just run home and change,” you added, getting to your feet. “Nonsense,” Lilah said as she dug into the back of her closet.

“I keep a few dresses in here for occasions like this,” Lilah added as she pulled out a dress. She turned and held it up. It was a baby pink bodycon dress, with a ruffle trim around the top. The short puff sleeves also had ruffles around the cuffs, and the bust had a lace up that fell to the navel. The back was somewhat modest with a zipper.

You eyed it; mildly surprised Lilah had even an ounce of pink in her wardrobe that wasn't neon or hot pink. She held the dress out for you to take but you paused, glancing up from the dress to your best friend. "Come on, please, Y/N?" she whined.

You studied her expression before finally sighing in defeat. "You aren't going to let me leave unless I say yes, are you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes when she giggled mischievously.

"Fine! Fine," you said, taking the dress. "I'll be your wing woman tonight." Lilah danced excitedly, thanking you profusely as she moved to dig through her shoes and quickly pulled out a pair you’d borrowed more than once: white satin pumps with stiletto heels and a silver filigree design on the back.

As she handed them to you, and you took them as you shot her a look. “You were planning this the whole time, weren’t you?” You asked. Lilah ushered you to the bathroom and closed the door behind you. Sighing, you quickly slipped off your shoes, setting them on the closed toilet lid before undressing.

You pulled the dress on, zipping it up with some difficulty. It was a little snug but still fit. Shaking your head and gathering your clothes, you emerged from the bathroom and found Lilah waiting in the kitchen for you.

She smiled widely as you set your folded clothes on the counter and you tried to ignore the look on her face as you pulled out your phone, wallet, and lipgloss from your purse. “You look so hot!” Lilah said excitedly. “Oh stop,” you hissed, heat rising to your cheeks.

“You want to wear one of the other dresses?” Lilah asked, and you quickly shook your head. “No,” you answered. “This is fine,” you added, grabbing your compact mirror and reapplying your lipgloss. Lilah had quickly done her makeup while you were in the bathroom.

She'd gone with a blood red lipstick and dark smokey black eye makeup. “We should head out,” Lilah said, checking her phone. “Do you have a small bag?” You asked Lilah, who nodded and disappeared into her room. When she returned, she was holding a small silver clutch and handed it to you.

Opening the tiny purse, you slipped your things into it, adding Lilah’s phone and lipstick when she handed them to you. “Okay,” Lilah said, combing through her hair with her fingers. “Let’s go.” You slipped on your best friend's heels and followed her to the door.

Outside, the sun had started to set, falling below the treeline. The two of you walked, chatting animatedly, when your phone buzzed in the purse. You fished it out and saw a text from Joshua.

Joshy: everything okay?

You: yeah. Lilah just being usual Lilah

Joshy: dramatic? That’s so like her lol so you staying with her or would you like to meet up and pick up where we left off?

You paused, stopping in your tracks as Lilah chatted animatedly. She didn’t notice you’d stopped for a few moments. “Y/N?” She asked. “Everything okay?” You looked up at her, meeting her concerned gaze. “Yeah, let me just answer this text real quick,” you replied, looking back down at your phone and typing a response.

You: I’m gonna stay with Lilah. Girls night. Sorry babe

Joshy: it’s alright baby. Will I see you soon?”

You: of course. We’ll see each other on Sunday,

Joshy: at church?

You: and after, if you’d like (;

Joshy: Sunday suddenly can’t come fast enough

You giggled, slipping your phone into the purse and joining Lilah, linking arms with her as you walked.

“I think that’s the last box,” Jeongguk said, setting the box he was carrying down on the kitchen counter. Changbin looked up from his phone and back down, sending the text he was currently typing and pocketed his phone.

“Which one is that one?” He asked as he walked over to where his friend stood. “Uhh, kitchen shit,” Jeongguk said, tilting his head to the side to read the hastily scribbled words written in black Sharpie.

Changbin snorted and pushed his friend, who merely chuckled.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually here,” Jeongguk added as he moved to lean over the kitchen island. “Beats sleeping on the road and in shitty roadside inns,” he continued, giving Changbin a pointed look.

“Would you rather sleep in a shitty roadside inn or camp by the side of the road again?” Changbin asked, recalling the first and last time he went camping with Jeongguk. ��Never again,’ he had told himself the following morning.

“Yeah, no. I’m never sharing a tent with you again,” Jeongguk laughed as Changbin joined him. “Hey, it makes for one hell of a story,” the younger man said with a shrug.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, I’ll be sure to regale all the hot babes with tales of how i thought I got bit in the ass by a snake, but it was actually a rock under the base of the tent I happened to roll onto in my sleep,” he said, a goofy grin on his face as Changbin burst into laughter.

“In your defense, it was like three in the morning, and I’m sure it felt exactly like a snake bite in your sleep,” Changbin retorted, making Jeongguk offer him a very rude hand gesture. “I’m just glad things worked out when they did,” Jeongguk finally said softly. “Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t get into this place before the end of the month.”

The smile on Changbin’s face fell slowly. Jeongguk was right. They were cutting it close, but he was lucky to even find this place to begin with. He would have to thank Sungjin again for the heads up.

Changbin felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took it out, heart beating quickly until he saw the notification was from Chris. He visibly relaxed, his muscles no longer tensing, something Jeongguk took notice of immediately.

He waited until Changbin finished texting before he spoke.

“When are you gonna stop doing that?”Jeongguk asked softly. He didn’t mean it harshly. It’s not like he found it annoying. More like it was concerning how his friend tensed up any time his phone went off.

“Huh?” Changbin asked as he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his black cargo pants. “Doing what?” Jeongguk could tell Changbin was trying to feign ignorance but he wasn’t having it.

“You really think she’ll be able to find you? All the way out here?” Jeongguk asked, watching how Changbin winced slightly when he mentioned… her. Albeit not by name. Still, any mention of her was enough to send Changbin on edge.

“You know she hates small towns like this,” Jeongguk continued. “I mean, hell, she didn’t even want to visit Daejeon when we came out for a tattoo convention three years ago!” Changbin knew his friend had a point.

“It’s been what? Almost a year since you’ve seen or heard from her, right?” Jeongguk asked, watching Changbin as he nodded. “Give or take, yeah,” he confirmed. Jeongguk nodded this time. “It’s time to let it go, man. You’re safe. There’s no way she’ll find you out here.”

Changbin exhaled slowly. Jeongguk was right. Changbin knew there was no way anyone from his past would find him out here. It was far from the city. Far from the life he’d lived before. The only thing he brought with him were his problems and one of the few people he could really depend on.

His phone buzzed again and he pulled it out. Chris sure was talkative today.

Chris was the new piercer he’d just hired a couple of months ago when the shop was still being renovated. Chris and Minho had come in, the former being all smiles as he walked in, a certain bounce in his step, while his friend was much more cynical and witty.

[two months ago]

Changbin stood up, admiring his handiwork as he checked the wall for white spots. He’d just finished painting the accent wall near the front of the shop while Jeongguk was working on the large tiger decal he’d started three days ago. Changbin turned to look at his friend’s work.

“Holy shit, dude,” Changbin said as his eyes took in the details and color. Jeongguk was resting on a ladder as if it were the most comfortable place to be, an artist's palette in his hand as he worked on the tiger’s face.

He looked down with a huge grin, one the girls he’d dated in the past said reminded them of a bunny rabbit. Changbin didn’t see what they saw, but that was probably because those girls were trying to woo his best friend, and he was not.

“Looks a lot better than yesterday, huh?” Jeongguk asked as he set the palette on the small tray holder of the ladder and climbed down, hopping past the last few steps and meeting Changbin in the middle of the room to look up at the tiger.

“Yeah, he has teeth now,” Changbin joked. “Doesn’t look like some weird gaping maw.” Jeongguk playfully swung at Changbin with a chuckle. “Fuck you, man,” he laughed as Changbin easily dodged him.

The two were continuing to playfully box at one another until the bell at the front door rang as the door opened.

Changbin turned as two men entered the shop. Both of them were taller than he was but still shorter than Jeongguk. One had dark brown, curly hair tucked under a black plain baseball cap. He wore a simple black tee shirt and grey sweats with black trainers.

He had partial sleeves, all in black ink, decorating his arms as well as a couple on the side of his neck. He also sported a silver barbel on his left eyebrow, a black ring in his septum and a single nose piercing.

The other man, the taller of the two, had longer just as dark brown hair and wore a dark gray shirt with ripped blue jeans and black high top shoes. He had full sleeves in partial color and a single vertical labret piercing.

“Hey,” Jeongguk said, stepping forward. “Sorry guys, we’re not open and still working in here.” The taller of the two raised an eyebrow as the shorter man smiled, dimples appearing on either side of his face.

“You’re hiring, right?” He asked, holding out the flyers Changbin had put up the week before. Changbin looked back up at the man. “Uh, yeah. What kind of experience do you have?” He asked.

He watched as both men pulled out their phones. The taller one showed him an Instagram full of his work. “Do you both do tattoos?” Changbin asked. The shorter one shook his head.

“Minho does tattoos. I’m still learning, but I do piercings,” he answered. Changbin nodded, watching as the shorter man showed him the piercings he’s done.

“You have your licenses and certifications,” Jeongguk asked as he looked over the two men’s Instagram portfolios. Both nodded, providing the necessary documents. Jeongguk looked over the two license and papers before he handed them back and tapped Changbin on the shoulder, nodding towards the front desk.

“Give us just a second,” Changbin said to the men and turned to follow Jeongguk.

“What do you think?” His friend asked, arms crossed over his chest. Changbin glanced over where the two men stood, looking around and inspecting Jeongguk’s tiger wall art. “This is really good,” the shorter man said, smiling at the tiger . “Your work?” He asked, directing the question at Jeongguk, who nodded.

“It’s really good, man.”

Jeongguk turned his attention back to Changbin after thanking the man.

“Well?”

Changbin looked at the two men, giving them the once-over. It was apparent they both knew what they were doing but he needed confirmation. “Let’s give them a test.” Jeongguk nodded and stepped forward.

“What are your names again?” He asked.

“Minho,” the taller man answered.

“This excitable short puppy is Chan,” he added, gesturing to his friend.

“Uh no. Chris,” the shorter man answered.

“Chan is my birth name. I prefer Chris.”

“Okay, Minho,” Jeongguk answered, nodding towards Minho.

“Chris,” he nodded towards the shorter man. “We’re gonna give you both a test.” Minho said nothing but Chris chuckled.

“Okay, but I didn’t study,” he joked.

Minho rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him and his dumb jokes,” he said softly. Changbin let out a low laugh.

“Jeongguk, take Minho to your station,” he instructed before turning to Chris.

“You come with me.”

Chris followed Changbin to his station. “Are there any piercings you aren’t comfortable performing?” Changbin asked as he dug through a box, pulling out a few supplies. He pulled a rolling tray over to him with the toe of his boot.

Chris shook his head. “I’ve done almost everything. Dermals, tongues, nipples, hell, I’ve even done a few genital piercings,” he answered as Changbin set up the tray. Changbin looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re a braver man than me,” he murmured with a smirk.

“I don’t want anyone’s junk in my face.”

Chris shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me,” he said with a grin. “And the smell doesn’t bother you?” Changbin asked as he moved the tray over to his chair. Chris shook his head. “Nah. I always wear a mask and I get it done as soon as possible so I don’t have to smell anything.”

Changbin snorted as he sat on the chair. “Alright. I’ve set you up to do—” he started, but Chris interrupted him. “Nipple? Not gonna lie, I figured you’d already have them done,” he said with a sly grin.

Changbin untucked his shirt and pulled it off. “I just never got around to it. It’s hard to pierce yourself, and Kook doesn’t do piercings,” he said as he set his shirt aside.

Chris seemingly entered his professional mode. His cheerful demeanor didn’t drop as he washed his hands quickly, returning to put on the gloves.

“Kook?” Chris asked as he got to work. “Which side?” He asked, pointing at Changbin’s chest. “Doesn’t matter to me,” Changbin answered. “Right side is fine.” Chris started prepping the area, wiping it with an alcohol pad.

“Kook is my partner,” Changbin finally responded to Chris’ earlier question.

“Oh, business partner or…?” He trailed off. Changbin chuckled as Chris prepared the needle.

“Business. He’s a great guy and my best friend but I’m very much into women,” Changbin answered as Chris laughed with him.

“Hey, no judgment here,” Chris said, preparing the barbel before grabbing the small forceps. “How well do you handle pain?” Chris asked as he carefully clamped the forceps on Changbin’s right nipple.

“I’m covered in tattoos,” Changbin answered with an amused tone. “I’d say pretty well,” he added as Chris picked up the needle.

“You’d think people who are covered in tattoos handle pain well but Minho is the biggest baby in existence,” Chris whispered as he leaned in closer to see what he was doing.

“I heard that.” A voice called from across the hall, making Changbin and Chris both chuckle. “Deep breath in,” Chris instructed. Changbin breathed in. “And out,” Chris said and as Changbin exhaled, he felt the slight sting of the needle.

“You didn’t even wince,” Chris noted as he pulled the barbel through and carefully secured the screw ball on the end before wiping the area one last time.

Changbin picked up his shirt. While Chris cleaned up the used items and removed his gloves, Changbin pulled his shirt back on.

“So, do I get the job?” Chris asked as Changbin moved the tray aside and set the rest of the stuff to be cleaned.

“How are you with painting?” Changbin asked as he tucked his shirt back into his pants. “Uh, I’m no Picasso, but I’ve painted rooms before,” Chris said with a shrug. “And Minho?” Changbin asked as they walked towards the doorway.

“He’s the artist. Much better than me,” Chris answered, following Changbin into the room where Jeongguk’s station was. They turned and watched while Minho worked. Jeongguk had pulled his shirt off and was sitting facing away from Minho while the younger man drew a small flash tattoo.

It wasn’t anything intricate or fancy. The lines were clean, and his hand very steady. “You better not be drawing a dick,” Jeongguk said jokingly. Minho snorted but continued to work.

“Nah,” he replied, stopping for a second to wipe some ink and blood from Jeongguk’s skin, a smirk forming as his response formed in his head.

“It's a butt.”

In reality, it was a small sheet style ghost with a little balloon that read ‘dead inside.’

Changbin held back a laugh as a grin spread across his face. The style was cute and cartoonish, but the sad ghost eyes and the balloon really set it apart. “I know it’s supposed to be a flash tattoo, but you should totally fill that in red,” Changbin said as he leaned over, pointing at the balloon.

“Great,” Jeongguk said sarcastically. “I got a red ass on my back.”

His response had the other three men bursting into laughter.

When he finished, Minho cleaned up while Jeongguk managed to get a glimpse in the mirror. “Hey, that’s pretty neat. I like the balloon,” he said as he looked over his shoulder at the little ghost.

“I almost did the ghost with a ski mask and gun,” Minho answered as he finished cleaning up and washed his hands. “That would have been a good one, too,” Jeongguk replied, pulling his shirt on.

“So,” Chris asked again with a smile on his face. Changbin and Jeongguk exchanged glances. Jeongguk nodded at his friend, and Changbin turned back to the two.

“You’re hired.”

[present day]

The ringing of Changbin’s phone brought him back to the present, pulling him out of his memories. The caller ID told him it was Chris. He answered it, holding the device up to his ear. “Hey,” he answered.

“Alright, I know you said not to call you without asking first, but there’s this club. Minho and I are going. You remember Ari?” Chris said into the receiver.

Changbin did remember Ari. She was the blonde girl that often came to the shop to see Minho. He also remembered the way Minho looked at Ari whenever she was around. It was a fondness he’d never seen in the two months he’d known the man.

“Yeah, I remember Ari,” Changbin answered, ignoring the way Jeongguk looked up, listening in to his side of the conversation. Jeongguk mouthed at Changbin, trying to figure out what was going on, but Changbin waved him off.

“Well, her friend Hana has been in the shop lately, and she’s got an eye for you. She wants to meet you. So the task to invite you to come out with us has fallen to me. Would you kindly grace us with your presence, boss?” Chris explained, ending in an ask. “We would greatly enjoy your company.”

Changbin snorted. If Chris had asked this in front of him, he’d playfully push or swipe at him. “Yeah, I guess I can make an appearance,” Changbin answered.

“Great! What about Jeongguk? Is he free?”

Changbin told Chris to hold on, putting the call on mute before speaking to Jeongguk. “Chris and Minho are inviting us to come out to a club with them. Apparently one of Ari’s friends wants to meet me,” he explained.

Jeongguk bobbed his head from side to side before nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

Changbin unmuted the call and brought the phone to his ear with a smile.

“Yeah. We’re in.”

You’d never been to the old fire station. The brick exterior hadn’t been touched, even leaving up the old Station 6 sign. Heavy bass sounded from inside the building, muffled by the bricks. You followed Lilah to the door and squeezed your way in. Most of the original structure had been untouched.

The entry hallway was crowded with people moving to and from the dance floor, which was the old fire truck bay. You followed Lilah into the old garage and stood to the side while she looked around, no doubt looking for Chris. You instead took the time to look around at the decor.

The brick inside had been painted black, and there was now a second balcony above the dance floor. The floor where people danced was a step down with a raised DJ booth in the far corner from where you stood. The bar was packed, every seat taken. The tables against the railing separating the dance floor were standing only.

The bar stools and the standing tables matched round black tops with black steel legs. The bar top was black quartz and shiny, catching the lights from above as they swirled and painted the dance floor and patrons in a shower of rainbow and neon lights.

“I see them!” Lilah said to you, leaning in to speak in your ear so you could hear her over the booming music. You nodded, showing that you understood. Lilah took your hand and led you past the bar, following the flow of the crowd until she managed to squeeze into a small booth in the far corner.

She sat down, pulling you gently with her, your butt landing on the cushioned bench next to her. You recognized the man next to her. It was Chris. He turned to look at her as she tapped a finger against his tattooed forearm. His shocked expression morphed into a huge grin, and he greeted her warmly and hugged her.

“You remember my best friend, Y/N?” Lilah asked, gesturing to you, and your attention was drawn from the old garage doors that had been left intact, but no doubt the wiring cut so they couldn’t be opened. Chris gave you a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” he said, leaning forward to shake your hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he added, reaching towards the table to grab his drink.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t know I’d be coming until about twenty minutes ago,” you replied, nudging Lilah, who gave you a sheepish smile. “I can’t come out without my best friend!” She said with an exaggerated shrug.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention away as Lilah started to chat with Chris. Sitting in the same corner booth were some faces you recognized but couldn’t put their names to their faces. Your eyes landed on someone you’d never seen before. He looked to be about your age, with short black hair with bangs that fell into his eyes. His attention was focused on the girl sitting next to him.

He wore a black fitted button down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his heavily tattooed forearms. You noticed the way the fabric of his shirt stretched every time he moved. This guy looked like he was born in a gym. You found yourself unable to look away from him.

He smiled, no doubt at something the girl next to him had whispered in his ear. He shook his head and leaned forward, grabbing his drink and taking a sip. He nestled back against the cushion, arm resting on top of the cushion behind the girl.

She was clearly enjoying the attention he was giving her. Your eyes wandered, taking in the tight black jeans and black leather combat boots. The man leaned forward to look at the guy sitting on the other side of the girl. He was equally as tattooed as the first with an eyebrow and lip piercing.

He had shorter brown hair, styled back to show off his forehead. He turned to look at his friend. You could see his mouth moving, not hearing what was being said. The second man, the brunet, nodded before turning back to the girl with purple hair he had been talking to.

The first man stood up and held out his hand to the girl, which she took it excitedly, letting him pull her up, the brunet man following with the purple haired woman.

You looked away quickly as the four walked past, no doubt heading for the dance floor. As you turned to look at Lilah your eye caught another man staring at you. You recognized him as one of Chris’ friends.

You were sure Lilah had mentioned his name before. Min-Soo? Min-young? Minho? You knew it started with Min. He was looking at you, a curious expression on his face. When your eyes met his, he raised an eyebrow and a smirk slowly started to form on his lips. You tapped Lilah quickly, catching her attention.

“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” you said over the music. Lilah held up her finger, telling you to wait a moment. She turned back to Chris to explain where the two of you were going. He offered to come with and Lilah took him up on his offer.

You soon found yourself squished between Lilah and one of the patrons sitting on a stool at the bar. You apologized to the woman but she just smiled and turned back to her friend.

“What are you drinking?” Chris asked Lilah. She glanced at the back of the bar as a bartender came by.

“Whiskey,” she replied. “Neat.”

Chris turned to the bartender to order two whiskies, both neat before he turned to look past Lilah at you.

“What would you like, Y/N?” He asked. Your head snapped to look at him. “Oh, uh…” you trailed off, glancing at the bar before speaking quickly. “Whiskey sour is fine,” you answered.

Chris nodded, turning to the bartender to add your drink to his tab. The bartender nodded, getting to work on your drinks. You turned around to look over the crowd of people on the dance floor, and somehow, your eyes found him again. His attention was on the girl he’d been sitting with, hands on her waist as they danced closely.

Feeling as if you were intruding, you turned away. A moment later, you felt the girl on the stool next to you slip away, leaving the spot vacant but only for a second.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Goody-Two Shoes,” a low but seductive voice said in your ear.

You turned to see the Min-something guy from before. You rolled your eyes as Lilah reached across to smack his arm. “Don’t call her that, Minho!” she said, frowning. His smile widened as he waited for the bartender.

“Enjoying the show?” He asked, and you turned to give him a confused look. He nodded over his shoulder.

“The way you were eyeing him so hard, I’m surprised someone like you would even be interested,” Minho said, voice low enough that only you could hear him. You looked away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered. He scoffed. “I’m not blind, sweetheart,” he said patronizingly.

“I saw you checking him out earlier. What? Is your pompous asshole boyfriend not doing it for you anymore?”

You felt the heat rising from the pit of your stomach. Before you could answer him, your drink was set in front of you. You thanked Chris, who gave you a warm smile before you turned to look at Minho, a smirk still plastered all over his face.

Taking a sip of your drink gave you enough courage to bite back. “I suggest you get your eyes checked, Min-ho,” you said, adding emphasis to the last syllable of his name before Lilah dragged you away from the bar and back to the booth.

Back on the cushioned seat, you sat nestled next to Lilah as she spoke animatedly with Chris and the girl Minho had been sitting with earlier. You didn’t join in the conversation though you did listen in.

“Good eye, Ari,” Chris said, his eyes on Changbin and Hana as they danced on the dance floor. “She’s really cute. Totally looks like his type,” he added as Minho returned, sliding into the booth and cozying up next to the blonde who smiled.

“I knew the moment we walked into the shop, she’d fall for him,” Ari answered, lifting her glass to take a sip. “They do look really good together,” she added. Chris smiled, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, pat yourself on the back,” he said with a chuckle. Ari smiled again. “Thank you. I think I will,” she said, reaching over her shoulder to lightly pat herself on the back, making Chris and Lilah both laugh.

Minho set his glass down and turned to lean into Ari, whispering in her ear. She nodded and followed as Minho stood up. “We’ll be right back,” she said as she took Minho’s hand and followed as he gently pulled her along.

You watched as they walked past, having zoned out of the conversation halfway through. You felt pressure on your shoulder and turned your head to see Lilah resting her chin on your shoulder. She gave you a smile which you returned.

“You okay?” Lilah asked as a slower song started to play over the speakers. You nodded. “I’m okay,” you answered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Chris down the rest of his drink before he placed a hand on Lilah’s shoulder.

She sat up and turned as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. She nodded before turning to you. “We’re gonna go dance,” she announced. You nodded wordlessly, taking a sip of your drink. “You should come with us,” Lilah added, looking at you with a peculiar expression. You shook your head.

“You came here for him,” you whispered as Chris stood up.

“I’m your wing woman, remember? Go dance with him. Sweep him off his feet,” you said softly, offering your best friend a reassuring smile.

Lilah nodded and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “We’ll be right back,” Chris said over the music. You shook your head.

“Take your time,” you half yelled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you added. Chris smiled and nodded to your drink.

“If you finish that, go get another and put it on my tab. It’s under Bang,” he said as Lilah got to her feet. You nodded as they squeezed past you but made a mental note not to do that . You felt bad if anyone bought you things.

You already had so much. You didn’t need anyone buying you things when you could buy them yourself. You continued to sip on your drink, pulling your phone out to see if you had any text.

Other than Wonwoo telling you he was expecting a package soon, there were no notifications, and it was radio silence from Joshua, leaving you to wonder what he was up to. ‘He’s probably reading a book or catching up on that anime,’ you told yourself with a smile. ‘My goofy weeb boyfriend.’

Once you’d finished your drink, you decided to get another and got up, heading over to the bar, squeezing between two tall men where a very pretty female bartender with baby pink hair smiled at you.

“Hi, hun,” she greeted you, leaning in to hear your order. You got the same whiskey sour and opened your borrowed purse to pull out some cash to pay.

“Let me,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a strange man beside you smiling down at you. He was quite handsome, and tall, with medium brown hair and very prominent dimples.

“I’m Dae-hyun,” he added as the bartender made your drink, eyeing the man suspiciously. “Y/N,” you said politely. “And thank you, but I've got this,” you added, pulling some notes out of your wallet.

“How else am I supposed to get your attention, though?” Dae-hyun asked. “Come on. Let me buy you one drink,” he pressed, but you shook your head. “No, thank you. Really, I appreciate it, but I can buy my own drinks.”

You turned to pay the bartender as she set your drink down, not missing the way Dae-hyun’s eyes scanned your body, a smirk on his lips. “Hey, you gonna buy a drink or just oggle my patrons?” She barked, making the man jump and grimace.

You turned and watched as the man slunk away and turned back to pay the bartender. She pushed the drink towards you and waved her hand. “It’s on the house, honey,” she said with a wink.

You thanked her, putting the bills instead in the tip jar and thanked her again before leaving the bar and returning to the corner booth that still sat empty save for the server cleaning up the empty glasses.

You thanked her as she walked by and returned to your seat, fishing your phone out again, trying to pass the time.

You could have left the moment Chris asked Lilah to dance with him. Your mission had been completed as Lilah’s wing woman, but you sat on the black cushion, sipping on your free drink.

As you scrolled through your Instagram feed, loud giggles announced the arrival of part of the group, and you glanced up to see the blonde girl, Ari, and Minho return.

“You’re still here?” Minho asked as he plopped down next to Ari, eyeing you suspiciously. “You can leave, you know.” Ari lightly slapped his arm. “Don’t be mean,” she said sternly. “If Y/N wants to stay here, she can,” she added, smiling warmly. Her kindness surprised you but you smiled back.

Minho leaned forward to grab his glass and grumbled something you couldn’t hear but Ari slapped his arm again. “Be nice!” She hissed as you turned your attention away as more footsteps approached.

It was the man from before and the girl he’d gone to dance with. You looked away as they sat down, feeling the guy’s eyes on you. You glanced back and met his gaze. This was the first time he’d acknowledged your presence.

You barely got a good look at his face before his attention turned to the girl next to him and you felt like you could breathe, your cheeks growing warm. You decided to chalk that up to the alcohol coursing through your system as Lilah and Chris finally returned.

“Is it just me or is it hot?” Lilah asked as she took her glass from Chris, thanking him before taking a sip. The girl whose name you did know nodded. “It’s really hot,” she replied, looking at the man beside her.

Her eyes moved past him to you and she gave you a blank stare, glancing you over as if she’d just noticed you existed before she turned away when Ari called her name. “Hana, do you want to go back out there? Minho won’t go with me!” Ari pouted. Hana shook her head at Minho and got up.

“I’ll dance with you,” Hana said, reaching out to take Ari’s hand and the pair squeezed past the rest of the group and headed onto the dance floor again. You looked away from them to find the black-haired man looking at you again.

His gaze didn’t feel scrutinizing or patronizing in any way. It was more like he was trying to figure you out simply by looking at you. You turned your gaze away but felt his eyes on you. Lilah and Chris were chatting animatedly next to you about his new job.

“Yeah, I just walked in and showed him what I’ve done. Then I had to perform an actual piercing,” Chris explained as Lilah hung onto every word. “Like, you had to pierce him?” She asked, jaw dropping when Chris nodded.

You glanced down at your now empty drink, trying to decide if you should get another. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you told yourself as you set the empty one down and announced to your best friend you were getting another.

Lilah whipped around, gently grabbing your hand and stopped you before you could get up.

“Are you sure you can handle another drink, Y/N?” She asked, eyes studying your face, her expression full of concern.

“Oh, come on, Lilah. She’s a big girl,” Minho said as he slid into his seat next to Ari, who had returned with Hana before Hana pulled the man she’d been with up and onto the dance floor again. Minho was giving you a smirk but like Lilah, Ari had a look of concern. You weren’t sure why.

You narrowed your eyes at Minho, wanting to snap back but Lilah gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Ignore him, Y/N,” she said, turning your attention back to her.

“You know your tolerance better than anyone,” she added. You looked at your two empty glasses on the table and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll just go to the bathroom,” you answered before getting to your feet and adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Lilah asked but you shook your head, giving her a smile. “I’ll be fine, Li,” you said before turning and walking away from the booth.

You made your way out of the garage and towards the bathroom, only to bump into someone. The force at which they ran into you almost knocked you over. “Whoa! Sorry,” said a familiar voice as two hands steadied you.

You looked up into the face of one of Joshua’s best friends.

“Hey, Cheol!” You said excitedly, sharing a hug with him. He smiled brightly at you. “I didn’t know you were going to be here!” He said, looking around. “You didn’t come with Josh, did you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Uh, no, I came with… Lilah,” you said, voice dropping as you said your best friend’s name. Seungcheol acted as if hearing his ex-girlfriend’s name didn’t bother him but you knew better. As far as you and Joshua knew, Seungcheol was still heartbroken over Lilah and Jeonghan’s drunken hookup.

It had been only a few months ago at a lake house party. Seungcheol, unfortunately, had work responsibilities so he couldn't attend. You'd gone with Joshua to appease "the party gods" as Lilah put it.

Halfway through, Lilah was much more drunk than you'd seen in a long time and Joshua offered to take both of you home. You went with him to get your jackets and when you returned to where you'd left Lilah, she was nowhere to be found and no one knew where she'd gone. You tried looking for her but Joshua said to let her be.

You felt like you should have looked harder.

The next morning Lilah showed up at your door, hungover and crying. She told you she waited for when you and Joshua went to get your jackets and during the time you were gone, she'd run into Jeonghan, who was also quite plastered himself.

One minute they were chatting, the next, they were stumbling into an empty room, and when she woke up the next morning, she realized they'd had sex. She was an absolute mess, beating herself up about how to break the news to Seungcheol.

When she finally did, she didn't ask for his forgiveness though he was ready to give it freely. She didn't cry, she didn't beg, she simply apologized and ended things, telling Seungcheol that there was no fixing this. What she'd done couldn't be undone or taken back.

According to Joshua, Seungcheol was heartbroken. He'd lost the love of his life and a best friend in one swoop. He didn't handle the betrayal he felt towards Jeonghan well and ended up giving Jeonghan a black eye. Joshua had felt conflicted about the whole thing, wanting to be there for Seungcheol but not knowing who was at fault .

You knew that Lilah and Jeonghan messed up but Lilah was your friend. Seungcheol was Joshua’s friend before he was yours. So you'd distanced yourself out of respect not only for Lilah but for Seungcheol as well, not sure if he'd even want to see you.

Judging by his response upon seeing you now, you knew he didn't hold you accountable . He was his usual cheerful self.

“Oh?” He asked, lifting his glass to his lips to take a sip. You nodded, unsure how to recover from the awkward silence between you. “You don’t have a drink?” He asked, noticing your empty hands. You shook your head.

“I just finished a second. I’m on my way to the bathroom,” you replied, gesturing towards the hall that led to the bathrooms. “Want me to get you one?” Seungcheol asked. You shook your head. “No, that’s okay,” you answered but Seungcheol cut you off. “Speak of the devil,” he said, a smile forming on his face.

You turned to look at who Seungcheol was looking at and your heart nearly dropped into your stomach.

Joshua was walking over, a smile on his own face, until he caught sight of you. His smile faltered for a moment before he turned his attention to Seungcheol. “We were just talking about you!” Seungcheol said, greeting his friend. Joshua looked from his friend to you. “Were you now?” He asked, to which Seungcheol nodded.

“I thought she came with you,” Seungcheol admitted. “No. She didn’t,” Joshua said, his eyes not leaving yours. “Well, I’ve got to use the restroom,” you said quickly. “It was nice catching up with you, Cheollie,” you said, giving him a smile before walking away to head for the bathroom.

Joshua muttered something to Seungcheol before following you, grabbing your arm a little too hard and turning you to face him. “Sorry,” he muttered, noticing how you winced in his grip. “I thought you were having a girls night,” he said, his voice back to normal volume since the music was now muffled as you were no longer in the same room.

“I am. I came here with Lilah,” you answered, eyes darting to the side where you saw another familiar face. “I thought you meant you were staying in,” he said, drawing your attention again.

“You know, a girl's night, like, movies and pizza or something,” he added. You shook your head. “No, Lilah wanted to come see Chris, and I said I’d come with her,” you replied. "Be her wing woman of sorts," you added with a laugh.

Joshua’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who the hell is Chris?” He demanded, sounding suddenly angry that you were talking about another man. 'Oh boy, here we go.'

You didn’t like the tone of his voice.

“Chris is one of Lilah’s friends ,” you stated. Joshua crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t like it,” he said quickly. “Don’t like what?” You asked, also not liking the direction this conversation was going.

He was stalling you, and you really had to pee. “I don’t like the idea of you and Lilah alone with some strange man,” he countered. You rolled your eyes. “He’s not some strange man, Josh,” you retorted.

“He’s her friend and he happens to be a very nice man,” you added. Joshua scoffed, now his turn to roll his eyes.

“Nice people don’t hang around these places, Y/N,” he replied, and you had to give him a deadpan blank stare.

“Are you saying you aren’t a nice person?” You asked, making him realize his contradiction. He was getting frustrated with you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut as he breathed slowly. “You know what I meant."

You saw his eyes flicker from you to something behind you for a moment before turning his attention back to you. “So then I’m not a nice person?” You inquired, trying to get him to admit he was making bullshit up. Joshua rolled his eyes again. He was over this.

“You know damn well what I meant, Y/F/N Y/L/N,” he stated, clearly annoyed with the banter you were giving him.

“Oh-ho-ho,” said a voice as the owner slid up beside you and draped an arm around your shoulders. “Busting out the government names are we now, Joshua Hong?”

You glanced up to see Minho, a smirk on his face. Joshua glared at the younger man. You could see that the simple action of putting his arm around your shoulders nearly set him off.

Joshua didn’t like it when other men looked at, let alone touched you. He was about to grab Minho by the collar when you shook Minho's arm off your shoulder.

“What are you doing here, Minho?” You asked, looking at him. He tore his gaze from Joshua’s, giving you an uncharacteristically warm smile. “Lilah was wondering what was taking you so long,” he said before looking back up at Joshua.

“I volunteered to come retrieve you,” he added, linking his arm with yours if only to set Joshua off further. You pulled your arm from his.

“Well, I still haven’t been to the bathroom,” you admitted.

"Well, why did you say so?" Minho asked, gesturing for you to hurry. “I’ll wait here. I promised Lilah I’d retrieve you and retrieve you I shall,” he added, causing you to roll your eyes before excusing yourself and hurrying down the crowded hallway.

Minho looked back at Joshua as you disappeared, his smile falling quickly. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Joshua asked, gritting his teeth. Minho was not easily intimidated, especially not by men like Joshua Hong.

“No,” Minho said, taking a step forward and prodding Joshua in the chest with his finger. “Who do you think you are?” Joshua was taken aback. “What?” He asked incredulously.

“I saw that,” Minho stated. “The way you grabbed her like that. What makes you think you can act that way?” Minho demanded, his voice low so only Joshua could hear him. “She’s my girlfriend, Lee. I don’t think it’s any of your concern—” Joshua started but he was cut off by Minho once again, who jabbed him in the chest with his finger.

“She may be your girlfriend,” he repeated. “But that doesn't make her your property,” he added. “You don’t get to grab her and throw her around like some kind of rag doll." Joshua opened his mouth to retort but was cut off once again by Minho's external monologue.

"You know, I've always wondered where those bruises come from,” he added. Joshua’s eyes widened. Minho could see he'd hit a nerve. "It all makes sense now."

“How dare you accuse me of abusing Y/N,” he snarled. A hand came between the two. “Gentlemen,” a voice said. Joshua looked down and noticed a much shorter man with black hair pushing him and Minho apart.

“This is a public space,” he added, glancing from Minho to Joshua.. “Let’s not cause a scene.”

“Who the hell are you?” Joshua asked, albeit very rudely.

“Changbin,” the raven haired man replied. “Seo Changbin,” he added, holding out his hand for Joshua to shake. Joshua looked down at the man’s tattoo covered hand and chose to ignore the gesture, instead looking at Minho and narrowing his eyes.

“Stay out of my relationship, Lee Minho,” he spat angrily before turning and walking back to meet up with Seungcheol and their friends, leaving the two men standing there. Changbin looked at his older friend.

“Okay,” Changbin said, jerking his thumb behind him in the direction Joshua had gone. “Who the fuck was that?” He asked. Minho held out his hand in a grand gesture. “Joshua Hong,” he replied.

“Sejong’s very own pompous asshole boyfriend,” he added, causing the younger man to snort and roll his eyes. “Wait… boyfriend?” Changbin asked, suddenly confused.

“Who’s his girlfriend?”

In the women’s restroom, you opened the stall door having finished your business and approached the sink, washing your hands quickly as you glanced up at your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your makeup seemed fine despite the fact you had been crying just a few minutes ago.

You hoped no one would notice.

Your eyes caught sight of a red mark on your arm and glanced down at the spot where Joshua had grabbed you. “Shit,” you whispered, moving to dry your hands and inspect the mark.

If Lilah didn’t notice the makeup, she was bound to notice this. According to Lilah, Seungcheol had done the same thing a few times, grabbed her by the arm much harder than he intended to.

‘He must be really mad, if he grabbed me this hard,’ you thought as you finished drying your hands. You quickly rid yourself of that bullshit thought and shook your head quickly. ‘No,’ you told yourself.

‘It doesn’t matter how mad he is. Nothing gives him the right to grab me like that.’

Giving yourself the once over one last time with a quick nod to your reflection, you pulled open the door and stepped out into the hall. As you wound your way through the crowd of people, you were knocked backwards into someone and turned to apologize profusely.

The guy turned, and you saw it was the guy from the booth. The one Minho had caught you staring at. “Sorry,” you muttered.

“Someone knocked me over.” The man looked over and noticed several much taller guys crowded nearby before his eyes returned to you and nodded.

“You alright?” He asked, taking you by surprise. ‘Why is he asking me if I’m okay when I’m the one who bumped into him?’ You wondered but decided against asking him that very thing. “I’m okay,” you answered with a nod.

The smile that formed on his face almost took your breath away. “Then no harm done,” he said softly, turning back to the girl leaning against the wall that he’d been previously kissing. You turned away as they went back at it.

‘Awkward.’

As you headed out of the hall, you saw Minho standing in the same place you’d left him. He was looking over the crowd, clearly agitated but you couldn’t discern what had him scowling like that.

‘He… actually waited?’

Minho must have sensed someone was watching him and turned to find you standing a few steps behind him, watching him with a peculiar expression. Perhaps you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you.

After witnessing your encounter with Joshua, he wasn’t going to leave you to walk alone when that asshat was still in the building, probably waiting for you to appear so he could swoop in and do more pompous asshole boyfriend shit.

Minho’s expression softened as you approached him. You glanced around only after realizing Joshua wasn’t anywhere in sight. You wondered what Minho could have said or done to get Joshua to leave but thought better than to ask.

“Where did Josh go?” You asked as soon as you were within earshot. Minho shrugged his shoulders. “Why do you care?” he answered. You glared at him. “‘Cause he’s my boyfriend,” you retorted, your words failing and expression softening as he offered his arm for you to take.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked suspiciously, taking his arm all the same. “Don’t get used to it,” Minho said as he led you back to the booth, stopping at the bar to get another drink. “What are you drinking?” He asked. You shook your head. “I shouldn’t have another,” you admitted.

Minho dramatically rolled his eyes with an equally exaggerated sigh.

“It’s not every day I’m offering to buy you a drink so pick something,” he urged, waving his hand. “Fine, a Singapore sling,” you answered. Minho gave you a once over before his lips spread into a wide and slightly mischievous grin.

“Oh, I think I’m gonna like this new you,” he said before turning to tell the bartender, leaving you to silent combust as heat spread across your face.

‘What does that mean? The new me?’

Once the drinks were made, Minho led you back to the booth. You thanked him again and sat next to Lilah.

“There you are!” She said, throwing her arms around you. “I was getting worried!” You patted her on the head, chuckling as you looked up to see Minho leaning across Ari’s lap to speak to Chris.

You noticed the urgency at which he spoke and that his eyes flickered to you and back. Chris asked him something you couldn’t hear, and Minho nodded quickly before speaking again.

Whatever their conversation was about ended as soon as Lilah pulled away from you. “Ooh, what’s this?” Lilah asked upon noticing your new drink, clearly not remembering that she suggested you not get another.

Not giving you a chance to answer, she took it from you and took a sip. Her face scrunched up as she swallowed, handing your glass back to you before she gagged. “What the fuck is that?” She asked as you rolled your eyes.

“A Singapore sling,” you answered, raising the glass to take a sip. “Well it’s disgusting,” Lilah answered. Minho snorted, but it seemed only you heard him. “It’s not that bad, Li,” you answered softly.

“Yeah, we can’t all have the taste buds of a child,” Minho quipped. Lilah and Chris both turned to look at him. “You? Sticking up for Y/N?” Chris asked, looking shocked but amused while Lilah looked just plain shocked.

Minho snorted again in laughter. He held up his drink in a silent cheers, directed towards you. “More likely than you think,” Minho said to his friend before sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as he took a drink and both Lilah and Chris exchanged glances as you took a sip of your drink.

“What happened when I sent you to check on her?” Lilah asked, turning to look at Minho again as he lowered his glass. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Chris looked mildly amused and surprised at the direction the conversation had turned.

“What does that mean?” Lilah asked as you glanced over to the dance floor, trying to ignore the conversation unfolding next to you. An RnB song with heavy bass had started playing, so only couples were on the floor now.

“Y/N,” Lilah said, drawing your attention away from the dance floor. “Huh?”

“What exactly happened that took you so long that I had to send Minho to fetch you?” Lilah asked. Your stomach dropped. ‘Shit.’ You tried to feign a smile and lighthearted expression but could see Minho looking at you from behind Lilah. The scowl you had seen earlier before meeting back up with him was back.

“Oh, uh, I ran into Cheol,” you answered softly, looking down to pick at the hem of your, well actually Lilah’s, dress.

“Oh,” Lilah replied, her curious expression dropping and a blank look crossing her face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Cheol,” Minho said softly, nodding along. “Oh, and Josh,” he added with venom in his voice. You glanced up to see he was looking out at the crowd with a sour expression.

Lilah laughed at the look on Minho’s face. “You look like he pissed in your cornflakes,” Chris said, nudging his friend with a laugh.

“What did he do to you?” Lilah asked, noticing his sour expression wasn’t going away.

Minho shook his head. “Not me,” he replied, eyes moving towards you.

He wondered what it was about Joshua that you loved so much that you shook your head as subtly as possible, clearly not wanting him to bring up what he’d witnessed. Something he’d sent guys to the ER for. Something he would gladly do to Joshua, given the chance.

It was then Minho realized Lilah was still waiting for him to speak. “Then who?” She asked. Minho inhaled and exhaled deeply before shaking his head, forcing a smile.

“Nothing,” he replied. “He’s just a prick.” He raised his glass to his lips and downed the rest of his drink.

‘A dead fucking prick if I catch him doing that again.’

You silently thanked him for not bringing it up as Lilah rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be mean for no reason, Minho,” she said before turning to look at the dance floor. “I have my reasons,” Minho muttered, but Lilah didn’t seem to hear him as he stared into the bottom of his now empty cup.

A new song started playing, something more upbeat but still with a lot of bass. Lilah smiled, bouncing excitedly in her seat. “Y/N, you wanna dance?” she asked, looking at you with a smile. You looked up, eyes wide. “Uh… I don’t know Lilah,” you said softly.

But of course, she didn’t listen. Lilah never listened.

Instead, she took your drink from your hands and set it in front of Chris turning to face him. “Can you watch these for us, please?” She asked, bringing her hands together almost as if in prayer.

When Chris nodded, a fond smile on his face, Lilah thanked him and squealed with delight. “We’ll be right back,” she said before standing up and grabbing your hand. “Come on,” she said, pulling you out of the booth and towards the steps despite your blatant protests.

Once on the dance floor, nestled in the crowd, you finally let loose and danced with your best friend. She always knew how to cheer you up. One song turned into another, and soon, you were dancing to a third song. Lilah always brought out the best in you. She always knew how to have fun, no matter the circumstances.

You were holding her hand and dancing, swaying to the music when you felt two hands on your hips. You turned quickly and found yourself face to face with none other than Joshua.

“Miss me?” Your boyfriend asked softly, smiling when your surprised expression morphed into relief that it was him and not some creep.

“You weren’t there when I got back from the restroom,” you replied, pouting slightly.

'Oh god. Is that what alcohol did to you?'

You felt his hand cup your cheek and you leaned into his touch, your body following his lead.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I had to take care of something,” he added. You pulled back, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away a little. “Wait. No. I’m still mad at you,” you added, looking at him with a serious expression.

Joshua’s free hand came up to caress your other cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, eyes flitting back and forth between yours. “Truly. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, well, it really hurt,” you continued. He pulled you closer, closing the distance between your bodies. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he replied.

Lilah moved to your side and looked between the two of you. “What do you mean you hurt her?” She asked, voice suddenly full of anger. “It was an accident,” Joshua said, turning to look at your best friend. “I didn’t mean to grab her so hard,” he added, gesturing to the red spot on your arm.

Upon seeing it, Lilah’s expression twisted into a scowl, and she reached between the two of you. “Hands off,” she snapped, trying to pull you away from Joshua and interject herself between the two of you.

“Lilah,” you started, but she cut you off. “No,” she said, pointing at you. “He doesn’t get to grab you so hard that he leaves a mark,” she said, nearly shouting the last part at Joshua, who glanced around nervously at the people around you.

A crowd was starting to form. “He doesn’t get to do that and then get off Scot free,” Lilah said angrily. “Lilah,” Joshua said, drawing her attention. “I know you mean well, but please stay out of my relationship with Y/N,” he continued.

“No,” Lilah snapped back. Joshua’s expression shifted from shock to anger. ‘Fuck,’ you mentally cursed. ‘This is not good.’

“Cheol pulled the exact same shit with me,” she spat, standing between you and Joshua. It had been a long time since you’d seen Lilah this angry, and you knew the alcohol wasn’t helping any.

“He’d grab me so hard that I’d bruise, and then he’d apologize, saying he’d never do it again,” Lilah continued as Joshua tried to interrupt. “I’ve seen plenty of bruises on Y/N’s arms to know the signs,” she argued.

You glanced around and noticed Minho and Chris had gotten up. The black-haired newcomer had also gotten up and was watching the scene from the railing. Minho tapped him on the shoulder and nodded. The newcomer stood up straight and followed.

‘Shit.’ You turned back to Lilah.

“Come on,” you said, trying to pull her away from Joshua. “Let’s not do this here.”

“Just because your relationship failed does not mean you need to involve yourself in mine,” Joshua snapped back angrily. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Joshua Hong. You think you’re so high and mighty,” Lilah spat back. You rushed between your best friend and boyfriend, using your body to block them from each other.

“Lilah, don’t do this here,” you pleaded, gently pushing your friend back and trying to break up the escalating fight before anyone got in trouble or seriously hurt. It was not above Lilah to start a physical fight when she was drunk and upset.

“No!” She shouted. “I’m so sick of this shit! He’s just like Cheol! He thinks he’s so goddamn untouch—!”

“Lilah,” Chris said, his hands gently grabbing her around the waist. “I think you promised that you and Y/N would go get pancakes with us,” he said in her ear. “We should go do that,” he added.

Minho, who now stood between you and Lilah, chimed in. “Yeah,” he added. “I think pancakes sound good right now, don’t you, Y/N?” Upon hearing your name, you glanced at him, confusion was written on your face.

As far as you could remember, neither you nor Lilah promised to get pancakes with them. Minho gave you a very pointed look. ‘Oh!’ You understood quickly and played along.

“They’re right,” you said, looking at Lilah. “We did promise”

Joshua stepped forward, moving to grab your hand, but a hand shot out, grabbing Joshua’s wrist. You glanced at the person standing on the other side of you. The man with the black hair and tattoos.

The same one you couldn’t help but stare at earlier and was knocked into outside the bathrooms.

“A promise is a promise,” he said, fixing Joshua with a calm stare. Joshua pulled from his grip. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped. The man held his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat. “My apologies. I just don’t like seeing guys mistreat their partners,” he said, making Joshua round on him furiously.

“Excuse me?” Joshua asked, fixing the man with a bewildered stare.

“Who the fuck are you to accuse me-?” The man cut him off.

“Not accusing,” he said simply. “I’m just saying what I saw.”

Joshua scoffed and chose to ignore what the dark-haired man said. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Y/N,” you heard your boyfriend call your name, attention turning to focus on him as he spoke. “Come on,” he continued. “I’ll walk you home.” You hesitated. ‘Should I really go with him? He’s pretty upset…’

You must have taken too long for his liking because Joshua called your name again. The tone of his voice didn’t sit right with you, so you shook your head. “I think you should take time to cool down,” you finally answered.

‘Fucking finally,’ Minho thought as he looked up from your face to Joshua’s. He had to say he was impressed with your defiance when all he’s ever heard is how obedient you usually were. Could it be the alcohol? Or had you finally had enough of Joshua’s shit?

“Don’t worry mate,” Chris said, the Aussie in him jumping out. “We’ll make sure she gets home safely,” he added, arms around Lilah as he kept her from lashing out at Joshua.

If Joshua was angry before, it was nothing compared to how pissed he was now.

“As if I'd trust any of you,” Joshua said with a scoff.

“I’d trust us more than I’d trust you right now,” Minho said with a shrug. Joshua glared at him, his anger building. The smug grin on Minho’s face wasn’t helping to quell his fury.

Before Joshua could answer, you spoke up, your voice broke through his concentration. “I’ll let you know when I get home,” you promised, no doubt hoping it would be enough of a solution, but Joshua shook his head.

“No,” he protested. “But I really want to get pancakes,” you continued.

“Then I’ll take you to get some,” Joshua replied, taking a step forward. You shook your head. “Another time,” you heard Minho say as he rested his arm over your shoulders. “Don’t worry, Joshy. She’ll be fine with us,” he added.

Joshua’s fist clenched tightly at how too cozy Minho looked with his arm around your shoulders. He’d punched men for lesser things.

“No,” he refused again. “Y/N,” he said, looking from Minho to you. “Come here, now.”

Now it was both you and Minho who didn’t like his tone.

“She’s not some dog you can command,” Minho spat, taking a step forward, but the dark-haired man stopped him. You decided to speak up.

“I’ll see you on Sunday, babe,” you said, reminding him that even if you went to eat pancakes with Lilah’s friends, he was still your man.

He glared at Minho. “If you try anything,” he warned. Minho rolled his eyes. “As if,” he said with a snort. “Don’t worry, Hong. Your precious little princess is safe with us,” Minho added. Chris began leading Lilah away from the group and towards the exit.

Minho’s arm over your shoulders pulled you back, and he wordlessly guided you away from Joshua and towards the exit as well. You glanced back at your boyfriend, and you could see he was more than upset.

He was outright furious.

The air outside the building was cooler than when you entered, and it felt nice after being in a crowded club with such an intense and heated situation. You walked silently beside Minho as you followed Chris and Lilah.

“Wait, are we actually getting pancakes or was that a cover?” You finally asked. “I mean,” Minho started.

“I wouldn’t say no to breakfast right now. There’s that 24 hour place by our apartment,” he added, looking towards Chris.

Chris had stopped walking and was still supporting Lilah’s weight. She was very intoxicated, the drinks she’d consumed finally catching up to her. The almost-fight and her anger probably didn’t help. Knowing her, you felt she would barely make it home before passing out.

“I’d love some breakfast too, but I think this one might be a little too far gone to make it there,” Chris said, nodding at Lilah, who was currently humming, eyes shut as she swayed to music only she could hear. You took a step forward.

“I’ll take her home,” you offered, moving to help support Lilah. “You sure?” Chris asked, looking at you as you took Lilah’s arm and pulled it over your shoulders, your arm going around her waist.

“Yeah. If you guys wanna go get breakfast, I can take her home,” you replied.

“What about you?” The dark-haired man said suddenly, prompting you to turn and look at him. All eyes were on him.

“What about me?” You asked.

“I think what Changbin means,” Minho started, eyes looking at the dark-haired man. ‘So his name is Changbin.’

“Is how will you get home?” Minho continued, turning his gaze to look at you. Shrugging, you looked back at him. “I’ll just walk,” you replied. “My place isn’t that far from Lilah’s.”

“And if your boyfriend is waiting for you at your place?” Changbin suddenly asked. Your eyes fell on him again, confused but also surprised. ‘Why is he being so… protective?’

“Then I’ll just—” you started but Minho cut you off. “I’ll walk you home.” Your gaze fell on him, now properly shocked. ‘Who is this? ‘Cause it’s definitely not the Minho I know.’

“Then I’ll take Lilah home,” Chris said, taking Lilah from you. “That way, you get home much faster,” he added. “But what about your breakfast?” You asked, eyebrow arching. “Eh, we can always get it some other time,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“I’d feel a lot better if I knew you got home safe,” he continued, starting to lead Lilah in the direction of her apartment.

“Wait,” you said quickly, running after them, pulling your things from Lilah’s bag and handing it to Chris. “I almost forgot I had her stuff,” you admitted. Chris took the bag and thanked you.

“We’ll get breakfast another time, I promise!” He called as he continued to walk, leaving you, Minho, and Changbin alone on the sidewalk.

Changbin looked down, checking his watch. “I gotta go,” he said quietly. “I promised Hana I’d be back to pick her up,” he added. Minho nodded before gesturing him off.

“Go ahead, tell Ari I’m sorry,” he said. Changbin nodded.

“I’ll explain everything,” he replied as he walked backwards a few steps. “I’ll walk Y/N home,” Minho said to which you shook your head in protest.

“I’m fine, really,” you replied.

“I can walk myself home.”

Minho rolled his eyes and waved Changbin off before walking towards you, gently grabbing your arm and turning you in the opposite direction.

“Where do you live?” He asked as you walked together. “Just a couple blocks west of Lilah’s apartment,” you replied. Minho nodded, pulling you along.

“Let’s get going then,” he added.

You glanced back as Changbin walked in the opposite direction, back towards the club and disappeared around the corner but not before throwing one final look your way with an expression you couldn’t read.

You and Minho were left in the empty street alone, walking down the sidewalk toward your apartment. Silence fell between you as you walked and you wondered if you should say anything to break the tension.

This was the third time he’d gone out of his way to do something nice for you and you felt you should at least acknowledge that so he didn’t try and use it against you later.

“Thank you,” you finally said softly, not noticing the way Minho looked at you. “For what?” He asked after a beat of silence.

You took a deep breath. “For back at the club. You didn’t have to intervene, you know,” you continued. “Joshua is always like that. He doesn’t pay attention to his own strength.” Minho scoffed. “I’m probably just as strong as him and I’ve never once grabbed anyone hard enough to bruise them, Y/N,” he continued.

“That’s not normal,” he added. “And you shouldn’t have to put up with it.”

You glanced up at him. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you muttered. Minho stopped, pulling a hand from his pocket to grab your arm carefully.

“Stop making excuses for him, Y/N. I told you before he’s a pompous asshole and I’m not taking it back.” You glanced down to where his hand was still on your upper arm. It was a right contrast from the way Joshua had grabbed you earlier.

“If someone loves you, and I mean truly loves you, they don’t hurt you like that,” he continued, his hand dropping from your arm. You said nothing, only nodding slowly. When he realized you weren’t going to speak, Minho let out a sigh shoving his hand back into his pockets.

“Come on,” he said quietly, nodding his head in the direction of your apartment and continuing down the road. You followed behind him, not even noticing how he glanced back at you, a small fond smile on his face.

‘If she wasn’t so up Hong’s ass… maybe then.’ He shook the thought from his head as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. It was almost cute. ‘In another lifetime,’ Minho thought as he glanced skyward briefly.

You must have regretted not bringing a jacket now that the sun had gone down and the temperature had dropped. As you brought your hand up and rubbed your arm, quickly following Minho down the street, he stopped and sighed. ‘Why does she have to be so helpless?’ He wondered, unzipping and removing his jacket.

“Here,” he called out, holding his jacket towards you.

You glanced from him to the jacket and back.

“Just take it before I change my mind,” he continued. You took it carefully from him and pulled it on. “Thanks,” you muttered, zipping it up. Minho said nothing, only humming in response as the two of you continued down the street, silence falling over you once more.

The moon had begun to rise over the tops of the trees, casting a silvery light over everything.

You glanced up, eyes taking in the few stars you could see in the inky midnight blue sky. You were so preoccupied with looking at the stars that you ran into Minho’s body, colliding with him and a loud ‘oof’ leaving your lungs. Minho chuckled, looking at you as he stood still. “You know,” he said softly, turning to face you fully.

“You really should watch where you’re going,” he continued, a smirk starting to appear. You rolled your eyes, thankful for the dark which concealed the way your cheeks burned.

“It’s not like I was expecting you to just stop like that,” you murmured.

“What were you looking at, anyway?” Minho asked, ignoring your words to look towards the sky.

“The stars,” you answered simply, glancing from his face to the shimmering white dots in the blackness of the night sky. Minho’s eyes fell to your face as you stared skyward.

“The stars?” He asked, the smirk on his face growing. You nodded. “The further from the downtown area we get,” you explained softly.

“The brighter they shine.” Minho’s gaze softened slightly as he watched you.

“Alright Galileo,” he sighed loudly, making you tear your eyes from the stars.

“I said I’d walk you home but if I had known it was going to take three hundred years, I never would have offered,” he groaned teasingly, turning to start down the sidewalk before glancing back at you, the mischievous grin back on his face. You hurried after him, following his path down the sidewalk.

Before long, your building came into sight as the two of you headed to the door. Upon reaching the steps, you turned and removed Minho’s jacket and handed it back to him.

“Thank you for letting me use it,” you said as you held it out for him to take. He gave you a rare warm smile as he took it. “I’d never hear the end of it if I’d let you freeze,” you heard him say as he pulled his jacket back on. “Hey, at least it’s warm,” he mused.

“Thank you again for this,” you continued, ignoring his remarks. “You really didn’t have to walk me home, but I appreciate the gesture all the same,” you added. Minho gave you another rare smile. “Meh, don’t get used to it, princess,” he countered. “I don’t exactly like you,” he reminded you.

“But I absolutely loathe Joshua Hong.”

You rolled your eyes. Whatever beef the two of them had was none of your business so you didn’t care about what he thought of your boyfriend. “Goodnight Minho,” you replied as you turned to head up the small staircase to your front door and unlocked it with your keycard, giving Minho a tiny wave before letting the door shut slowly behind you.

Once upstairs and inside the safety of your apartment, you started to undress, sliding out of your, well Lilah’s, dress and letting it fall to the floor.

You moved into your bedroom area and grabbed a clean sleep shirt, pulling it on over your head and letting the material fall to your hips before moving to climb into your oversized queen bed, practically diving under the covers and pulling them up to your chin.

Your eyes slid shut before you even had time to register your exhaustion and soon the room was filled with the sounds of your snores as you drifted deeper into slumber.

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #changbin scenarios #changbin imagines #changbin fanfiction #changbin fanfic #changbin angst #changbin fluff #changbin smut #changbin x reader #series: under your skin #series: uys

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btsmosphere · 5 months ago

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Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 15: Powerless

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: It's time to make the fight on your terms.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 6.4k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence, violence with superpowers, murder, this is the most violent one, swearing, injuries, discussion of homelessness, discussion of crime

a/n: If you didn't read the warnings!! Or even if you did! This is your warning for on-screen murder. It's not very gory, but it is very much there. (spoiler, but) we kill our villains in this one lads, it was kind of the whole point of this thing :))) also most of the word count on this one is the fight so help me lmao, why do I do this to myself🤣 With that out of the way, I am super excited for this chapter!! Protective Jungkook now applies to yn maybe more than anyone and hello yes I am here for it (ofc bc I wrote it ksdfghfl) Enjoy!! And do let me know if you like it!💜💜

Jungkook’s hand was still clutched in yours as you crept together through alleyways. Far, now, from your usual haunt, you recognised none of these streets, but Jungkook never hesitated in his steps.

Sure enough, he led you round a cluster of dustbins on one corner and stopped at last in front of a heavy door. Graffiti was scrawled over the entrance and across the entire wall. If you were to arrive here in the dark, you may not have noticed the seam marking out a doorway at all.

“I thought he might choose this place,” Jungkook muttered to you, “this is where Namjoon first picked me up, after I got my powers. He operated from here until his partnerships brought in enough money for the place in town.”

He turned to knock on the door. All you could do was squeeze his hand, eyeing the surroundings. Things must have changed from before. This was where your team had begun, long before you came into the picture.

The door swung open. Jin’s face emerged, morphing instantly from hostility to relief when he saw you.

Then his eyes moved down, and lingered on your clasped hands.

If you weren’t mistaken, a faint smirk lifted his mouth, but he closed his lips matter-of-factly and forced it away. Only a telltale raise of his eyebrows made you chew your lip as he let you both past him and inside.

A murky corridor led to another sturdy door, and then you were in a larger room. It was bare of furniture, the most notable features the peeling paint and a threadbare carpet lining the space. The walls either side of you sported large windows, but the curtains remained drawn; Yoongi could be the only explanation for the room being fully lit regardless. There were no bulbs in the fixtures.

Something in your chest loosened at the sight of your whole team gathered inside. Everyone had got here before you. Namjoon was pacing in the centre. Hobi slumped against the far wall, Jimin beside him, clothes bloody but a beaming smile on his face.

At the clunk of the door, Namjoon whirled around, finally stopping his impatient strides.

All eyes fell on you. A similar reaction to Jin’s outside swept the room. Reluctantly, you and Jungkook let your fingers slide apart, although you shifted a little closer to him.

Namjoon’s stare, intense and unreadable as always, left you in such suspense that you had to look away. Unfortunately, it brought you eye-to-eye with Jimin, who was being the least subtle of them all. His cheeks were plump with the force of his smile, and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You bit back your own grin.

Namjoon, for his part, shook his head and resolved to ignore it. Or deal with it later, at least.

“What did you guys do?”

Or maybe not. Clamping your mouth shut, your eyes widened a fraction. What were you supposed to tell him?

“We, uh-” Jungkook stammered out, before Namjoon pinched his brow.

“I mean with the monster that attacked us,” he cut you off.

You sighed in relief.

“Oh, that…” Jungkook laughed, sheepish.

In three brusque strides, Namjoon marched closer, towards an old television in the corner behind you. A red glow surrounded it as he rapped on the top, and then images flickered to life on the screen.

Blue lights and smoke washed over vehicles rammed haphazardly into a street. Your street.

You didn’t bother reading the fast-scrolling banner below the picture, letting the voiceover fill you in.

“Reports were made of Bolt heading to stop a creature, which he claimed to have escaped from within an operating villain base…” the reporter read, “but on arrival, the beast appears to have been tamed. No damage was sustained to surrounding properties, and a team is working to sedate and control it…”

The screen flashed to a blurry close-up of Frank as you had left him, snoring among the wreckage.

“How the hell did you stop it?” Namjoon demanded, the device blinking back to silence as he turned back to you and Jungkook.

“Well, Y/N, um…” Jungkook gestured for you to take over.

“It’s one of Kuyang’s,” you explained, “there’s this patch behind his ear, it sends him right to sleep. It’s just… a bit difficult to get to.”

“That thing has ears?” Jin echoed.

Namjoon folded his arms and took in the both of you.

“Good work, then. That was lucky. At least it’s lessened some of what Bolt’s trying to pin on us. But this was more than a simple attack.”

He paced again to the centre of the room.

“Bolt doesn’t act on accident; he’s showed us that much. He tried to take us out directly today. He wants to eradicate us. That’s his message, and it’s final. He’ll keep coming for us until one side is destroyed.”

His words bristled around the room, but not with fear. You sensed the rage and determination you shared with your brothers.

You weren’t backing down.

If Bolt was going to make it us vs them, you would just have to win that fight.

Turning, Namjoon met eyes with Jin, who stepped forward to stand beside him.

“At least we know what Bolt has at his disposal,” Jin said, “and what he doesn’t. We know the weapons we’re up against, so I think we can take on any fighters he sends our way. What really counts is the man himself.”

“We’re going to him, right?” Yoongi spoke from his place leaning against the curtain. “I don’t want to wait for him to come after us again. He wants the fight; we make it on our terms.”

Regarding him seriously, Namjoon nodded.

Meanwhile, Jin’s words were stirring something else in your mind. Something you had forgotten in the blur of defeat and panic that had ensued since your fight with Monsoon.

We know what weapons we’re up against…

“Wait,” you breathed. It was enough to snag the group’s attention, tense gazes all finding you. Closest was Jungkook, frowning down at you.

You gulped, and met their eyes.

“When I went after Monsoon,” you began, “I found the shield ray, even if I didn’t get hold of it. But that wasn’t all… He had a collection. And I recognised another one, too. I thought I had burned it up, in the parking lot, but there was another one.”

You had to admit that some nerves crept in at the unsettled silence that followed. Namjoon stared.

“No…” he shook his head, “you’re saying they have the Razer?”

“The one that takes your powers…” you replied, “yes.”

Namjoon swore.

“You definitely destroyed it?”

“Without a doubt,” Jungkook cut in, “I felt the shockwaves in that fight.”

You nodded along with him. Namjoon wasn’t asking to doubt you, though, and took you at your word. You had seen the broken, lifeless shell of that awful gun. No, they had gained another somehow.

“They must have got hold of a blueprint, or a prototype, somehow,” Jin suggested.

“However they did it, it’s best we know what we’re going up against,” Namjoon resolved. He looked around, meeting everyone’s eyes. “You all know what it looks like?”

Nods met him.

“Then watch your backs. We’re still doing this.”

“What was it like?”

By now, you were acquainted with the view from this spot, sitting against the wall in a corner of this place. But how different had it been, when the boys still lived here?

“Hm?”

Jungkook turned to you, resting his head back against the wall. The two of you sat not far from the others, all of you sitting around waiting for Hobi to heal up and for Jin to get whatever results he was hoping for from a beat-up laptop he had pulled from somewhere. You had no idea if he had brought it with him, found it in here, or stolen it. You wouldn’t ask, either.

Though the room was wide open now, you still sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Jungkook like you had in that cramped hallway. It was difficult to keep the same feeling at bay too. His presence lit you up where you touched, but in front of the others you had to keep up some semblance of sanity, and keep from pouncing on him.

“When you first came here,” you forced your eyes away from his softly quirked lips, and to the room. “What was it like?”

To your dismay, his brows pinched into a frown. He eyed the walls, traced them up to the ceiling with its patches of damp.

He shifted his arm against yours in a shrug.

“It was a roof over my head,” he murmured, “at first.”

“Oh,” you stammered, quiet in your shock, “sorry…”

With a blink and a shake of his head, you watched him pull himself back to you. He shot you a disarmingly genuine smile, albeit small.

“Not your fault,” he assured you, “I never told you.”

Instantly, you knew what he was talking about. Just like you, Jungkook must have first moved in after he got his powers. Of course, the balm of the support from (most of) the others had eventually smoothed over the wounds that heralded your arrival.

They wouldn’t be forgotten though.

Nor would you forget your brothers’ wounds. Jungkook had yet to entrust you with his story, the knowledge of those probably painful moments. He had hardly let you near it, all this time.

“You don’t have to-” you said hastily, but he surprised you.

You spotted his jaw tighten, but his voice was level.

“After my dad… I had nothing. The first time I met Namjoon, I didn’t have powers. I did a job for him. I used to steal; it was about the only thing I could do. My dad taught me to fight, once, after he was home late and some older kids tried to break into our place. I fell in with a certain crowd, but half of them were backstabbing sneaks.”

You weren’t sure he even knew he was scowling as he said that. Despite your horror, you couldn’t break your gaze away from Jungkook as he told the story, spelling out what you had always wondered.

He looked over to Namjoon then, snarl easing.

“I guess he thought I was good. He gave me more jobs, paid good money. It wasn’t one of his where it happened. We were taking some kind of reactor – I can hardly remember the plan. Someone wanted power out to rob a string of banks, I think… All that matters is it went wrong. It wasn’t safe, and it… blew up.”

Your chest tightened along with his voice, hearing him straining to keep his throat from closing.

He slumped back against the wall then. Fixed his eyes on yours.

“I got the brunt of it. Two of the others died. One of them ran away when I woke up and asked him to help me. And there was this… this burning I didn’t understand…”

“I remember,” you whispered.

Slowly, he closed his lips. His eyes bled with recognition. You felt it too, conflict constricting your chest. Appreciation that you could share the feeling, understand one another without the need for explanation, mingled with the strain in your heart of knowing he had been subjected to the same torture.

Here you both were, on the other side of it.

Jungkook took a bracing breath, shifted up where he had sagged down the wall – towards you.

“Namjoon found me.”

His voice brightened almost immediately, and he was looking around the room with new eyes of the old memories.

“V came along not too long after I did… It was the boys that made it home. They still do.”

A soft smile took your lips without thought, and you followed his gaze fondly.

The moment your eyes fell on Jin, you saw him perk up, straightening his back. Then he let out a cheerful “Aha!”.

He was the centre of attention that instant, and went on without prompting, fingers still clacking away at the laptop.

“I managed to get into our own system – and Bolt’s taken something!”

“And that’s… good?” you questioned his jubilant tone.

Keeping his eyes trained on the screen, he quirked his head.

“It means I can see where he’s taking it.”

Namjoon came to hover over Jin’s shoulder until they were satisfied. Soon enough, you found yourself refreshing the mental list of what you were about to go up against.

“If he even manages to get it up and running before we get there, it only has three charges per round. This is the first time I’m glad I haven’t improved it yet,” Jin chuckled, telling you about the newest addition to Bolt’s arsenal, the one he took right from your lab. “Jungkook or YN’s powers will take it out easily.”

And so he went on, through power-extending shurikens to the shield rifle Monsoon had stolen, all the things that had slipped through your fingers and how to defeat them.

“And the Razer…” Jin landed on the last one, but tailed off and exchanged a look with Namjoon.

“Just don’t get hit,” the leader said.

Several eyebrows raised in trepidation. You shuddered with an echoing memory of the gun’s piercing cold.

“Hobi,” Namjoon turned away from the subject, “how are you healing up?”

Shifting to sit away from the wall, Hope pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal the skin where Frank had slashed him. It was still pink, but completely closed by now.

“Better,” he beamed.

“Okay,” Namjoon fixed him with a stern eye, “but check in. If it’s putting you at a disadvantage, I want you out of there.”

“Yes boss,” Hobi replied with a grin and a mock salute.

From that alone, you were sure he was feeling better.

“I say” – Jin shut the laptop with a clack – “we’ve waited long enough.”

You couldn’t help but agree. It felt good to get on your feet again. Inside your chest, the warmth of your powers bubbled alongside your bristling determination. Just enough for you to feel them, to assure you.

A private smile stole across your face, and you turned towards Jungkook.

He found you first. A gentle touch on your wrist made you glance down. His thumb ran firmly, softly, over the skin there, and when you looked up his eyes were dark and affirming.

You realised then, that his defensive ring of fire had never burnt away. You were only on the other side of it, one of the ones he accepted in. His look was one of complete trust. When he nodded, you nodded back.

Let’s do this.

Having been inside for some time, the lot of you know marched out to find it night, the city drenched in the darkness of who-knew-what hour. Your ‘march’ was actually more of a light-footed sneaking. Setting off any alarm bells just yet would blow the operation. Together, your group wove through shadows out of this part of town, unnoticed thanks to the camouflage Yoongi effortlessly provided.

Up ahead, Jin checked around corners and led you on, the buildings rising further above you at every turn. Neon screens flashed through the night in these neighbourhoods, where the inhabitants had money to spare.

The walk couldn’t have been long, but you were a world away from the run-down hideout by the time Jin stopped, facing one of many high buildings of polished glass and chrome.

“So this is it?” Jimin asked, head tilting back.

Your eyes, instead of trailing up the building like Jimin’s, found a looming structure beside it. A pylon planted firm in the ground, standing just taller than the building itself, up to a spidery convergence of wires webbed over the city rooves.

“Well, that sure is handy for someone like him,” Jin scoffed.

Hobi rolled his neck, already striding towards it.

“And now it’s handy for us.”

His leap up three rungs was unnecessary, really. The rest of you followed behind like the mere mortals you were, clambering as silently as you could between the intersecting beams, the metal cold beneath your hands.

You looked back once, finding Namjoon and Jin still on the ground.

“I’ll see you afterwards,” Namjoon was telling him grimly, “all of us have to fight.”

“I know,” Jin agreed. Then he punched him in the arm. “And I had better, alright? See you afterwards, I mean.”

Your leader nodded, then stepped forward to the pylon. You looked ahead and pushed on upwards.

It shouldn’t have surprised you to find Bolt in a penthouse. Following the others, you hopped from the pylon onto the skyscraper’s rooftop; only Namjoon stayed behind. It wasn’t so tall as Kuyang’s lab had been, but it felt miles above. In the darkness, a few glimmering lights dotted the edges of what appeared to be an eerie garden of sorts, although no plants were in sight. Dark tile slabs ran underfoot, broken up by sculptures you couldn’t discern beyond shadows.

The rooftop was halved, your group gathering on the lower segment while a set of stairs rose another floor to more of the same; Bolt’s viewpoint over the city. Though your eyes darted between the statues, each one playing tricks on you as if they were people watching, your gaze rested eventually on two large glass doors beside the stairway.

A distant light from further inside showed just enough for you to see beyond the glass. An entire wall was decked in little plates, things you vaguely recognised as city awards, only seen on the screens and papers.

A trophy for each life Bolt had taken would have filled the whole building, let alone a feature wall, you thought.

The small huddle of you poised still, hunters, waiting. In the last few seconds before that silence would be broken, you felt Jungkook step behind you.

“This ends now.”

The voice coming over your shoulder was made of everything he was. Electricity, cold and bitter like metal, aflame with determination. The rows, fists and shouting, the tentative midnight whispers, his kisses.

His hurt and all the things he covered it with.

Namjoon didn’t even have to ask his soldiers if they were ready. He raised his arms and slammed palms back down against metal, and a red glow silhouetted you all like a sinister halo.

Everything went dark.

The meagre light inside the property blinked off. The glare of signs across the road plunged away to nothing. Only the dotted perimeter lights, which must run on for emergencies, remained.

Footsteps behind you brought Namjoon through the pack to its head.

Ahead, something moved beyond the glass. Your gaze sharpened on it as the handle turned, the door swinging soundlessly outwards.

While not in full gear, as he had been when he first attacked you, Bolt’s blue mask was in place. Otherwise, he wore dark, comfortable clothes. Internally, you celebrated the small evidence that you really had caught him unawares.

“I should have known,” his voice carried over to you, inflated with arrogance. “Flush out the rats and they’ll have nowhere left to run.”

In your ear, a sharp inhale sent your eyes to Jungkook for a second. His fists tightened at his sides.

“You’ve taken enough, Bolt,” Namjoon spoke. If you didn’t know him, you may not have caught the dark rage burning below his even words.

Then he raised his arms, stretched them towards the man in blue.

A great gust whisked from behind you, snatching at your hair, but you stood firm. In front of you, Bolt was thrown backwards by the air, colliding with the glass behind him.

The starting gun had been fired.

As your enemy crashed through a shower of glass, you began to run. Shards of it scattered, glittering, under your pounding feet. You skidded to the doorway just as Bolt drew back to his feet in the shadows.

Raising your arms to continue the offensive, you were cut short. A startling flash blazed in your vision. In that split-second, it illuminated a smiling Bolt, gun ready at his hip. Just long enough for your heart to sink.

The shield rifle, the very one you had failed to protect.

It seemed only right that you should pay the price.

Its impact slammed against you, wrenching your outstretched arm backwards. The pale sphere it had fired, glowing and crackling, caught hold and took you with it, ensnaring your wrist like a constricting snake. Helpless to detach yourself, your body flailed through the air behind it.

Someone called your name.

Just as fast, you jerked to a stop. Below you, your feet flung out above nothing. Your heart jumped.

Looking around wildly, you found the forcefield had snagged on the wall, stuck fast to it just like it did your arm. It was the only thing holding you here.

Somewhere behind you, above you, grunts and thuds assured you that the fight continued. For now, you had to get out of this trap before Bolt could reach you again, attack you in this helpless position.

“Y/N!”

Jimin’s voice rushed closer. It was an effort to crane your head up to see him. Pale pink hair poked over the ledge.

“Grab on!” he called.

You didn’t hesitate. Swinging yourself up with a kick, you grabbed desperately for the hand he reached out. Finding it clumsily, you clutched to his wrist with clammy fingers. Next moment, he hauled you up, clamping both hands around yours until you rolled over the wall and your feet stumbled against solid ground.

But you still weren’t free.

The forcefield bit at your arm when you tried to drag it free. You cursed.

“It’s just energy,” Jimin spoke, frowning at the luminescent mass.

Then he took a breath, frowning in concentration. With one push of his hand, the sphere shifted, as if it was simply a ball from training.

Resisting, you pulled the other way. For a second, it constricted harder, making your heart clench in dread of following it. Then all at once you were falling free, tumbling to the floor as the forcefield rolled out of sight over the edge.

Hurried hands tugged you up and you were wheeling around to face the battle.

“Thanks,” you quickly clapped Jimin on the shoulder. A brief grin from him, and you dived together back towards the fray.

More shining energy fields pulsed against one wall, but it seemed the others had dodged them. You ran past the discarded weapon on the floor. But there were more where it had come from.

A bright blue jet, just like your own, fizzled against a statue and sent it thundering to the floor. Behind it, Yoongi leapt out of the way just in time. He came sprinting towards Bolt, eyes burning white.

In an instant, the hero let out a yell, clutching his eyes. Staggering, he slipped onto one knee. But in his blind panic, he whirled around, lashing out again even without a target to aim at.

Blazing blue roared outwards. Namjoon had been marching towards the fallen Bolt, but was forced to duck for cover. The lightning sliced clean through the top of the stone figure he hid behind.

Even as Bolt’s attack died, something else caught your eye. Fast as a spark from a flame, he tossed a blade into the air. It whistled, carving a streak of seething blue through the night.

A shout shot echoed across the rooftop, straight to your veins. Yoongi.

Falling from his invisible cloak of darkness, you saw a glowing blue shuriken whizz along his back. The current flew outwards across his body, throwing his pained grimace into haunting relief. The blade skittered, useless, to the ground, having wreaked its injury.

“Yoongi!” you screamed as he fell, blue light dancing over his spasming body.

Staring in horror as you were, the next flash of blue nearly caught you. Running on pure instinct, your body retaliated before you did. Snarling, your powers leapt from your palms, clashing against Bolt’s in mid-air. Blue on blue.

In the flare of sparks, Bolt smiled slowly. Never breaking the connection, he took a step forwards, cocking his head.

“So it’s true,” he spoke, “I heard about you.”

Heart hammering now, you pushed back with all your might, feeling his hostile powers wrestle with yours. They may look the same, but they felt all wrong.

“Tell me,” he took a step closer. You barely resisted the urge to draw back. “How did you do this?”

Steeling yourself with a breath, you unleashed a surge of rage, your electricity hissing through the air. It should have satisfied you to feel his power startle, stutter at the sudden attack.

All you could do was glare. He had no idea. He never thought twice about who he killed, what he took.

But as you stared, there was movement behind him. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on Bolt, willing his attention to stay on you. As it was, he had no idea that Jungkook was stalking towards him.

“I didn’t do this,” you blurted out, needing to keep him focussed. Buying Jungkook time as his face came into sharper focus, closer to the battling blue lights between you and Bolt. “You did this to me.”

You spat your words with all the venom locked inside, ready for one last push as you watched Jungkook raise both arms-

WHOOSH.

You snapped the connection, staggering backwards as Bolt whirled around.

It had not been gold that fired. In a blur, Jungkook was slammed to the ground by a column of water crashing into him.

Everyone on the rooftop turned to its source.

“Shit-” you heard someone curse.

“No,” you breathed.

Feet touching to the rooftop up ahead, among a flood of water, was Monsoon.

Another cold, arrogant grin met you all. You stared in horror. Only Bolt laughed, stepping forwards to climb to his ally’s side. They faced you all from the staircase, looking down.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jungkook’s eyes blazed gold beneath dripping strands of hair.

“Jungkook! No!” you cried, but too late.

Gold split the night, but against Monsoon there was no use. Water surged instantly towards him again, and though your powers protested, burning in your chest with the need to act, you could only stand by. You couldn’t fight him.

Shimmering water engulfed the gold strands. Soon they would immobilise Jungkook, the moment it made contact…

Instead, a red glow sprung up in front of Jungkook with only a split-second to spare, sending the deluge spraying around the shield.

“Let’s start with you, then,” Monsoon smirked.

When you looked back to him, you swore your heart stopped beating.

Raised in one hand, pointing straight at Jungkook, was the Razer. Its eerie white form stood out starkly against the night sky.

The dead white light at its centre jumped to life. A whirring began, menacing and low. It rose at the same rate the strands of light started spinning within the sphere, preparing to drain its victim of all power.

It was stupid. It was stupid, you had already failed once before. You had watched Jungkook fail just seconds ago. There was nothing you could do, yet you had to do something.

You fired at Monsoon.

Easily, he raised his free hand to deflect.

But as the water rushed towards you, Jimin sprinted towards Monsoon. Thrusting an arm forward, he sent a fallen statue flying between you, a silhouette. Your eyes widened in realisation.

The inundation hit the stone with such force, you almost thought it would crack. But no – it sent the writhing water shooting straight back at its commander.

Darting forward, you shot without hesitation. Blue burst from you. The bright tendrils wove into the stream, flying like darts through the current and towards Monsoon. There was no time for him to react; only a fleeting shadow of shock stole over his face before the electricity caught him and his eyes rolled back.

You knew how it felt for your muscles to lock in place, for your body to leave your control entirely. You watched as it took hold of him, too, and smiled.

The force of the water, with no way to resist it, knocked him backwards until the floor no longer held him. A blond blur flew past you, just before the white-clad figure that was Monsoon dropped out of sight forever.

Lowering your palms, your chest heaved. Adrenaline rushed through you; this still wasn’t over.

Your eyes narrowed in on Hobi, whose feet made impact with the roof on landing. Clutched in his arms was the Razer, scooped from Monsoon’s arms just in time.

Bolt, apparently, had got over his ally’s demise already. His grief lasted the space of one step, away from the edge, before he swung round. Like you, he honed straight in on the weapon.

And then everyone moved at once.

Diving out of the path of a sinister blue bolt, Hobi rolled away on the floor. Bolt himself thudded closer, making your friend dodge again, leaping up and out of his reach. The air crackled by Bolt’s hand, but before he could summon electricity to chase Hobi down, a sheet of purple fire swept like a curtain in front of him, the fleeting shadow of V disappearing within the flames.

You were already sprinting at the enemy when Hobi touched down next to you. Stumbling around, he glanced behind him with a curse.

Confused, your eyes first darted over your friend. He didn’t seem to be more hurt, so then what-?

A clatter of metal rung through the spitting flames. Frantically searching, you quickly found the deathly white streak of the Razer on the ground, spinning away. In the desperate fumble to escape Bolt, Hobi must have dropped it.

It didn't matter how it got there. Darting to the side, you changed course towards the weapon. But you weren’t the only pursuer.

Bolt was a silhouette in front of the fire, growing rapidly in the corner of your vision. Your feet thudded as fast as you could make them, heart pounding out the same rhythm, and you were almost there, but Bolt was coming in fast-

A flash of blue. Instinctively, you pulled back, letting it cut through the air in front of your nose. Precious distance you couldn’t afford to waste.

Throwing your weight back further, you followed your body’s momentum. Your hip met the tile and you let your speed carry you, sliding over the tiles and kicking out-

Your toes met the weapon hard, snatching it from right under Bolt’s fingertips as he lunged down. His furious glare shifted to you, but he did not stay to fight. Both of you watched, panting, as the white gun hurtled over the staircase, resounding against each step out of sight.

Then Bolt was off again with you not far behind, jumping to your feet. Stairs flew beneath you as you surveyed the scene.

Bolt charged a decisive line towards the still-falling gun. Namjoon, Jimin and Jungkook assembled on the lower part of the rooftop, ready to strike.

With relief, you saw Jimin move first. Raising one hand, he brought the gun arcing through the night. Though you kept running, something loosened in your chest the closer it came to the hands of your leader.

So focussed on the gun as you were, you almost missed it. Just as the Razer landed firmly in Namjoon’s grip, something glinted in Bolt’s hand, inches ahead of you.

A sizzle of blue. Another shuriken sliced through the air. Namjoon dodged to one side, the blade sailing past him, a spark of blue losing itself in the darkness of the city.

But another blade followed.

Namjoon clearly decided not to hang around. The low whirring began again, piercing your senses straight away as if it was a chainsaw roaring. White light pounced against the glass containing it. Close as you were to Bolt, you couldn’t help the jolt of nerves fizzling in your chest.

Lifting his gaze from the weapon, Namjoon’s eyes widened a fraction. There wasn’t enough time to react. The blue lightning raced straight for his heart.

The image of Yoongi, stricken and fallen, flashed through your mind then. Helplessness burned through every part of you – even as you pushed yourself to sprint, there was no catching it.

Until a shadow leapt in the way. Obscuring your view of Namjoon, they turned in mid-air to face the shuriken.

Jungkook.

Your heart punched into your throat. In a single beat, the blade found its target.

A twitch of pain spasmed across Jungkook’s face. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move. Your trembling heart choked you, the world falling silent for a deathly second.

Then his feet thumped onto the roof, the clatter of the thin blade following a beat later. Though he stumbled against the outer wall, he remained standing. Utter, blank shock painted on his face, he brought a hand up to his chest.

There, a thin red line was spreading where he had been cut. Nothing more.

Heart still hanging on a precipice, you were suspended in your shock. Numbly, you glanced down to the still-spinning shuriken lying powerless on the floor. Powerless. No more sparks surrounded it. No hint of blue, no colour at all.

Where a heartbeat ago there had been panic, now came no movement at all. Your lungs ached for air after your short race, but you hardly dared to touch the silence by breathing. Shakily, you drew in cool air, turning, as you all did, towards Bolt.

Standing in front of the shattered entrance to his home, he was equally still.

You expected some kind of joke. For him to laugh in your faces, or lash out again.

Instead, he looked down in horror. His hands steadily rose, tuning over in front of him. A downwards turn tugged at his mouth when he raised his face.

Then it turned into a snarl, and he lunged, flinging a hand straight towards you. Everyone on the rooftop jumped.

To your shame, you almost stepped back. Phantom burning, from months ago as you fell from a skyscraper like this one, rocketed through your mind. But the pain you braced for never came. No flash of blue. You stayed rooted there, disbelieving eyes tracing the air which should have been ablaze, and instead was dead and dark.

And you noticed another thing: the whirring had stopped.

Glancing to one side, you saw Namjoon lowering the Razer, face hard and a grim glint in his eye.

“You!”

Bolt’s voice brought you sharply back to him. His mouth twisted into a snarl, and his voice was sharp.

To your alarm, his rage-filled eyes, though devoid of blue, were fixed right on you.

“Give them back to me! Right now!”

With a sudden start, he marched towards you. You actually stepped back this time, in no hurry to be the target of his new warpath.

“You- I gave you those powers!” He ranted, “My powers! You can give them back to me the same way. Do it now!”

Disgusted, you could only shake your head.

Another step and he was right in front of you, reaching for you. That same face which hadn’t looked at you twice when he sent you hurtling to your intended death. The man that had since become the face of your elusive fear, sending others to attack you, never getting his hands dirty unless for a media-worthy cause.

His hand on your arm made your skin crawl.

“I made you what you were,” he pleaded – you saw it now for what it was – “you were nothing before I gave them to you-”

“Get off me!” you snapped, yanking your arm roughly from his grip. When he made to reach for you again, you barely kept control of your powers. You were sure to let just enough slip through that your eyes would light up blue with a reminder.

It clearly found its mark. He stilled, stunned. He had never been in this position before, unable to fight, and he would do well to remember it.

“I was someone before you,” you spoke, low and level.

Bolt seemed robbed of words.

Then his glare flicked to the side. Jungkook stalked up to stand beside you, drawing himself up to his full height. There was a special venom in his eyes, reserved only for the man who had ruined his life.

“Don’t touch her,” he spat.

Something in Bolt snapped. Closing his mouth, his feet scrambled beneath him. He hurried in the opposite direction, staggering a few desperate steps backwards before wheeling around, racing to get inside.

You didn’t move. Any one of you could easily kill him from where you stood – in any case, it wasn’t needed.

Someone was waiting for him.

Stepping from the dark hallway, broken glass crunching underfoot, Jin emerged into the dim light of the rooftop.

He reared back a fist, and brought it down in a blur to collide with Bolt’s face. The moment the fallen hero hit the ground, Jungkook strode forwards. Bolt’s usually vivid mask was finally dislodged, lying dull against the tiles where Jungkook’s boot crushed it against the floor.

Calmly lifting a hand, he fired gold, but not right at Bolt. Instead, you watched the molten light latch around a large shard of glass. The burning ring made dappled gold ripple in the glass, a golden dagger, the brightest thing on this dark rooftop.

Unsteadily, Bolt was getting his hands beneath him again. His ragged panting almost stirred pity in your chest. Almost.

Jungkook pushed his palm forwards, his power moving with him. The dagger struck Bolt’s back. You did not smile, but watched as it plunged ruthlessly into him, making his back arch and drawing a pitiful cry from his mouth.

No one was around to hear it, or to care. Tonight was as desolate as the night you had woken, alone and afraid, in a dark alley, left to die.

It wasn’t painless, but it was quick. Looking to Jungkook as Bolt fell silent, you found his hardened face awash with gold, like it was made of the metal itself. Only the twitch of his jaw as he yanked the glass from its victim belied the impression.

A thump as the body slumped among a soft chorus of grating glass.

The gold faded from Jungkook’s eyes. They turned to you, and you took his hand.

Thank you for reading this far into the series and sticking with it!!💜💜

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @written-in-flowers @taegularities @dvalities

@parapiop7 @taiwan0618 @11thenightwemet11 @junniesoleilkth @doctorquack

@oddinary4bts @svnbangtansworld @ktownshizzle @minisugakoobies @jksusawife

@kokoandkookie @veemegatron @kookxin @seokout @jkayy

@peaaachpit @stxrrielle @welcometomyworld13 @ssexsellls @ramicherie

@jk5t4r @purplebeebs @nanjeonlangakook @wifflepuff1344 @ot7stansthings

@thesmeraldogirl @fr0ggieth1nk

#jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook angst #jungkook mafia #jungkook enemies to lovers #bts enemies to lovers #jungkook series #jungkook fluff #bts mafia au #jeongguk x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk scenarios

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7ndipity · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, Sara, How are you doing? Hope everything is okay.

I've been Listening Golden on Repeat and I have this request.

What about a OT7 reaction of reader Listening to Hate You on repeat and getting worried that they might want to break up with them. It's up to you the ending on each member.

Because personally I've been doing it because even if the lyrics are sad it brings me so much calm just listening to JK's Voice.

P.S. Thank You for Sharing your work with us 💜

S/o Playing ‘Hate You’ by Jungkook on Repeat

Ot7 x Reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I’m doing good, hope you are too💜 Thank you for this request! This is actually something I do quite a lot(I type as I play ‘gone away’ by skz for the third time today), sad songs are just so soothing sometimes. I hope these are okay!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: As soon as he hears you play it more than twice in a row, he’s buying you flowers and doting on you in any way he can think of, like “You know I love you, right? We’re okay, yeah?”. He’d save himself a lot of trouble if he’d just ask you abt it, but at least he means well.

Yoongi: He’s not that worried at first, cause I mean, it’s just a song, but he doesn’t wanna take any chances and ends up asking you if there’s anything you wanna talk about, wanting to know what’s on your mind. Once you tell him that everything’s okay, he’s cool.

Hobi: Side-eyeing you immediately like, “Are you good? Are we good?”. He tends to get in his own head way too easily, so it doesn’t take much to stir up his worries. After you explain everything's fine, he relaxes a bit, but you’ll probably notice him being a lil clingier than usual for a bit.

Namjoon: Tbh, he’s a Virgo, so he gets it, lol. No but seriously, he understands that sometimes certain songs just scratch the right part of your brain, so he’s not that bothered by it. If it persists for a few days tho, he’s gonna ask if everything’s okay.

Jimin: Lowkey worried, though he tries to brush it off the first few times he hears you playing it, but quickly gives in and asks if everything’s alright. He’s relieved of course once you explain, but he’s definitely being extra affectionate for the next few days, just to be sure.

Taehyung: Ngl, he might not notice at first, but once he does, he’s his usual dramatic self abt it, like “Why do you keep playing that one?! Did I do something?!” When you tell him you just like the song, he eases up, but you might catch him doing extra little things for you, just cause.

Jungkook: At first, he’s just happy that you seem to like the album so much, until he realizes that you just keep playing that one song, and then he’s like 🥺“Umm, Babe? Everything good?” Once you explain, he’s even happier than before, will even sing it for you if you want.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

Text

Talking Iron

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW blood, TW death, CW guns, CW injury, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, CW violence. Cowboy AU, old west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 2 >>> CHAPTER 3

You haven't been this close to him in 5 years. Breath to breath, heart to heart, you watch yourself in his jade eyes like how one sees themselves for the first time.

“I've finally found you.” Eyes shining, smile brighter than the sun bearing down, you grasp his face tenderly—as if your own eyes deceive you, as if you're dreaming. “Hobie?” You call for him when he doesn't move an inch above you.

Hobie's green eyes just stare at you, or through you. Mouth agape, breath stuck in his throat. To get his attention, you place your thumb softly over the corner of his eye, rubbing gently like you always did when he needed to wake up from a daydream.

For a split second, he leans in your touch. But as fast as he leaned in, he flinched away just as quick. Hobie scrambles away on the dusty ground like you've burned him. You might as well have when he felt how cold the golden band around your middle finger is. Soil dirtying the thick leather he wears, he stands up shakily. With the sun behind him, you have a hard time seeing his face, seeing the face you've longed for. A shadow cast around him, a halo of light around his head, the shadow blanketing him, as if you're not allowed to bear witness to all his glory.

Instead of ‘I love yous’ or ‘I miss yous’ falling on his lips, harshness flows out of them. “What are you doin' ‘ere?”

Hands bound, you try to sit up but fail. “Looking for you of course!” You say cheerfully, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is to you, for him, it's the most confusing statement.

“Why?” Hobie's hands clenched into fists. He's not going to hurt you, he'll never hurt you—but he really wants to punch something. Just when he thought the past won't haunt him, just when he pushed the past behind him, you came to him like some miracle.

You almost scoff. “W-why? To see you, just like you wanted me to.” Finally succeeding to sit up, you huff. “Five years of no communication,” you say forlornly, “of course I'd come and see you the moment you sent word.” You smile again, and he looks away. Anywhere, anything else than the curl of your lips.

“Sent word?” He shakes his head. “I've never sent you anythin'” His words would pierce your heart but your excitement and relief triumphs over the feeling.

“A-are you sure?” You blink slowly, reaching up with your bound hands. “Can you help me up, please? I'll show you the letter.”

“Letter?”

“Can you stop asking and just help me up, Hobie? Please, the ground is hot.” With a quick nod, eyes still glancing away from you, he grabs you by the rope around your hands, avoiding touching your own; lifting you up rather quickly. The moment you're back on your feet, he yanks his hand away from you, to which you're too happy to even notice. “It's in my skirt pocket, the right.” You instruct him since you can't reach it with your hands tied. Hobie reaches to your left, hand roaming around your empty pocket, careful not to graze your thigh. “My right, Hobs.” He freezes in place, he hasn't heard that nickname in years. Without another word, he takes his hand back, then he searches for the neatly folded paper. “I've never pegged you to be a law man. Are you gonna turn me over, sheriff?”

Hobie scowls at the title, “not even close.” He sees how much it's been folded, like you've read it a thousand times. Opening the letter, scanning the contents, the pause gives you time to admire him fully. The whole ‘american cowboy’ shtick suits him, you think. You ogle him unabashedly.

Each word has his jaw tightening. It's in his writing, he remembers the exact words that's full of longing and sadness. It's full of the words you expect him to say. Yet, he wasn't the one who sent it. He's sure he didn't, especially that it was written when he was drowning in his amber filled glass. “Where'd you get this?” His eyes flick over to you, your smile faltering for only a second.

“A mail carrier?” You chuckle, “it was delivered to me.”

“I didn't send this to you.”

“Oh.” Your smile crumbles but you fix it back up almost immediately, optimism winning. “Maybe you just forgot? Remember when you forgot to put on a sock that one time and—”

“This isn't some sock, Y/N.”

“You didn't ask for me? Was it forged?” You ask quietly, heart shattering with every question.

Hobie shakes his head, sucking in his teeth, he pockets the letter. Taking the rope that hangs on your bounded hands, he tugs you back to the shop. “C’mon.” Boots thudding on the ground, he's going to do what he's good at—his job.

“W-wait! I haven't seen you in five years and you're seriously taking me to face charges? Not even a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you doing?’” You yank back, heels digging in to stop him.

“Hello, you're not goin’ to jail, I need the ten bucks. You seem fine so ‘m bringin’ you home.” Dragging you inside, the shopkeeper grins and even claps at the sight.

“That is so much worse! Hobie—” You plead, you don't remember ever pleading with him before.

“Good job, Mr…?” The moustachioed man asks, ten dollar bill in hand.

“No one.” Hobie snatches the bill, then immediately dragging you towards the front of the shop. The bells chime as he opens the door, but you're too polite to not say sorry to the man.

“I'm sorry for pointing the gun at you, but you shouldn't have shot at someone who cannot shoot back. It's rude—!” You get yanked outside, the man looks confused at your words.

“Don't apologize to him.” Hobie says, hands placed on your hips, a feeling that isn't foreign to you, but something you missed dearly.

You grin at him, expecting him to say the words you long for. Instead, you get lifted up. Yelping, connected hands flying to his wrists, he places you on his horse. Hitching your hands around the horn of his saddle.

“I think we're good, Hobie, you got his money. Can you untie me now?” You start to get nervous. The brilliant black horse looks over his shoulder, black marbles staring at you, paying you no mind. “Hi, I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure.”

“The horse doesn't talk, lov—” He stops himself before he could complete his sentence. Hobie lifts himself up, sitting behind you, legs next to yours, arms cageing you in while he holds the reins. “Thought you'd know that. Or is it because the horses back in England learned to talk after I left.” You still have no idea why he left, you're waiting for the right time to ask, for now your main concern is why your hands are tied.

“I know horses can't talk.” You roll your eyes, “I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm sure you're close to your horse, correct? You were always fond of animals.”

“His name is Buckeye.” Hobie says, with a slight kick and a click of his tongue, he holds the reins precisely, steering Buckeye towards the train station further out of town.

“Cute!” You exclaim despite the hunger, you're still happy that you found him. Or he was the one who found you. Hobie always has a knack for that it seems, whether you're hiding away or can't be bothered to be perceived by anyone but him, he always finds you. Always. “It's a cute name. Buckeye, fitting name for a horse that's as gorgeous as you, huh?” You lean down just in time for Buckeye to look back at you. He neighs like he understood you. “Yeah, you agree.” You giggle, the dark horse looks like he enjoys the attention.

Hobie is baffled by the whole interaction. “Stop cooing at my horse.”

“Why not? He seems to like it.” You touch his mane as best as you can with your hands still tied. “Right, Bucky?” The horse has an extra pep in his step with you figuring out his nickname. You continue to giggle, Hobie has no idea how Bucky warmed up to you so fast. “Where to, Hobs? Home?” You ask excitedly.

“Yes, your home.”

“Wait— What?!” You almost fell off with how fast you looked back at him.

—

All your questions were left unanswered, but you still think he's playing some sort of joke on you, a joke that is getting older with every tick of the giant clock that hangs above the railway station. A tumbleweed passes by on the train tracks, a warm breeze passes by the near empty train station. Hobie stands next to you, leaning on a pillar, eyes roaming around the barren place. He's far enough that you can't reach him and tell him all the words you wanted to say to him since he left. Yet, he's close enough that you can admire all the physical changes.

From the scruff of his growing beard, to the peeking scar around his neck—he looks like he grew up. The smoke from his cigarette curls upwards to the brim of his hat, parting ways down the middle like theater curtains that show his chiseled face. His jade eyes are as green as the grass at home, as green as the fields you used to run around with him. It reminds you of home, and at the same time, it reminds you of the years that went by without those green eyes by your side.

“You look really good.” You finally say something that isn't a question. Fingers playing with the gold band around your middle finger. “Seriously, what's your secret?” Your behind hurts from the hard wood of the bench. Travelers are sparse and far in between, you notice them staying away from you.

As predicted, he doesn't answer.

You copy his voice and demeanor just how you remembered it last. “Well, love, the secret is to bathe in cow's milk at least once a week. And to stay away from the sun.” You keep your smile despite the silence from your companion. “That's probably what you'd say.” He barely even looks at you. “Well, five years isn't that long,” you lie, it was an eternity without him. “I always thought you'd age well—”

“Five years is a long fuckin' time, Y/N.”

“Finally, a word from your mouth.” You reach towards him, impatiently showing him your tied hands. “Can you untie me now? I can't run from you, with my ankle still hurting and the fact that I'm starving and dehydrated, I won't be doing any running for a while.”

“You're starving?” There's a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

“Yes,” you almost exclaim. Hobie takes one step towards you, instead of untying your binds, he takes your bandana that hangs around your neck. You flinch in response, an act that has him questioning what happened to you in those five years he left.

Hobie kneels in front of you, more careful of any sudden movement, a vision of a younger him passes over your mind's eye. He lifts your skirt up, enough to show the wound on your ankle. Gloved hands wrap gingerly around your foot as he places it on top of his thigh.

“The bleedin' stopped,” not once has he looked in your eyes. While you stare at him affectionately, a soft smile on your tired lips. Hobie wraps your bandana around the wound, tying it with a knot that you're familiar with. You grin at the memory of him using it all the time. “There,” just as you thought, he taps your foot three times, a habit of his that you're fond of. Hobie realizes what he has done subconsciously, straightening up, he takes a wrapped biscuit from his pocket. Grabbing your hand, he places it unceremoniously on your palm like your skin burns him like a sinner to holy water. “Your people will be here any minute.”

“We've been waiting here for two hours. And who—? What people?”

“The people who want you back home.”

You almost drop the biscuit. “But I don't want to come home! I want to stay with you—!”

“Why are you really ‘ere, Y/N? Hmm? Great aunt not givin’ you enough allowance?” He flicks the cigarette butt away.

Your heart cracks, voice as small as a dormouse. “Why are you being like this?” Hobie inhales sharply. “I told you, I came to see you because of your letter where you wrote that you missed me and wanted to see me. I–I have so many of mine right here—” A train whistle rings out before Hobie could reply.

The smell of burning coal itches your nose, blackened smoke billowing out of the metal beast that creaks and shrieks on the steel tracks.

A small crowd exits the train once it fully stops. You notice Hobie standing closer to you, hand placed on the back of the bench. His eyes search for someone amidst the travelers while you take big bites of the dry biscuit, desperate to satiate the rumbling of your stomach. Damn all the etiquette lessons drilled into your brain, you're starving.

“Can I have some water?” You cough out, palm covering your mouth for some decency. “Hobie?” His head is on a swivel, eyes scanning the stranger's faces. You tug at his coat, he curses under his breath so you retract your hand quickly. “I'm sorry.” Your small voice startles him.

“What?” He looks down at you, your eyes are glued on your lap, palms up like you're waiting for punishment. His jaw tightens, knuckles shaking. What happened to you after he ran? “‘ere,” passing a canteen of water over to you, he places it on your open palms gingerly.

The cool metal of the canteen hits your skin, instead of stinging pain. “Thank you,” you take a drink, Hobie doesn't miss how your hands shake, almost spilling water all over yourself.

“Stop sayin' that.” He says it through a softer tone, “don't be so polite.” He's not trying to chastise you, but you don't know the difference.

“Sorry—I'll stop.” You close the lid to the canteen, giving it back to him without lifting your head up.

As the crowd thins, Hobie controls his breathing. It was better when you were looking at him, at least then he could see how happy you were.

“No one's here.” He finally says, the hands on his sides stretching, joints aching from the previous tightness of his knuckles.

“Because no one's looking.” You hope that was the case. Or at least it was just her looking for you, not him too.

“The reward on your head says otherwise.” Hobie wishes he didn't say everything that passes by his mind when you look at him like a heartbroken fawn. “C’mon.” He takes your arm, helping you stand up. He's ill equipped to handle emotions right now, especially if he can barely control his own.

“Where are we going?” You ask, shoes thumping across the floorboards.

“The post office, it's right around the corner.” Sure enough, the post office is connected to the railroad station. Convenient, you thought. Stopping next to Bucky on his post, he neighs at the sight of you. You smile at him, even though he can't possibly understand your expression. Hobie taps his saddle, subtly asking your permission to lift you up. You nod once, as if you could say no. With one strong lift, you're back on Bucky's saddle. “Right, stay ‘ere, scream if you're in trouble.”

“You're leaving me here?”

“No, I need to check my telegram. I can see you through the window, yeah?” He points at the foggy windows of the post office. “I'll be back in five.”

“What if someone comes?”

He's already halfway to the office. “Scream.”

An old woman with a cane and a trendy dress passes by, seeing your bound hands, she tosses Hobie a look of disapproval.

“It's fine, she's my wife and she likes to roleplay.” Once upon a time, he thought that he'd call you that for real. That was a different time. “Ain't that right, sweetheart?” He opens the door for the woman who looks at you for reassurance.

You give the stranger your best smile. “Yes, my love.” His finger twitches, breath hitching. “Don’t worry about me, ma’am, it's all good.”

The older woman scoffs, muttering a ‘the youth and their weird sex fantasies.’ She enters the office first while Hobie gives you an approving nod.

“The excuse wasn't even good.”

“It worked right?” With a smug smile on his lips, he enters the office while you settle on Bucky.

“Your rider's weird.” You whisper to his horse who huffs in response.

Hobie grabs a form on a table placed near the windows. He has the perfect view of you chatting with Bucky. A smile creeps up on him, to which he tamps down immediately. Writing all the necessary information, with a fake name and address of course, he gives it to the man at the counter who wordlessly reads it and searches in the back for any letters for him.

He watches you smile at his horse, desperately trying to remember how your laughter sounded. A real one where you would almost choke at your own spit because of a joke he told you. The smile curls around his lips once again.

An envelope slides out of the slot, his fake name, Larry Smith, is written in neat writing. He rips it open immediately, eyes skimming the contents. The words ‘change of plans’, ‘moved south’ that are followed by an address that he's familiar with in the southern area has him taking his hat off, hands rubbing along his hairline from how crappy the situation is. Judging by all the detail on the letter, it would take him weeks to get you there, months if something unsavory happens on the road. He has a feeling that something would happen based on the reward increase that's listed next to the address. From five thousand to six.

Your piercing scream rings all the alarm bells in his body, bolting straight away, he sees you try to fight off a couple of men that are quickly riding off with you. They're moving three ways from Sunday, their laughter fading out. Hobie's blood boils.

Buckeye neighs loudly, waking his rider up from his blind anger. Hobie unhitches the dark horse, long leg swinging over the saddle, boots immediately placed inside the stirrups, hands tightly curled around the reins. And off he goes, leaving the railroad station in the dust, galloping incredibly fast.

He hears you yell his name just before you were abruptly cut off by a cloth shoved in your mouth. “Y/N!” Desperately calling for you, anger rolls off him like an avalanche in the winter. Taking his pistol out, with one hand he aims. But with the speed and the jostling around, he can't aim straight—especially if there's a chance of him shooting you instead.

The phantom pain around his neck aches.

Adrenaline rushes through him, he sees reason, aiming at the other man that isn't holding you. With a click, and a squeeze of the trigger—he shoots. The bullet whizzes by with a piercing sound, hitting the man's shoulder, turning his insides out, spraying warm crimson everywhere. The pained yell he let out would haunt your dreams. Moreso of the sorrow filled scream his companion let out.

With a thud, the limp body falls, his own horse running him over. You shut your eyes, mind crawling back to the one place you were happy staying forever in, Hobie's tiny flat back home. Back when afternoon tea consists of him rambling about some new invention he thought of, back when his hands would roam over your skin softly. Back when you held him close to you as he whispered promises in your ears.

Now it's all rough leather against your hand, jade eyes avoiding your own, mouth permanently etched into a frown. You know him, deep down the Hobie who would press feather light kisses on your lips is still in him. That deep down he has built a façade to survive this lawless land, and it's hard for him to break that carefully made façade in one day. You'd find his softness again, but you have to survive this first.

The horse you've been thrown on has finally stopped running. Your chest hurts from all the jostling, you were placed stomach first on the saddle—where the jagged leather uncomfortably rubbed against you and the spine of the horse hit you over and over again. The strange man yanks you away, now you're completely standing up with a gun pressing on your temple. A cry inches up to your throat, the cloth in your mouth chokes you. The man smells of cow shit and iron.

You watch as Bucky halts to a stop, dust flying around like the fireflies back home. The hat on Hobie's head hides the anger in his eyes, trigger finger itching to shoot again.

You cry, his name muffled by the cloth. You didn't mean to cry, but everything hurts. The warm barrel of the gun digs into your skull, whilst your hands grip the stranger's arm, your nails hopelessly trying to claw him away from you. The stranger smells like death.

“You killed my brother!” The man screams in your ears, breath rancid, warm air tickling your cheek. Amidst the loud rushing of your blood in your ears, you hear hurried footsteps behind you. They sound like there could be dozens of them, all pointing their guns at the man you loved. Still love, even now.

Hobie doesn't get off his horse. He sits still, frozen like a bronze statue. The only indication of him being alive was his labored breathing.

“What's happenin’?” A gruff voice asks from behind, thick southern drawl making him stand out from the rest of the gang. “Who's this, Jacky?”

“The broad, the broad from the telegram. Henry and I recognized her, thought we'd be rich. We saw her first!” Jacky acts like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Where's Henry then?” The older sounding man asks.

“With a bullet in him,” Hobie's voice is calm, cold and calculating, none of the warmth you were used to. “He's laying in a pool of his own blood a few ways from ‘ere. I bet the coyotes have him now.”

“You fucker!” Jacky presses the gun closer, you cry out in pain. Hobie's hand twitches. “I'll fucking shoot her! I swear I'd shoot!”

“Do you think that's worth it? Getting her blood all over your nice camp?” Hobie's unfeeling tone makes you weep harder. “Killin’ your mark? My mark?” He speaks commandingly, teeth gritted.

You look up to the heavens, blue sky engulfing your vision. A part of you wants to go home, a part that regrets running away in the first place. But there's a bigger part of you that's glad that you saw him again, even though you face your imminent death. It was worth it, you suppose. At least now your heart can rest after seeing him alive. You close your eyes when the pistol next to your head clicks.

“You talk big, a life for a life then.” A tear slides down your cheek. Hobie aims for your captor's head.

“Wait a damn minute!” You hear footsteps come from behind, the older man steps between them. “I know I remember ya from somewhere.” He tips his hat at Hobie, just in time for you to see him stare at you back intensely. “Yeah, I know ya. You're the one who took out Culver's men in one night, ain't ya? Thirty fuckin’ men all dead in one night.” Gasps are heard from the dozen or so people from behind. You hear whispers of the name ‘spider of the west’ behind you. “Christ, you're him.” With his hands right next to his head in surrender, he looks over his shoulder over to you, you see fear in the old man's eyes. “Let the little miss go, Jacky.”

“An eye for an eye, Arthur—!” Jacky pleads.

“Let her go or I'll be the one putting a bullet to your head, boy!” His scream has you flinching.

Jacky reluctantly lets you go, you almost crumple to your feet but you still stand, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. Your hands tremble as you take out the musty cloth inside your mouth.

Arthur walks over to you, hand ghosting over your back. “‘m sorry about that, sweetheart.”

You walk with your head held high. “Don't say sorry.” Your tear filled eyes flick over to the bearded man. “You’re not the one who hurt me.”

“Still, I'd like to say sorry on behalf of my belligerent men.” He looks up at Hobie who's still sitting on his horse passively. But the older man seems to know the deadly storm brewing behind those emerald eyes. “I apologize for the…miscommunication. If my men knew who you were, they wouldn't have tried anythin'. Jacky and his brother are too big for their breeches. ”

“The next time I see any of you on the road, I won't hesitate.” Hobie says, eyes bright, burning like greek fire.

“As is your right. You take care now.”

You silently lift yourself up on Bucky, with the help from Hobie, hand sliding away the moment you successfully tug yourself up behind him. Hobie doesn't see how vacant your stare is. You refuse to hold on to him, you're afraid of what he did, not of him. He thinks it's the other way around, it's his worst nightmare.

As you both gallop away, the last thing you heard above the hoofbeats is the unmistakable sound of a gun going off.

—

You're getting further and further away from the town you were in. The sun sets next to you as you look at the blood caked under your nails. You no longer shake or cry, just numb.

Buckeye passes by a lone graveyard, metal fences jagged and angled awkwardly. The dilapidated chapel cracks and falls under its own weight. Crows have made a home on the old tombstones, their cawing and beady black eyes raise the skin on your arms. The names of the dead are barely readable on the tombstones—rotten pots of flowers lay on the bed of graveyard soil, black petals going back to where they came from. You look away, afraid that if you don't, you'd see yourself among them.

The large rock formations loom overhead, jagged lines curved and sculpted by time. The holes dotted along its large walls act like a thousand eyes watching over you. Beady limestone eyes twitching, bleading, and crying. The sun fades away behind the horizon, cold replacing warmth, shadows replacing light.

Everything aches, your legs are still shaking from the encounter, the rustling tumbleweeds makes you jump. Eyes frantic, breath quickening, hands going numb—mind reeling back to the bloodied dead man.

“Stop.” You say too quietly. “Stop the fucking horse!”

Hobie reigns in Bucky, halting to a stop. You slid off ungracefully, knee hitting the ground as you scramble away. Bile rises in your throat, acid expelled out of your mouth because of your near empty stomach.

Familiar footsteps walk behind you, you wait for him to close the distance, to hold you close like he has always done five years ago. Yet, he stays far, stopping just a few feet away from your trembling body.

With shaky legs, you stand up, back still facing him. You wipe your mouth clean with your sleeve, Hobie's hand twitches for the handkerchief inside his pocket. He doesn't give it to you. He doesn't know why he didn't. Sniffing, you cough, eyes still stinging.

“Did they hit your head?” He finally says something, his words echoing in the vast empty space.

“No, I'm fine.” You pass by him, hands braced on Bucky's side.

“Y/N—”

You whirl around, “I said I'm fucking fine!” Heaving, chest aching, you rub your tired eyes. “I'm fine, don't worry about me, okay? Can we go?”

“We'll camp ‘ere.” With Hobie's statement, you look back at where you came from. Your captor's camp is miles away from you now, but you swear you can still feel the barrel of his gun digging into your skull, and the rotten smell of his mouth. “They won't follow us.”

“He knew you,” your eyes don't shine with the same optimism he was greeted with. “He looked scared when he remembered you. Hobie, W–what did you do to get him to fear you like that?”

“A lot of things you shouldn't worry about.” He walks past you, grabbing his pack from the saddle. “The less you know, the better.”

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. He's not the old Hobie you remembered. He would've told you, he used to tell you everything. The gold ring in your finger feels heavy. And all the unsent letters you've hidden inside your skirt feels empty, the flowery words you've written inside are unrequited.

As day fades away to night, the moon shines bright as the stars twinkle above you. The warmth of the open fire settles into your fatigued bones, the pads of your fingers slowly regains feeling. The air is crisp, breeze blowing your lashes, cooling down the hot can of beans in front of you. The scene in front of you reminded you of the time you used to sneak out into the woods to meet with Hobie. He'd light a small fire and huddle close to you while you point out constellations. The beans are new, you wish they were bread instead, like the ones you used to nick from the kitchen.

This time, he sits across from you, far away from you as the fire cackles in between you both. The flames dance in his green eyes, a beautiful sight that you love—yet, you can't help but stay away from it.

“Cold?” He asks, hands properly warmed up from the hot can.

“No,” you answer flatly, legs tucked into you, chin placed atop your knees while you watch the embers flicker away into the dark. The cold helps, it helps numb you down.

“Alright.”

In another time he would've offered his coat, not just the shabby itchy blanket thrown over your shoulders. It all seems like a lifetime ago now.

You have no idea what caused him to leave without a goodbye, whether it was you or your unfeeling family, or for a pursuit of something better—but you know in those five years he has changed, you know he's still the Hobie you love, but you can barely recognize his heart anymore. You came to the new world for a new life with him, away from your predetermined life, because through and through you still love him. The promises he once whispered into your skin repeats in your head like a broken record. It's what's keeping you warm, sane, and in the present.

He eats silently, while you wallow into yourself. You've braved the ocean to see him, rode a dozen trains to get close to him, lost so much and gained so little just to see him alive. Was it all worth it? Worth all the calluses on your feet from all the walking? Worth all the tears you shed just to realize that maybe he doesn't love you anymore? That he fell out of love in those five grueling years?

Does he know that you still love him?

The man sitting across from you is a stranger. Not the one you promised your heart to.

“Hobie?” You call for him, heavy eyes staying on the ashes in front of you.

“Hmm?” He hums, barely audible for you. You silently wish that you don't get used to all his halfhearted replies. You need to hold on to a part of him from five years ago or you'll go crazy and run off into the barren lands of the west.

Against better judgment, against the screaming voice in your head, you finally look at him right in his eyes. “Why'd you leave?”

He quietly sighs, “I had to.” Those green eyes you love so much swirl with unsung emotion that you're not privy to. “Why'd you run away from home?”

“I had to.”

Hobie nods once.

You take your dinner in your cold hands, biting down the bitterness and the feeling. With an inhale, you smile through the pain of your realization. It's better not to dwell on it, or you might lose yourself. Instead, you take the opportunity to live in the moment with him—Relish your time with Hobie or whatever time you have left with him on the journey home.

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