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builder051 · 2 years

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I'm out to cut the junkie

With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose

Beck, Loser

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Creedless Assassins (with a touch of Nat on fire).

Ehhhh, trigger warnings--canon typical violence, drug use, alcohol, addiction, mentions of sex, mentions of dangerous behavior, mentions of death (of a villain), mentions of depression (inc. feelings of not worth living anymore--NOT suicidal), mental illness/ED-esque stuff--Basically the usual for both of these 'verses, but maybe amped up a tiny bit.

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They've been assigned a mission. Again. To stand around the third level of the parking garage, not awkwardly at at all with their full leather battle dress and weapons held at the ready.

Eventually the target would raise the blinds on the window to his office, probably when the shadows of sunlight begin to fall in the other direction over the rest of the cityscape. Sometime around 12:07 pm Eastern Standard.

They're in New York, after all, and she's something of a specialist in watching sunlight fade to moonlight and back again. It's exceptionally glorious to watch while lying on one's back in a sleeping bag, under the distorted stretch of plexiglass that protected her temporary bed from the worst of the elements. The worst of everything. A few pills. The vodka minis from the bottom of her pocket. Nat's past, her training, became more of an insurance policy. She wouldn't get hurt. She didn't last time. And the seduction of observing, absorbing the things that went on, all over the world, overpowered the needs of mere humans. Nat slept with her eyes open, gazing at half-constellations lost mostly to city dust. She slept stock-still, laid out flat, allowing fate and liquor to warm her through the night.

Nat's been home for... at least a day, now. And back to the office. Back from leave, or finished dawdling through her last mission--she's already forgotten.

"Ok." Clint checks the time on the many-handed watch face embedded in his left arm guard. "It's 11:55."

"Mm." Nat hopes her acknowledgement is audible. Sleeping in her own bed, though warmer, is a lot more dull than... camping.

The bottle of cheap rosé she had before dinner hadn't agreed with bagel and Velveeta she'd attempted to fry for an evening meal. All that had produced, though, was a lump of greasy, rock-hard bread with molten cheese product dribbling out of the hole in the middle. And the unleashing of the shrill sound of the smoke detector, which was all the way across the apartment, stuck to the ceiling above the half-wall separating living room from the bedroom. Waving a fistfull of junk mail at the thing made it shut up, but then Nat was distracted.

She jammed as much bagle into her mouth as possible, then tried to breathe and hack at the same time as rough edges of bread scraped her upper palate and a string of neon, oversalted, and still boiling non-cheese ran down her throat.

Nat heard the frying pan fall off the stove and the junk mail flop on top of it. She hopes the shopping flyers won't start to sizzle and start an actual flame. Or maybe she doesn't care. Her renters' insurance covers fire, she thinks. She could get a pay out. The smell of old smoke, suspicious ceiling stains... she's lived in worse conditions.

She makes it to the bathroom, but vomits beside the toilet. The whole room is just three feet across and barely longer than it is wide, so it's not an awful miss. Not the kind she feels guilty about; it won't require a lot of cleanup.

Unable to focus on anything but the blisteringly painful predicament in her throat, Nat's hand lands directly in her first deposit of sickness, sending her skidding on her knees and coming down hard on the toilet seat with her chin.

"Fuck." Her uvula is in some kind of limbo imprisonment, unable to force a swallow or retract enough to let the bile- soaked bread escape with the rapidly solidifying Velveeta. The sweet bite of the rosé has migrated upward as well, giving Nat an internal punch in the gut to remind her she is already full of liquid if she needs to wash herself out.

Nat bows her head and folds her arms at the back of her neck, shoulders safely tucking around her ears. Then her slimy fingertips make contact with her skin, and she shudders, then pushes a retch with her abdominal muscles.

It takes fingers at first, then hacking and stretching her neck and lips, but Nat finishes. Yanks the towel off the back of the bathroom door. Cleans her hands. The floor. Then she folds the threadbare terry cloth into quarters and mashes it against her face.

She's red from exertion. Her eyes are puffy. Watering against their will. The last of the wine, far digested by now, adds fogginess to the floatiness that Nat's always pretended was fun, like fairy wings, instead of the mark that she was about to pass out.

It had been fun, like a game, to flutter back to her dormitory and into the nest of her covers, where she could fall back asleep before the nighttime minder would hear a rustle and think about raising a brow.

Now, though, Nat's to-do list pops up behind her eyelids, flashing red in urgency. Set an alarm. Turn on her ringer. Is she safe?

That one's been hard to answer. For a while now. But she has guns and knives and an empty wine bottle and a frying pan down there somewhere, filled, sadly with greasy, defeated-looking newsprint.

Last night's wine had soothed Nat into passable sleep. She woke to her alarm, dressed, drove in, and made the breakroom's first pot of morning's coffee. It was meant to be a friendly, 'I'm back,' gesture to Clint, the most vigorous consumer of the breakroom coffee, and therefore, usually the one doing the brewing--not to mention the carafe scrubbing, grounds sweeping, filter finding, and peforming the endless tasks that went along with it.

She stood and waited for him to show up so they could both pour steaming styrofoam cups and clink them together over the manila envelope that held the information for their next assignment.

Nat may have made the coffee, even the one who ceremonially downed a cup, black, no sugar, on a raw, tender stomach, but she was not going to hold the stupid track of formality for long. God, she's been at work for two hours and she wants a hit of heroin and a flop in that one alley behind the mom-and-pop coffee and doughnuts, where the air smells amazing and somehow her other senses eat it up and fill her with unbeguiled happiness...except, of course, for the tiny sliver of brain that remains aware that if she gives into the addiction too often, she will lose her job, her income, her security clearance, her friends... her best friend. And probably her life. Not that she cares so much about that part.

"11:56." Clint reads the time out slowly. He glances to Nat. Where Nat ought to be, that is.

She's four of five yards back, leaning against a pillar, a gun tucked carelessly into the thigh pocket of her leggings. She flips the bronze caps that hold the bite cartridges in her wristbands, open, then closed. Then open...

"Hey!" Clint taps the end of his bow on the concrete floor, where it makes a brief loud note that echoes well beyond its appropriate talking-turn. "Are you paying attention?"

Nat raises her head. Which is aching.

Tylenol? Excedrin? If she can get into medical, maybe... Xanax? Fiorocet? Oxy. Now we're talking. A little vodka and, hm. Nat thinks. What's gentle on the puking system? Protein shake? Vending machine, how convenient. But does she have cash? Who can she hit up who won't be suspicious...? Peter Parker, maybe, if he's around. But asking for a kid's pocket change so she can do drugs...? It's the damn headache, really...

"Yes." Nat rolls her eyes. Which hurts. "But nobody sets alarm clocks for lunch."

Clint, who, in the past few seconds, has taken up his ready position again, scowls back at her. "I thought you liked target practice." There's a tinge of a joke in his words, but Nat's highly done with being buddy-buddy. Her claws and ability to bully and belittle are an inch below the surface, and she doesn't see them getting through the day without raising a little bad blood.

"I always win against you," Nat says plainly. She pats her gun a couple of times. "I don't have to stand there and wind up for ten years, like you do."

"Come on. You only win 'cause I let you." Clin offers what may be a sincere or deeply sarcastic grin.

"Why didn't you just bring a cadet?" Nat shrugs. She does not mean to snort. "If it's all just target practice."

"Above their pay grade," Clint answers simply. "Did you even read the brief?"

"Do you think I'm stupid or something?" She makes enough of a stony glare to cast the question seriously. Like part of an interrogation

Nat had glanced through the papers of the brief as they rode in the nondescript black SUV on the way to their start point. Nat looked at bolded words. Building diagrams. She sped-read diagonally top to bottom, then bottom to top on the adjacent page, collecting maximum information with minimum effort, and trying as hard as possible not to get carsick.

For all intents and purposes, she has read the brief. Nat's method of keeping time, though, is unadulterated by to-the-minute school bus arrivals and ice-cream shops that closed at precisely 5:30. Pointing this out to Clint... would be god's honest truth. It would also make him hate her. Probably miss all his shots. Be downgraded for poor performance. Maybe give Nat the cold shoulder for as long as they lived. She lived. Because he had reasons to carry on.

Clint turns slightly, so he's no longer looking at Nat over his shoulder. He's at a perfect 45 degrees, giving his attention to neither Nat nor the target. Which, in Nat's opinion, is exceptionally ill thought through--Not only are the 12 and 6 open to attack, but so are the 3 and 9. The target is at 1:30, and Nat's at 10:30, which, though her posture and the height of the wall of the parking garage currently form a blockade, gives her the most direct line of fire to the window of the target that, sometime in the next 13-odd minutes, will raise his window blinds and drop dead, never knowing what hit him. It'll be a bullet, though. Nat's fairly certain. But pointing that out to Clint... Well, she'll hold her tongue until he's had his chance to speak.

"I..." Clint sighs. "I think you... sometimes..." He pauses again. "You do some really stupid shit." Clint presses his lips together. "Not to say that, like, anyone else doesn't do...stuff."

Nat straightens up a little so she can see the target's window, still closed up, over Clint's shoulder.

"Hm." She doesn't think Clint sees her looking. She doesn't think Clint is aware of how much of her job she performs on autopilot. "Work's, you know, hard," Nat says. "When you've got...other stuff..."

Nat chooses to let her voice trail off. To leave Clint with the ghost of the threat, the knowledge that she has the ability to say more, to hold it over his head. She'd never do it. Clint knows she won't. But, then again, she does some stupid shit.

"I-- fuck..." Clint lets the end of his bow touch the floor again. He holds the top of it, and a few arrows, tightly between his fists, then lowers his forehead as if in shame.

Nat stays quiet. He's being a sucker, though. He's being wildly unsafe. Clint's putting himself first, putting his reputation first, putting Nat's perception of him first, flashing his honor... and leaving himself completely vulnerable. Both of them. It's he, now who has no interest in the mission.

Nat had meant to get under his skin, but she'd controlled herself. She hadn't unleashed her worst. She didn't mean to destroy him, her buddy, her mission partner.

But it's a catastrophe anyway. Nat fucks things up. She wonders vaguely how many shots of vodka she can take before a nice dose of oxy makes her fall asleep.

"The shadow doesn't cover the other half of the city this time of year until 12:07 or so." It's a declarative statement. She's not telling Clint he's wrong. That his ready position was unjustified. And certainly not that he doesn't know how to tell time.

There's gatorade in the vending machine, too. The big ones. One quart? Hopefully it's restocked. Nat hates the orange flavor. But a hangover buster's a hangover buster, all the same.

"Clint?" Nat taps her wristband against the butt of her gun, which remains in her pocket. The clank is sharp and harsh, and it doesn't produce an echo like Clint's bow against the ground.

"Ah. Yeah..." He shakes his head and blinks a few times.

Nat checks the shadow against the row of skyscrapers set a block in front of the target's window. It's past noon, she gauges. They have 5 minutes, maybe. At least that's how long they have to get back into ready positions.

"Hey! Mind the time!" Nat thinks about adding 'dipshit,' but it would only be a waste of glares and pokes and uncertainty of whether they've made it back to equal ground.

"Ah, kill me for this on," Nat mumbles under her breath. She pulls her gun from the side pocket of her leggins, letting the elastic snap satisfactorily back into shape, nary a wrinkle remaining. Nat glances quickly from the nearest parked car to the entry to the stairwell to the architectural pillars to the handicapped-accessible loading zones to the trash and recycling bins. Then she draws in a breath, gracefully lifts her shoulders, and turns in her heels. She still shoots best from a natural first position. Not forced into impossible turnout, but balanced, steady, and-- she pulls the trigger.

A perfectly round hole, just the size of a #2 pencil, appears in the ceiling above them. Nat had aimed about two feet in front of herself and five or so west of Clint, so neither one of them was actually in danger. The effect, though had them both scrambling.

"What the fuck? Why did you do that?" Clint yells toward Nat, leaping away from a shallow crack forming around the hole. A few bits of rubble, pea gravel, really, fell to the garage floor and scattered.

"Well, I got your attention." Nat squeezes past Clint and leans her elbows on the garage wall, not exactly in a ready stance, but closer and more attentive to the target than Clint, who is still trying to comb dust out of his hair and eyebrows.

"You could have fucking killed us!" Clint yells.

Nat finds his voice quite easy to ignore. The echo makes it like the cry of an animal, or the sound of a foghorn, let off once, then carrying on through the power of physics.

"SHIELD doesn't have a lot of money for damage settlements," Clint says crossly when he finally appears at Nat's side again. "If you make that thing collapse, I'm not gonna cover for you."

"It's not going to collapse." Nat rolls her eyes. "But, hey, look at that tower." She points. "Yes the migraine-inducing one that's made of polarized sunglass lenses."

"Uh..." Clint squints.

"See the cell tower on top of it?"

"Like, over there?" It's close enough. Not worth the time splitting hairs.

"For the love of the fucking birdbrain." Nat shakes her head. "Mr. wristwatch. Mr. timekeeper." Nat pauses, but Clint doesn't answer. "Sundial much?"

"Didn't those die out with the Romans or something?" Clint keeps watching the skyline, though.

"Yeah, along with bows and arrows," Nat replies flatly. "Big HYDRA officials who are also CEOs of obscure companies that manufacture dangerous chemicals with premature human trials? People who work for themselves don't take their lunch hour because the teacher told them to line up."

"Ok." Clint assumes a ready position. Then aims at the window beside the one they're supposed to be targeting. He huffs when Nat uses two fingers to nudge his arrow for a better shot. "What am I missing here?"

Adderall, Nat thinks. Or a 17th cup of coffee.

But the latter has just as much of a chance of becoming a problem instead of a pick-me-up, and Clint could be accused of public exposure, or something else random and outdated, and those are the kind of charges that flashing creds or posing for a selfie don't change a grumpy policeman's mind about the issuing of a ticket. And there's no way Nat would cover for that, either.

She wonders if Clint would cover for her if she pulled out a mini and had herself her own jolt of liquid courage. But Nat's pretty sure the bottle at the bottom of her bag has become a vestibule for used needles. She has no problem re-using a needle, as long as it's hers, only hers, and has only ever been hers. But taking a shot has only one relevant meaning at the moment, and Nat is sure she would not enjoy the introduction of a piece of slim, pointy metal to her gastrointestinal system, no matter how small and easy to swallow.

Sometimes people do stupid things.

Sometimes they do them on purpose.

The three linear points of the recycling bin, the architectural pillar, and the center of the handicapped-accessible loading area, when mapped on a diagonal, created the hypotenuse that perfectly fit the endpoints of the right angle created by the right angled corner consisting of the line stretching from bumper of the last parked car in the row to the top of Clint's head, and the line running from Clint's to the entrance of the stairwell. Each level of the parking garage is arranged in roughly the same way, or the same way in reverse as levels build upon levels. As the area of ceiling where Nat sent her bullet had nothing underneath it (well, except Clint and herself as possible casualties), it would follow that nothing meaningful would be taking up the same space on the level above them. The crosswalk toward the elevator. The mounded rock supporting a "one-way" sign. Another trash can. At worst, one of those corners marked off with diagonal lines where parking isn't allowed, but someone will try squeezing in their smart car...

But that one was worth the risk. And it was the risk, Nat supposes, that made it stupid. She has nothing to say about her geometry. It's been something of a mind-soother lately. Even though it falls away quickly to thoughts about booze. There's a kid that hangs around the office, usually in blue leggings and a letterman jacket, and Nat doesn't have a soft spot for him. Not at all. He is allowed the blue BIC pens and blank computer paper from her cubicle, though. But he may not have cardstock. And under no circumstances may he sit in her ergonomic swivel chair. But, for some reason, there are always folding chairs stacked neatly at the end of the hallway. And Nat's gained a pack of alcohol wipes, low-profile, perfectly sized to nestle beside her stapler, and claiming 99.99% germ-removal efficiency. Without the harsh smell of medical-grade disinfectant.

She hasn't told Clint. No need for more vulnerabilities, more worries, more secret confessions. No need for private codes, silent pleads for help, forgiveness when there's no promise it won't happen again.

Because that's what stupidity is, right? Making poor choices. Nat, putting needles in her arms, and Clint, refusing a medevac because he won't leave her alone in the field for five minutes without his protection, even if it's wild and delirious and completely off target. It's Budapest, it's the Chitauri, it's the time they slept together when neither of them was even drunk. Or high. The hotel room was just fucking cold. And...stupid happened. But Clint's clean, and Nat's barren, so, it's not like actual stupid happened.

"Ok." Nat calculates something like 2 minutes left. "Grown-ups with boring jobs have blinds in their offices," she says quickly, not giving Clint a chance to butt in. "Blinds go down when it's sunny. They go up when it's shady."

She sounds like a self-righteous bitch talking to an idiot, but it's important that this is communicated, even if it's simple. They live on jets and in cubicles and cheap hotels with blackout curtains.

"You can't calculate the target's movements by guessing when he stands up to go to lunch."

Nat hopes there isn't an implication that Clint's original strategy was useless. She likes to be right. She likes to be first. She does not like to see her partner, her friend, drinking the cold dregs of breakroom coffee and leaning against the back bumper of his car, which is idling while the stereo blasts something like Toto's "Africa."

In pure, stupid selfishness, it makes her wild once she gets a chance to hit up. The lame "text me," or hesitant shoulder squeeze Nat offers Clint when he's down, it never seems to solve anything. She doesn't know how to pick him up off the floor and breathe life back into him. Not really. Clint has a wife. He has a family.

And Nat has the liquor store on the corner, the Rite Aid that doesn't ID for smokes or poor man's LSD. The residual silent toe-running from her Bolshoi training from before HYDRA took her away. It still gets her in and out of unlocked rooms with pockets full of loot. The gym. The bathroom. The vending machine. That one may take algebra, though. Nat hasn't brushed up on solving for x.

Xanax. That would be great. She'd split it with Clint, and then maybe the tension would die down enough for them to finish the mission.

"People just eat when they're hungry...?" Clint probably doesn't even realize he's talking. He gives his wristwatch a glance, seeming to startle himself. "It's twelve-oh-fucking-- we probably missed it--what the--"

"Nope, just watch the sundial." Nat assumes her ready position, front knee bent and back knee straight. Elbows locked and forearms barely touching the garage wall. She sets her sight on the center of the window. Clint... she can't spare a breath, even a thought on Clint.

Nat breathes slowly, in, and out. Her body doesn't move. Her ribcage doesn't expand. Even the smallest dancers learned early that their talent meant nothing. Obedience. Perfection. The bodice of the costume may as well be a whale-boned corset. The ballet mistress will shout if the girl in the back row parts her lips, raises her collarbones. Discipline. For... Nat gives it 90 seconds, tops.

"You know what you're doing?" This time, Clint's ready position is true.

"Mm-hm."

"What's the visual confirmation?" Clint's only checking. Not annoying the crap out of her. Probably not on purpose, anyway.

"The color of his tie."

"What's the color?"

"If you don't stop it, we are going to miss the window. Window of time, I mean."

"I don't see anything," Clint protests. "And I don't feel like you're all there, with the shooting the ceiling and everything."

Nat blinks. The only movement she allows herself to make. "Shut up and watch the sun move."

"Can you just, like, confirm--"

Nat angrily spits out her answer, her words delivered at high speed and low volume. "The tie is robin's egg blue, which is his daughter's favorite color, and the color of her backpack, which is hanging in the hallway of the private school, housed in a white marble building five blocks south and four blocks east of here. Her dad is going to die within the next minute, and she will be raised in Thailand, where her mother is from, and HYDRA and chemical company and all that shit will never touch her little life again." Another faint breath. "And people stand up when they raise their blinds, fuck you very much. If you can't figure out the rest, then--"

The number on the clock no longer matters. Nor does the slant of the sunlight, though, if it would pause, visuals would be better, thus improving the success of a shot.

It's Clint that fires first, exhaling sharply and loosing his arrow the moment the target's window shade begins to rise. He's accounting for travel time, drag, the momentum lost in a collision with glass... Perhaps, as a party, they aren't as deficient in mathematics as Nat had originally thought.

Nat holds her position, counting one half-second. Two-half seconds.

Black leather belt, shiny silver buckle, white oxford over beer belly, and just the merest flash of bright pastel blue-- Nat pulls the trigger.

Once. Twice.

Then stops. Listens.

Her instinct is to empty the barrel. Overkill. Just to be sure. But that's a whole different kind of stupid, one she has to control, lest she end up on the wrong side of the system. Out of control. Mixing her alliances. Unable to stop. Committing the kind of stupid acts that create damage far, far beyond her ability to fix. Paying a dealer in the wrong currency. Swapping a piece of clothing tagged with SHIELD's contracted manufacturer's logo.

But today, Nat's able ro reign herself in. Clint usually puts a hand on her shoulder if she's on track to do too much damage. He doesn't offer the contact, though. And Nat's not sure if she'd accept it well.

It's hard to hear anything, what with the cavernous garage behind them and the bustling city out in front, but there had evidently been a smashing of glass and a direct hit to make the kill.

Nat gazes at the remains of the window for a moment, then collects her phone to record the visual evidence of the mission accomplished. The target slumps at his thick waist, torso, head, and arms hanging out the open window, his tie dangling straight down and showing impressive blood spatter.

Clint probably broke the window, at least, if not also scoring some damage to the opponent. Nat had finished him off, as evidenced by the tie and lifeless slump.

"You're actually going to send that?" Clint asks, looking at the snapshot Nat's just taken.

Nat makes a face of disgust. "It's not for my personal photo album." She creates a new message addressed to Fury, and puts Clint's name on the CC line, just for kicks. Then she adds the photo for verification of take-down. The usual 'mission accomplished' verbiage. Then a note about the hole in the concrete of the parking garage. "Misfire," Nat types.

"And I guess I'm not supposed to mention any details?" Clint raises his brow as he reads the text Nat has just copied him on.

"Oh, go to Home Depot and buy a tube of caulk." Nat rolls her eyes. and turns away. "Weekend project, right?"

"What're you going to do this weekend? You know, assuming we don't get a back-to-back." Clint asks, with just enough pointedness to his question to make it...personal. But it's difficult to tell whether he's expecting a joke or a confession for an answer.

Nat shrugs. "Sleep in. Maybe clean my bathroom." There's no reply, so she carries on. "I got one of those, like, motivational water bottles, the ones that have the lines to help you remember to hydrate all day. I don't like tap water, though, so..."

"Our fridge has a filter." It's not an invitation, exactly. Just... words. "And I might buy the kind of glue with the fumes..." They aren't looking at each other, but the flow of the words makes things fit, if not neatly, at least back together. Stupid is as stupid does, mistakes made, rescues attempted, and x most certainly = zero.

No one's better, or faster, or stronger. No one's more vulnerable, or more protective, or better than the other. They move in unison. They cancel each other out. Partners. Buddy-buddy.

Nat might walk around the block tonight collecting trophies and charms, then relaxing and slowly delighting, then riding the fairy wings that always carry her safely to sleep.

Clint will drink coffee. Maybe pop one of the stale squares of Nicorette chewing gum out of the glove box and find an album that reminds him of community college and meeting his wife and not...trauma. He'll ask Laura to join him for intense yet brief shower sex, that will only be a little rushed, due to the need to listen for the baby monitor.

Clint will volunteer for kid duty. He'll watch Laura sleep for a few minutes, then pull out his phone before bedding down himself. 9:30, he'll decide. The kids and the dog and the cereal and the legos will all be running at full force in his world. And people like them, Earth's mightiest heroes, aren't necessarily programmed to run by the hours of the clock. But 9:30 seems reasonable, Clint thinks, for a friendly check-in.

Nat probably won't have set herself an alarm the previous night. Her ringer might not be on, either. But Clint has options. Text. Call. Video Chat.

Maybe he will offer to take her to Home Depot. Not to fix that stupid hole in the ceiling of the parking garage, though.

That's technically the job of City Works, but Clint thinks perhaps Tony Stark would enjoy the opportunity to hover in midair whilst applying nuclear-force caulk in an unfortunately phallic shaped airtight container to a concrete hole roughly the size of one's pinky finger.

No. After examining the hardware on her faucet, Clint will take Nat into town and buy her a water filter attachment. A gag gift, if anything, but he wants her to have one. Clint doubts the project will require glue; socket wrenches are more likely, and maybe a screwdriver, or some washers... But they'll hit up the adhesives aisle and pick something out. Even if it turns out to be extraneous.

Stupid? Who cares. Life goes on anyway.

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mezimraky · 7 days

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yo!!!!! i have tried the little jd gross mint chocolates for the first time in years and i can finally eat them again !!! they are so delicious !!!!!

#under the sun with kai #i used to love them. then i had a bad experience with mint flavour to the point where it induced the need to vomit #i got back into mint tea like two ish years ago but i was scared to go back to these bcs they always smell so strong #but really the dark chocolate is so much more prominent than the mint and they are as good as i remember <3

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peacerainbowtiger · 1 year

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Anytime i watch ppl reblog my art with the eyestrain tag im like “damn i never thought of it like that” (with evil hyperrealistic bloodshot eyes from coloring for three hours straight)

#genny talks #obv doesn’t make me mad do what you need #but i always find it a little funny #mostly bc i use such vomit inducing bright colors all the time #and i’m way used to them by now #(NOT!! I still get headaches when i draw sometimes)

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aashi-heartfilia · 10 months

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The hypocrisy of Jinshi and MaoMao

*light novel spoilers*

I just love how hypocritical MaoMao's nature is. She yells at Jinshi for being a 'Masochist' and yet we see that she's no different. Now, by definition Masochist is a person who drives sexual gratification from their own pain and humiliation, plus it relates to Jinshi's tendency to do self harm (like burning his skin with a brand)

And what is MaoMao's most favourite thing in this world?

POISON

She literally takes pleasure in consuming it and no one can convince me otherwise. Plus she uses dangerous plants and animals and snakes whatnot in the name of her so-called experiments. Her dad may call her a 'mad Scientist' but that is a direct indication of self harm.

And she calls Jinshi a Masochist.

I mean, think about it! The amount of anxiety she gives to Jinshi! She came prepared with a vomit inducing medicine but even she had no idea whether it would work or not. She was just hoping it would work in the salt chapter.

And the same goes for her hand, on which she has conducted countless experiments. One flower even burned her skin and its marks never left her skin. She said it was all for her hobby. What kind of weird hobby is that? Maybe, our little adorable mad scientist is just like that.

One brands his own skin, while the other takes heavenly pleasure in consuming poison.

So my point is, Jinshi and MaoMao are not that different as one might think they are and that's why their dynamic works so well.

Let's look at the excerpts from volume 5:

She didn’t know how long they sat that way. All she knew was that Jinshi was looking down at her with a faintly triumphant expression, as if he saw that the breath had reached every corner of her body now. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to her eyes as she struggled to breathe. It was then that Maomao felt a flash of intense anger. “I said that if you were going to kill me, you should do it with poison,” she told him. “I refuse to let you poison yourself,” Jinshi said, his fingers tracing her lips. “You can’t pretend you didn’t know that you were one of the candidates. As much as I’m sure you’d like to.” He wasn’t done, either: “Who was that man, anyway? I’m sure you’re not a dancer.” So he had been watching them! “I was just paying for my drink,” Maomao said. “It didn’t cost much.” She tried to look away, but with his hand on her head, she really couldn’t.

Jinshi just choked her and yet he refuses to let MaoMao poison herself. A lot of people misinterpret this scene, and don't like it all that much, saying it was just fanservice stuff but this is how I see it: Jinshi wasn't trying to kill MaoMao, he was just trying to make MaoMao submit to him for once (even if the way he did it was very wrong, but guess he's kinky like that). MaoMao is actively trying to harm herself and Jinshi loves MaoMao a lot, he cannot just let her kill herself.

It was more about him trying to exert his dominance in their weirdish - complicated relationship and that also backfires on him as we see in the next volume that MaoMao escapes Jinshi's grasps using Pairin's techniques.

And then they both continue to avoid each other in the entire next volume! Because they both realised that they have crossed boundaries.

They both are hypocrites.

And they both refuse to accept their feelings.

In one of the later volumes, she gives Jinshi a piece of her mind on how he should tell her everything clearly, unequivocally, what he feels, and he literally declares that "he will make her his wife", which is nice and all but look at the wording MaoMao used here....

Excerpts from LN Vol 7, chapter 19 called "A man and a woman play the game"

"You’re forever telling me I need to use my words, Master Jinshi, but are you in any position to criticize? Everything you say to me, everything you do, it’s like it’s calculated to save you from ever having to actually say what you mean! To make me figure it all out! You know, you remind me of someone. You act exactly like a man who used to come by our brothel all the time. He was in love with one of the girls, but he would never just come out and say it. He thought it should be obvious from the way he acted. He was so sure he had a good thing going with this woman that he never sent her so much as a letter. I remember how forlorn he looked when someone else swooped in and snatched her away! He kept coming to the brothel after that—to get drunk and whine to the ladies. Well, in my opinion, he could have avoided all that heartbreak if he’d told the woman how he felt. Clearly, unequivocally, so that she knew where they stood. It was the least he could have done!”

Everything came out in a torrent. She felt like she’d said it all in one breath. It was strange, she thought, to hear so many words come out of her own mouth. She was mystified. Jinshi was no less startled, but the shock soon left his face, replaced by something else. He got up off the bed and stared down at Maomao.

Shit. Now I’ve done it. She’d given him a piece of her mind, and he was about to give her one back.

“So I should be clear, should I? Unequivocal? I should say what I mean? If I did, would you actually listen to me? Is that what you’re telling me? I’m going to hold you to that! Right this minute. I’ll say it all. Don’t plug your ears—listen to me!” He grabbed her hands as she was in the process of trying to put her fingers in her ears. He took a breath. He was looking at Maomao, but somehow he seemed almost embarrassed. Finally he managed, “Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!”

It's one heck of a chapter and I suggest you give it a go! The title of the chapter says "A man and a woman play the game" as if to emphasize the very fact that both Jinshi and MaoMao are playing the game.

Jinshi has never confessed his true feelings before this chapter and only implied that he wanted to make MaoMao his wife.

The implications were heavy though on Jinshi's part, and as smart as MaoMao is, anyone would have guessed that MaoMao was one of the candidates for Jinshi's consort. Even the clothes she received (the ones she wore to the banquet) were also provided by Jinshi along with the hairpin. It is never stated outright but seeing as the hairpin was from Jinshi, the clothes are also implied to be the same.

More or less she's always deliberately ignoring the possibility of having anything to do with him, that is more than professional. Some may call it denial, I call it dense. Maybe, to some extent, she herself is not aware of her feelings because she never lets herself feel anything.

Even Suiren pointed it out pretty early in the manga, that maybe it's MaoMao's way of being reserved. We need to keep in mind that MaoMao is an unreliable narrator and it's more of what she does, rather than what she says that makes a difference.

Even in the chapter that I have quoted above, she had every reason to leave Jinshi, she wasn't working for him after all. But she stayed to make tea for him, even after the fact that she had a long day too. She was almost just as exhausted as Jinshi and yet she was there preparing medicinal tea, so that he could get a better sleep.

Maybe she herself is yet to realise just how deep her feelings run. Till vol 12 she seems to have accepted them, but she still is yet to acknowledge their depth. Maybe it's because of her childhood.

It's not a traumatic backstory but MaoMao had a sad childhood nonetheless....

She was raised by her grand uncle and her real father was eccentric, who scared her. Her mother must also appear to be kind of demonic to her, since she was desperate enough to cut MaoMao's Pinky finger and send it to Lahan. So it's safe to say that MaoMao never received proper parental affection. And adding to the fact that, a brothel is not exactly an ideal place for raising a child.... especially when the birth of MaoMao was the one thing that brought the brothel to its knees...even if being born wasn't her choice.

Plus MaoMao stated it herself that when she was a baby, no one would come to sooth her until their work was finished, implying that even if MaoMao and her brothel sisters are close, they are not that close. A mother's love is different and she never received it. No one can love you more than your mother and MaoMao was deprived of that. She soon realised that no one was coming. Life is hard and she has no choice but to face it!

So, she got interested in poison.

Maybe she doesn't love herself or her life as much as she says / pretends she does. She's always like "yeah, I would very much like my head to be with my body" and "if I stay low profile maybe I can survive here" etc but maybe deep down that's not the case. Maybe that's why she loves poison so much. The implications are crazy.

And to break MaoMao's shell, Jinshi has no choice but to be a bit more forceful at times? At least that's how I interpret that choking scene. Jinshi was angry at MaoMao because she deliberately suggested him to marry consort Rishu and danced with Rikuson.

Even if Jinshi never said it outright, he was giving hints the entire time.

But well the tables turned and MaoMao topped him instead, lol (vol 7) and later we even see that our little stray cat has accepted Jinshi and she's ready to be in a relationship with him (vol 12).

Plus she is intrigued by the process of birth (she wants to eat her baby's placenta, it's kind of uggghhh.... but anyways, that MaoMao we're talking about, she's just weird that way)

Maybe not after too long she'll realise that if she has to give birth, she can only have it with Jinshi and no one else.

~Sunshine

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Cool Girl

Ghoap x female reader / 18+ / previous

The sunrise stabs under your eyelids with malicious intent.

You don’t have much of a hangover, but your face is still puffy, under eyes swollen. You’ve been crying all night, and it’s painfully obvious.

Not to mention the lack of sleep. The vomit induced by your overwhelming anxiety, the bile still scorching your throat. You haven’t slept more than an hour. You look like the walking dead.

You tried to have a serious talk with yourself around two o’clock in the morning. You told- no you promised- yourself you’d leave well enough alone. You’d put them out of your mind. You’d move on.

They never wanted you. So why are you so insulted that they did exactly what they said they would? You weren’t theirs. You’d never be theirs.

Good enough to keep in bed. Good enough to keep out of sight. But not someone they’d consider theirs.

You’re no one’s. You’re just… yours.

Which is fine. It’s more than fine. You’re cool. You don’t need them, or anyone.

Your hand won’t stop shaking though. It shakes when you turn on the water for the shower, shakes as you try to shave. It shakes through your first cup of tea and then your second, shakes when you curl up the couch and huddle under your blankets, staring blankly at reruns of some laugh tracked sitcom. It’s because you haven’t slept or you’re hungover or something-

And it only stops when your doorbell rings.

You slam your eyes shut. You’re not expecting anyone, and that alone makes you feel like there’s probably someone on the other side of the door that you decidedly do not want to see.

The glance through your peephole confirms your suspicions.

It’s Johnny. He’s standing squarely in front of your door, bouquet of flowers in his hand.

Your head starts to pound, and he knocks on the door.

“I know ye’re home, bonnie. I saw yer car in the garage.” You’re frozen on the other side, separated by a piece of metal and wood that suddenly feels less substantial than it ever has before.

When the lock doesn’t click, he knocks again. “‘m not leavin’ until I see ye.” You groan.

“Stalking me now?” You spit when you open the door and he grins sheepishly.

“Naw...” He doesn’t elaborate and you stand in the frame of the door, trying to block him from peering over you- though it’s no use. You watch his critical gaze take inventory of what he can in your flat, and then he returns his attention to you, holding out the flowers.

They’re tulips. Maybe twenty, twenty five stems, all in a spectacle of color. They’re beautiful, and your favorite.

It surprises you. That they even know that about you. That they would remember a comment you must have made in passing.

It gives you pause. It’s confusing.

“Got these for ye.” He’s… such a boy. A grown man, a decorated military man, a strong man but still… such a boy. He’s never looked more like a boy than he does now, eyes wide and nervous, shifting his weight from leg to leg. He blinks, eyelashes feathery and dark, and you’re left to wonder if he gets it from his mom or his dad. Does he have sisters? Brothers? Nieces or nephews? You ached for those pieces of them, before.

Now, the lingering questions fill you with embarrassment.

He steps forward, and you shrink back. His gaze flickers, and then clears, holding the overflowing bundle of colors towards you.

“Thanks.” You say stiffly, careful to avoid his fingers when you pull it free.

“Can I come in?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He chews on his lip.

“Ye look tired, love. Did ye get any sleep?” You sniff, hand resting on your hip.

“I’m fine.”

“Ye dinnae look fine.”

“Why are you here?” You’re cracking with exasperation, legs going weak. You’re not strong enough to stand here and survive an onslaught.

“Need to talk with ye, like we said last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, like I said last night.” You parrot with a irritated exhale.

“Ye know that’s jus’ not true. We need to talk about what ye saw, what ye think ye saw-“

“What did I see? Since apparently you know what I’m thinking now.” You’re too tired for this. You don’t want to do this. You want to crawl back into bed and hide under your blankets.

“Ye think ye saw us with another woman, or on a date, but-“

“I saw your hands on another woman. I saw her smiling at you like-“ you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I saw,” he swallows, mouth pressing into an uncomfortable line, “I always knew this wasn’t real, that it didn’t mean anything but-“

“Ye agreed. Ye always said ye didnae want a relationship.” He reminds you sharply, and you nearly swallow your tongue.

“Yeah, I didn’t, so.” The lie is foul on your tongue, rancid and spoiled, but you give it life regardless. Fuck them. You’re fine.

“But yer mad ye saw us with another woman.” He raises an eyebrow, and you never wanted to punch someone so badly.

But instead of a rising tide of anger, you get an overwhelming wave of despair, and tears prick at the corner of your eyes.

“Ah, no, love. Please, please dinnae cry. ‘m sorry, this is such a mess. We never meant for any of this.” Your hand starts shaking again, trembling against the plastic wrapped around the stems, and Johnny’s expression changes from sad to worried. “What’s this?” He tries to reach, fingers grazing the back of your arm.

“N-nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Love-“

“Just… go away.” Your patience snaps, shatters, and his face falls. It almost makes your feel bad.

Almost.

#peaches writes #Ghoap x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john mactavish #john mactavish x reader

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jalboyhenthusiast · 2 years

Note

don’t even get me started on men not putting the seat down! the only man in my house is my dad so he always puts the seat down but my sister’s boyfriend never does whenever he comes round and it is like this isn’t your house! put the seat down! for the love of god!

literally whyyy do they do this ?? are they not embarrassed?? and what’s worse is that this happens at work. we have private shower/toilet rooms but they’re unisex and i always know when i’m using it after a man 🤢

#don’t even get me started on what my old job was like #we had one toilet between all of us and using it after my boss was vomit inducing #i won’t go into details but like where is the shame?? why don’t they care #ask #anon

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suugarbabe · 1 year

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the 'anything but' party | m.r x reader

prompt: it’s a gryffindor (maybe) party but it’s acc a theme party. the theme is dressing up as another house and reader (not a slytherin) borrows some of the boys’ quidditch clothes (like a bomber jacket or a jersey) and theo/mattheo get super jealous even though reader and him aren’t together. but it’s like he’s been after her for the whole year but she likes to play hard bc he normally doesn’t have to make any effort to have whoever girl he wants at his feet, and she doesn’t want to be just another girl, if you get what i mean? so she just shows up wearing another guys’ name and he goes feral.

word count: 2.2k

warning: angst, smut, heavy smut, 18+ MDNI!!

You were okay with parties. You weren’t ever overly obsessed with them, but the party tonight you were particularly excited about. It was a theme party. The theme being any house but your house. Very typical of the Gryffindors to throw something that will likely cause absolute chaos, but you were here for it.

You threw on the jersey you had borrowed from Enzo Berkshire. You had a few classes with him and was even partnered with him in potions last year. When you heard about the theme he was the first person you went to. You asked if you could borrow his jersey for the party and he was more than willing to loan it out to you.

As you threw it on it fell to about mid thigh. You thanked Merlin for Enzo’s height because now you could just wear his jersey as a dress. You turned to Luna, who had borrowed a bomber jacket from Blaise, “How do I look Lunes?”

She tilted her head, smiling and clasping her hand together, “You look marvelous! I think it would’ve suited us well to be sorted in to Slytherin.”

You laughed a little, “Yeah, I do quite like how I look in green.” Your thoughts drifted to another Slytherin that would be able to accommodate your new favorite color.

“Thinking about Mattheo?” Luna’s voice cut into your internal monologue and your cheeks instantly flamed.

You did your best not to stutter over your words, “I don’t, erm, I mean why do you ask?”

In very Luna fashion, she made no comment about you being flustered, her voice fluttering out like a feather with simple observation, “I only ask because it’s obvious that he likes you very much. It’s quite sweet, really. Are you going to finally tell him that you like him as well?”

You couldn’t help but stare at her dumbfounded. You figured your constant rejections to Mattheo’s advances made it appear to everyone that you did not reciprocate his feelings. That wasn’t actually the case, but you wanted to make him work for it.

Girls came far too easy for Mattheo, basically throwing themselves at him. It was vomit inducing to you at times, how blatantly obvious they would be and how he essentially cherry-picked whatever girl he was feeling that particular moment.

You weren’t going to be one of those girls, you absolutely refused it. So when you first noticed Mattheo staring at you at the beginning of the year, you just rolled your eyes anytime they connected to his.

The first time you did this, his eyebrows shot to the ceiling, not used to this type of response from a woman. When he tried to stop you after class, you quickly shot your hand up before he could even get a word out, “Not interested, Riddle.”

He was met with a chorus of “ohhhh’s” from his friends, which likely died down quickly due to a glare or threat from the scorned man. He tried again after that…and just about every other day from that first moment you rejected him until this morning.

You weren’t blind, you knew Mattheo was attractive. Hell, you’ve known since the bloody sorting ceremony in first year. But the way that all of the girls swooned over him, and how he so obviously ate it up, you vowed to never be that girl.

So for the last six years, you never really paid him any mind. You knew he was there, you knew his reputation, but he never really consumed your thoughts. So when he started staring at you, then starting actually pursuing you, you couldn’t quite understand why your heart would beat faster, or get butterflies in your stomach.

You had boyfriends throughout your school career, even dating the quidditch captain of your house, but something about Mattheo focusing solely on you like he has made your stomach flutter like no other guy you’d been with. You weren’t even with Mattheo, but him pursuing you essentially deterred any other guy from coming up to you.

Finishing your hair and makeup, you and Luna joined a few other Ravenclaw’s and headed to the Gryffindor common room. Walking through the portrait hole you would think there was nothing going on, but as soon as you passed through the entryway you broke the silencing charm barrier and was assaulted with the sound of bass and smell of weed.

You looked over at Luna, who took a deep inhale, “Don’t you just love that earthy smell?” You couldn’t help but laugh at her care-free spirit. “I’m gonna go get a drink, do you want one?” Luna nodded, telling you she was going to find Blaise and to look for her in the usual spot.

Heading to the drink table you spotted Enzo who was adorning a Ravenclaw cardigan. You had a little skip in your step, sidling up next to him and grabbing cups for you and Luna, “Well hey there, looking dashing in blue and bronze.”

He smirked at you, leaning against the table while you got yourself a drink, “Looks like you were sorted into the wrong house. Green definitely suits you.” You turned to him, a drink in each hand, “Thank you, Enzo.”

He held an arm out, “Shall we? I’m assuming you're not doublefisting tonight and one of those is for Miss Lovegood?” You let out a laugh, nodding and following him to the back corner where his gang of miscreants resided. You both were simply walking next to each other. Your hands were full with both drinks and while he only had one his other hand was flailing around in the air as he recounted aspects of the last Slytherin quidditch game.

So when you reached the group, you were surprised that Mattheo’s face was set in a scowl. You quirked an eyebrow when he finally met your eyes, which took a moment as his were apparently taking their sweet time scanning your body, his eyes rolled, scoffing slightly and leaning back on the couch.

You decided to be bold tonight, Luna’s voice from earlier in the back of your head. You greeted the others, then went and sat down next to Mattheo. As soon as your ass hit the chair, Mattheo scooted a few inches away from you. You told yourself not to be hurt by this, but he had essentially been trying to be all over you for the last month and a half.

“What’s wrong with you?” you turned to face him, one leg now on the couch, causing the jersey you had on the ride higher on your leg. Mattheo’s eyes cast down briefly, seeing more of your skin exposed before meeting your eyes again.

“What are you wearing?” His eye contact was intense, making you squirm a little. “It’s a theme party, I’m wearing Slytherin clothes.” He let out a huff of air through his nose. You narrowed your eyes at him now, asking him again, “What’s your problem?”

He pinched the number that laid just above your left breast, your breath getting caught in your throat with how close his hands were, “You’re wearing Enzo’s jersey.” You couldn’t quite place his tone but it sounded almost like…jealousy? This made you smirk a little and now the wheels in your mind were turning.

You shrugged your shoulders, “I thought it looked cute.” Your hands caressing the side of your body to the hem of the jersey. You saw his eyes follow your hands as you roamed your body, now focused on where your hands played with the hem, “And it’s so long on me I didn’t even have to wear any panties.”

You saw the clench in his jaw, and you’d be lying if you said the action didn’t send a searing heat through your body. You started to pull the jersey higher up your legs, just to tease him a little. His hand shot to your wrist, “Stop.” You smirked at him, “What’s wrong, Teo?”

The nickname was something new you were toying with and it seemed to have the effect you were looking for as the grip he had on your wrist tightened. He placed his other hand on your thigh, using it as leverage to lean closer to you.

His lips ghosted the shell of your ear, goosebumps rising along your skin, “It’s gonna be really hard for me to fuck you with Berkshire’s jersey on.” Your cheeks immediately turned red. You turned your head, staring into his eyes, faces so close your noses are nearly brushing against one another. Your heart was beating out of your chest, you feared he could hear it over the bass of the music.

Your facade was failing, quickly. The desperation you were feeling was more extreme than you could control. “Kiss me,” you requested, eyes not leaving the brown ones you were gazing at. He laughs softly, smirk adorning his face as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Normally that type of cockiness from him would have you leaving Mattheo there hot and bothered but tonight you found yourself leaning towards him with just as much anticipation. His mouth slotted against yours, he tasted like cigarettes and firewhiskey. You latch onto him, fisting a handful of the hufflepuff cardigan he chose for the party.

When you finally pull away, lungs burning for air you can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face. Mattheo’s lips were red and swollen. You look at him with big eyes, silently telling him you wanted more than was possible in the open common room.

Mattheo glanced around, searching for a solution. He stood up quickly, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the stairs to the dorms. He led you down a hall, opening the first door he could find and pulling you in behind him.

Before you could even glance around the room Mattheo had you pressed against the door. His arm circled your waist, sliding down the small of your back before grabbing a handful of your ass, his mouth attaching itself to your neck, sucking at biting at the soft skin there. The action had the most obscene noise leaving your throat.

His grip on your ass tightens, holding you flush against his body as he tucks a knee between your legs. You whine at the contact, the fabric of his trousers grazing against your bare clit. He braces himself with his free hand on the door, resting his forehead to yours, “Merlin, I’ve been wanting to make those noises leave that pretty mouth of yours all year.”

You open your mouth to respond, fully prepped to give a witty retort when he pressed his leg against you again. A whimper leaves your throat this time and Mattheo looks cockier than you’ve ever seen him.

You gripped his forearm, “Teo…please.” You looked up at him through your lashes as his hand dipped under the jersey, fingertips feather light on your skin. “So needy, love. Had to wear someone else’s jersey just to get me riled up, hmm?” His head dips down, lips grazing the sensitive skin where your neck and collarbone meet.

He bites you lightly, nipping and sucking at the skin there, surely leaving his mark in a place where it’d be hard for you to hide, claiming you as his. You’re basically grinding yourself on his leg now and Mattheo thinks he can cum from the sight of you using him for your own pleasure.

“So wet, love, can feel you through my trousers,” Mattheo grabs your hips, stilling you against his leg emitting another whine from you. “You gonna be good f’me, love?” he was teasing you now, but that didn’t stop you from nodding pathetically.

He dragged the material of the jersey over your hips, a gasp releasing itself from your lips as the air hits your bare center. Your teeth are sinking into your bottom lip and Mattheo drops to his knees. He puts one of your legs over his shoulder, your hand shooting to his shoulder to brace yourself as his tongue licks a stripe up your dripping cunt.

A mewl spills from your mouth and you swear you can feel him smirk against you. Without warning he plunges two fingers deep inside you, your back arching off the door and into his touch. His free hand grabs your hip, stabilizing you against the door.

He flattens his tongue, dragging it from his fingers inside you back to your sensitive nub. Your other hand flies to his curls, fingers laced and pulling harshly. This only spurs him further, curling his fingers inside you. They rut against your g-spot, pressure building in your lower belly.

You thank Merlin for the loudness of the party because the sounds Mattheo was getting you to make were sinful. His lips are attached to your clit, mercilessly sucking and licking and humming against the bud.

Your legs are trembling and Mattheo’s grip on your hip tightens, your vision begins to blank, mouth hanging open in a silent scream, you can’t even cry out, your mind dizzy with anything but the bliss that Mattheo is giving you between your legs as your tumbling over the edge.

He continues to eat you through your orgasm, overstimulating your clit as he slowly removes his fingers. “Fuck, Teo,” you breathe, trying to catch your breath as he lowers your leg from his shoulder.

Mattheo stands, mouth attaching to yours immediately. You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He trails kisses along your jaw, down your neck then up to your ear, “Now let’s get you out of this fucking jersey.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #golden era #harry potter

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drak3n · 10 months

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VETERINARIAN!SATORU

CONTENT WARNINGS: fluff, angst, hurt & comfort, loss of a pet, poisoning, smut, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy and children, dad!gojo, this one’s kinda sad but it ends well i promise!!

sena’s note: i was torn between dentist or vet!gojo and then i was like… all animal-loving men can get it and so can gojo.

MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST

➩ VET!SATORU who had studied and graduated abroad, having finished his studies with excellent grades and a bright future ahead of him

➩ VET!SATORU who had a hell lot of patients, and who was aware that over half of them were pets owned by ladies yearning to see the attractive young doc in scrubs, which he couldn’t blame them for

➩ VET!SATORU who never rejected new patients even when his assistants complained multiple times about how overbooked the calendar always was, because to him, all that mattered was to nurse all furry little babies back to health

➩ VET!SATORU who was about to close the clinic one evening, his assistants all having left long ago, just to hear the sounds of faint footsteps rushing to approach the clinic

“please, please help him! i— he’s been poisoned, i couldn’t—”

your sobs were cut off by satoru immediately unlocking the door he had locked seconds ago, and he tenderly took the faint cocker spaniel from your shaking arms. he was barely breathing, and foaming at the mouth.

“miss, try to calm down,” he told you calmly, pointing at one of the chairs in the treatment room when he saw how distraught you were. he would love to cheer you up right now, but time was critical. very much so. “please sit down. i’ll do anything i can.”

you mumbled prayers under your breath as you watched satoru checking your baby’s vitals, injecting apomorphine intravenously to induce vomiting. but it was too late.

➩ VET!SATORU who spent the next few hours in the clinic, watching you break down over your best friend’s loss as you fondled and kissed him, unable to let go; who despite loving his profession so dearly, couldn’t help but loathe it at times like these

➩ VET!SATORU who felt incredibly guilty watching you leave with the unmoving body of your senior dog’s in your arms after you told him you’d be burying him in your parents’ house garden

➩ VET!SATORU who couldn’t really sleep after that, his mind occupied with the images of you desperately trying to save your pawed friend and who grieved the loss of a companion from your teenage years

➩ VET!SATORU who took in two puppies who had been left in a box in front of the clinic, both pretty shades of brown, one of which had the same slightly curled fur as the dog that had slipped from his fingers and he had failed to save

➩ VET!SATORU who walked into the clinic one morning, greeting all waiting patients and their owners enthusiastically, just to pause when he sighted you standing at the counter

➩ VET!SATORU who called you inside first and watched through shaded glasses as you handed him a bag, your eyes dampening when you stared at the table your dog had taken his last breath on

“i forgot to thank you for your services and how you tried everything to save him,” you said softly, voice wavering, “i will pay for it before leaving, i just wanted to give you this.” he swiftly shook his head no, hesitantly accepting the bag to take a look inside. it was a box of chocolates and a bag of dog treats.

“these were his favorites,” you pointed out, chuckling nostalgically, “used to gobble them up like there was no tomorrow. i figured that the other girls and boys who come here might want to try what my boy loved.”

➩ VET!SATORU who excused himself for a second and returned with two tiny pups in his arms who wagged their tails at the charming young man, watching the way your eyes lit up at both of them

“some vile person just abandoned them in front of the clinic. they resemble your baby, don’t you think? i was going to keep both because i never give any animal away, but if you—”

“yes, absolutely!”

you carefully accepted one of the pups, cooing softly when it yipped and snuggled into your touch. satoru just smiled when you then stared at the other pup, seeing the obvious resemblance between them.

“i wouldn’t want to seperate them, though.”

he fell in love with you at that very moment.

“this little, handsome buddy is welcome to come and visit his lovely sister anytime.” he was happy that he finally got to see you smile and laugh.

➩ VET!SATORU who knew that you were the one when he saw you tending to your new pup with the utmost care, always eager to learn more about how how to handle and raise a puppy correctly

➩ VET!SATORU who already had a little family with you, because was there anything more intimate and sweet than having pets together? — but who couldn’t help but wish to have children with you as well

➩ VET!SATORU who was thrilled to find out the feeling was mutual

“wha— you’re off the pill?”

satoru was in the middle of fucking into you skillfully when you confessed it to him. you whimpered at his sudden lack of movement, nodding bashfully. “i know this is not the right time, but—,” you babbled, taking his hand to guide it to your lower belly, “‘m ready, satoru.”

his mind wandered to you swollen with your beautiful kids, tits leaking with your nourishing, sweet milk and face gifted with a natural pregnancy glow — not that you needed it.

“cum inside, ‘toru,” you whined against the pretty veterinarian’s kisses in-between his hips snapping against yours, “make me a mommy. gimme all of it.”

there was no way in hell that satoru wasn’t going to knock you up after this. and put a pretty little ring on your finger, of course.

➩ VET!SATORU who knew he had all he wanted as he saw you walk into the clinic a year later to visit your husband with your tiny babygirl on your arm, a spitting image of her father, and your two former pups on a leash, now grown in size as they wagged their tails wildly upon seeing the tall man in scrubs

➩ VET!SATORU who wondered if you’d say yes to a second child…

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pricegouge · 2 months

Text

Haul

Part Two MDNI

Master list | on ao3

slasher!trucker!141 x reader

series cw: dark fic. major character deaths, rape/noncon

chapter cw: stalking, car crash, graphic depictions of violence, character death/murder, vomiting

The shop's dismal - likely hasn't been remodeled since the eighties. You doubt they've rotated stock since that time either, judging by the designs on some of the packaging. You make a mental note to check expiries and idle on, the carpet of dust tracked in by generations of long haulers puffing up around your footsteps as you wait for your friend. When she's done, you hand the keys off to Ash as she shuffles past with a sleepy request to get her a Red Bull and a danish for her breakfast. You tell her no problem, waving her own card at her because you know she won't notice. From the grimy gas station window, you watch dutifully as she approaches the car and struggles with the manual lock a few times, but ultimately climbs in. You hope against hope that she's re-engaged it behind herself, though you doubt she's remembered.

You pull off for gas at a truck stop just before you get on the highway, stealing Ash's card because she never did buy you - or anyone else - a drink. She sleeps on, unaware as you fill her car up. That's what she gets for not topping it off at the last stop anyway. The relative chill of night brings out all sorts of wildlife and you swat at the bugs swarming under the station lights as you keep half an eye on the trucks assembled around you despite knowing you won't spot Simon's familiar grill. Your rearview had faithfully returned just the one truck behind you for a long time, though it had eventually turned north some miles back.

Reassured, you shake Ash awake to ask if she needs to use the restroom and follow her grouchy, tipsy ass inside. The bell above the door echoes loudly when you step through, turning the heads of the assembled mass of sleepy truckers your way. Ash doesn't seem to notice, barrelling through toward the restroom like only someone who's broken the seal already tonight could. You kinda envy her single mindedness, the obliviousness it brings. You, on the other hand, can feel every set of eyeballs on you with glaring clarity. Reasoning it's the lingering paranoia, you force indifference and peruse the coffee options while you wait for Ash to be done with the bathroom, tactfully avoiding eye contact with the man next to you by trying to appear engrossed in your phone.

The bathroom is a dingy, single person affair. The water runs too hot, creating a germophobia-inducing level of humidity that has you rushing through the motions, barely able to stand the sight of the nearly damp (seriously, why is it nearly damp?) toilet paper roll. Outside, you shudder in relief and then laugh at yourself when you see a tall man waiting in line, arching his dark, perfectly sculpted eyebrow at your antics.

"Sorry," you giggle. "It's uh -." Glancing between the bathroom and him, you affect a sympathetic grimace and wish him luck in there.

He curls his lip at you. "Did you blow it up?"

"What -? No. God, no. Sorry, it's just uh -." You try to laugh it off, stop dead as he continues to look unamused. "You know what? Nevermind. Have a good one." Breezing past him, you smirk viciously when you hear him enter the bathroom with a small, distressed-sounding cry.

You're just putting the cap on your coffee when he finds you again, announcing his presence by standing much too close and waiting for you to look up at him. "Sorry about… that," he starts and you shrug noncommittally. "I did not, in fact, have good luck in there."

Despite your better judgment, he earns himself a laugh with that one. He's handsome, the charm that comes with it enough to earn you over when he's not actively being an asshole. "Tried to warn you."

"You did," he agrees, big brown eyes gleaming with mischief. "And I was a right dick. I'd blame it on all these odd hours I've been keeping, but that's no excuse."

You nod thoughtfully, hoping if you don't take the conversational bait soon enough, he'll let it drop. A beat passes, another. Tall and handsome doesn't pardon himself and you sigh. "So, are you a trucker?"

"Who else would be haunting a truck stop at such an ungodly hour?" He laughs, but the humor doesn't reach his eyes. Instead they're hard, questioning.

You offer no answer. "Right, well. Hopefully your hours get a little better soon." You tip your coffee to him as if in cheers, turning back toward the pastry aisle.

He doesn't let you get far. "Did I see you back at that roadhouse?" he asks abruptly, and you spin on the spot, incensed suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

Doe eyes offers no explanation, instead looking you over openly as you do in kind. Tall, lean, he's the kind of handsome that would stand out anywhere, let alone in some ratty old bar in the middle of nowhere Arizona, where a man wearing a gaiter to cover his cleft lip and shredded nose had been the only one attractive enough to grab your attention all night. "You weren't -?"

"Where's your friend?"

There's no helping the way your eyes automatically dart to the window. Outside, Ash looks for all the world to have fallen peacefully asleep, but here, in this dirty little truckstop with your arms full of shitty, cheap snacks, it's dawning on you that you've now met two truckers with English accents in one night, and that's probably not normal.

"Not her," this new one says now, eyes unblinking as they bore into you. "Big guy. Simon."

It's unclear, in the panic that follows, if you bother telling him to go fuck himself before dropping your loot to the floor and scurrying off, hot coffee splashing across your ankles. He laughs as he calls after you, hollering about keeping your shirt on. You feel bile begin its ascent up your esophagus and swallow it back hard.

A truck blocks your path as you emerge from the store, air brakes firing loud enough to drown out the bell over the door. You dart around the back of it, and then instantly regret it when the driver hangs his head out the window to yell at you about situational awareness and general truck safety in an accent that has you fumbling with the driver's side handle.

"Yae listening to me?" he demands, and you spare him a glance just long enough to memorize intense, icy blue eyes and a fucking mohawk. You console yourself to know if you're going to be stalked across state by three Europeans, at least they're none too inconspicuous.

Ignoring the Scot, you eye the storefront through the gap between his trailer and cab. You don't spot the other one, which only makes your anxious yanking on the handle worse. "C'mon," you hiss, banging on the glass when you realize your worry that Ash would forget to lock the door had been unfounded, as she had indeed locked you out.

You start yelling and pounding on it when mohawk climbs down from his cab, hollering about wanting to talk to you. "Ash!" You're not even watching for a reaction, eyes darting between the known threats in your peripheral. The Scot is nearing, rounding the end of the car while on the other side of his trailer, you spy the clerk watching apathetically from the relative safety of the cash wrap. Your eyes dart back to the approaching driver as you bang on the window more, but then rip back toward the store when you realize the scope of your gaze takes in much more than you should be able to see, considering you've been left to look through the gap between cab and trailer.

It takes you a moment to realize what you're looking at, the small trailer not something you ever would have noticed before tonight. Now, however, you recognize the odd silhouette of the short container on the full size rig the moment you focus on it, remembering how it followed you out of the bar.

"Stay away," you warn as mohawk rounds the corner. He does not look at all swayed by your words. You're debating trying your luck with running when the door moves beneath your hands, cracking you in the hip.

"Get in!" Ash yells, but you're already on it, slamming the door shut before the Scot can even take another step. He's in your window soon enough though, banging on it and testing the lock much like you had. He mocks you, mimicking your cries to let him in. You try to ignore it in favor of fumbling with the keys while Ash jitters in the seat next to you, far too confused to be much help.

"Who is that?" she asks, just as the engine roars to life. You peel out, pushing the old beater for all it's worth while Ash keeps muttering questions you don't have the answers to. She watches the rearview so you can focus on driving, letting you know when mohawk's truck exits the station in hot pursuit.

You curse, daring to press ever harder on the accelerator, hoping against hope that even this old piece of shit has better pick up than a semi. It goes well until it doesn't: your headlights shining on the tail of yet another truck which rushes up to meet you at an alarming speed. Easing into the oncoming lane, you try to pass it, only to veer right back in when the cab of the truck comes swerving out in front of you.

"What is this guy's problem?" you seethe, blaring on your horn. Ash whines warningly, but you don't need to check the rearview to know the Scot is coming in hot; his headlights reflected in the chrome trailer in front of you above your own. The truck up ahead seems unsympathetic, returning fire with his air horn as he continues to weave into your path.

"Look, the ramp!" Ash calls, pointing to the sign for the upcoming interstate. You nod, already planning a daringly illegal U-turn using one of the highway's emergency turnabouts if it comes to it because you know if nothing else, Ash's shitty car can bang a quicker turn than the asshole behind you can.

Too bad the trucker in front seems to recognize this possibility, too. When he puts his blinker on for the ramp, you don't think much of it beyond a general frustration that you'll be stuck behind him a while longer; but when he eases his truck onto the exit and just… doesn't move, you know you've miscalculated.

"There's room," Ash asserts, pointing to the scrap of space left in front of the nose of the truck. You hesitate, knowing full well that it was a move Ash herself would've been able to pull off, but doubting your ability to make the turn at the speed you were currently going.

"Fuckin', go!" You lock up when Ash leans over and yanks the wheel, doing your best to simply maintain speed. There's a moment of relief as you count each wheel slipping past the passenger window, and then the chrome truck releases its brakes, tapping your front bumper just hard enough to send you tail spinning back out into the road.

Returning to yourself, you curse as you yank on the wheel, slamming on your brakes when the chrome truck follows you back out onto the lane so as not to get can opened by the bottom of his trailer. You evade the truck in front, blessedly, but in all the commotion you'd missed the twenty footer coming in hot behind you, and you nearly bite your tongue off when he rear ends you with just enough force to lock your seatbelts, knocking the wind from you.

"What the fuck is going on!?" Ash demands. "Did you piss them off?"

You want to tell her to shut her mouth; want to cry even more. You only realize you already are when you go to respond and find your voice croaky and weak. "There was a man inside. He - he said he'd seen us at the bar and asked where Simon was. He freaked me out cause he had an English accent and I feel like I definitely would've noticed him at the bar, but I didn't see him there -."

"He cute?" Ash can't help but ask, glomming onto the way you'd said you would've noticed him.

"Can you focus!?"

"Right, sorry."

"So I came running outside, only that fucking guy," you motion behind you illustratively, "started yelling at me and he also has an accent, and then I realized he has a short trailer like the one that followed us out of the bar and -. And -."

"Shit," Ash hisses, following your train of thought. "Okay. Fuck. Okay."

"This was coordinated, right? That's the guy from the store in front of us. They had to have planned -!" You're cut off from continuing when another love tap to your back end gets the car jolting. "I don't wanna fucking die like this," you mutter, eyeing the rear bumper in front of you which you're damn near eye level with. If the Scot wanted to, he could ram you so hard you'd kiss that chrome and lose your head in the process.

"You're not gonna die here." Ash's voice is oddly assertive. Reassuring. You glance at her, surprised to see her unbuckling. You ask what she's doing but she ignores you, shoving at the sunroof window until you hear the wind whipping down into the cabin.

"Ash, what the fuck?" you repeat, too concentrated on keeping the car perfectly equidistant between the two trucks to figure out how to stop her.

"Just wanna talk," she nearly laughs as she hauls herself half out the sunroof, screaming threats and obscenities.

You go rigid with fear, sweating as you try to maintain perfect speed because you know if you get knocked from either end right now, your friend will likely end up with a broken spine. You try telling her as much, but between the wind and the yelling, your voice doesn't even carry far enough to reach your own ears. Unable to watch the rearview for the body currently blocking it, you keep your eyes glued to the chrome trailer in front of you, measuring mohawk's distance based on the size of his headlight glare. You're doing well, even feeling confident enough to attempt pulling Ash back into the car - when doe eyes taps his brakes and you panic, toe easing onto your own just hard enough to have the Scot barrelling into you.

A grunt and an oddly chunky splashing sound. You worry Ash was somehow JFK'd down the back of the car, but then she's collapsing back into her seat, clutching her belly and wiping sick from her face.

"Shit, are you okay?" You cry, hands shaking where they grip the wheel. Ash just nods, going wide eyed as her eyes shift past you out the back window.

In the reflection of the chrome trailer, you see mohawk's headlights drift off into the oncoming lane. For just a moment, you allow relief to wash over you, even tapping your brakes to let him merge ahead of you. Then his tail end clears your own and another set of headlights glare back at you, white hot and molten as they spill across the sheet metal of the trailer.

"God damnit," Ash groans, pushing back against the dashboard with shaky hands. "Simon."

Beside you, mohawk turns his cabin light on, leaning across his passenger seat to leer down at you with a wild grin. He waves like an old friend would, happy and bright, and you scream in frustration as the truck behind you creeps up too close.

The first side swipe is a test, you know it the moment he makes impact. The car jolts as if of its own accord, but comes back to heel easy enough: a spooked horse under a well-trained hand. You don't fight the sob that builds up within you despite the relative ease with which you handle it, however, knowing full well the Scot would run you off the road whenever he goddamn felt like it.

Ash knows it, too. "You're gonna have to pull off." She nods out her passenger window toward the vast expanse of flattened dirt and shaggy shrubs. Through your tears, it may as well be a field of pitch, or black ice.

"I'll spin out."

"You'll get pancaked if you stay," she counters and you nod, steeling yourself.

Only for the Scot on your left to pull the trigger for you and come slamming into the driver's side with enough force to send the car rolling off the road -.

A sharp jerk, a sudden thud. Your shoulder grates further into your body than you're certain your collar bone should allow. There is the all consuming shrieking of metal, but you hear it as if from below water. Next to you, Ash ragdolls in her seat, arm flying across and eclipsing your field of vision. There is a void, and then it is filled; a diaphragm contracting as everything rushes inward. Ash's arm is caught in the rush and with a sickening crack it is pulled backward into the orbit of your nose, pushed along by the swelling of a crisp white tide that grows to encase you from all sides. It crackles and whips, attempts to push Ash's arm clean through the back of your skull. There is a sound like percussive wood; a sharp, hollow tone but deep like mahogany and violent as a mallet. You're already screaming when you register that it is the sound of your cheek bone breaking.

With the pain comes clarity, and the world spins back into its proper speed. The beater comes to a stop teetering on its side, the combined weight of you and Ash, who had still been unbuckled, resting almost exclusively on the seat belt which cuts violently into your busted clavicle. Airbags deflate slowly, leave you panicking for breath before they collapse in pathetic limp forms which hang like ghosts from the passenger side of the car.

It takes you a moment to realize the reason you can't hear the creaking noise of the car still settling, or Ash's responses to your mumbled requests to know she's alive is because of the ringing in your ears. You panic at first - dully, as if in sympathy with a character from a movie -, thinking she'd surely been jostled around too much without her belt on, but to your immense relief, she wriggles above you just a moment later, trying to pry herself off of you by bracing her good arm on the wheel. Her voice sounds gurgly when she speaks, a low curse you can barely hear for the way your own ear seems to be screaming.

"Are you okay?" she mouths, tears and snot and blood dripping down her face. You feel the heat of bodily fluids on your neck and exposed arm, but don't know who they belong to.

"I think so," you grumble, despite knowing full well you are not. You pray your adrenaline doesn't crash any time soon, as you know the second it does you will be fully incapacitated. "My face," you croak, flinching away from your own fingers when you go to touch it.

Ash nods. You think she tells you not to touch it. She's blurry, out of focus. Your cheek throbs as if in explanation. "Arm's fucked."

"Can you move it?"

She shakes her head once, fully aborts it when she falls still, eyes staring out the sunroof. "We have to go."

"Go?" Even as you say it, you know she's right. That doesn't stop your whole body from shuddering at the thought. Still, you crane your head enough to peer out the window, breath coming short when you see Simon's truck stopped on the side of the road not thirty yards away. Further up, doe eyes and mohawk are climbing out of their own cabs, dome lights illuminating the dark fabric that covers their faces. "Are they -?"

"Where's your phone?"

You could slap yourself for being so stupid, if not for the fear of hurting yourself further. With Ash's weight off of you, you fumble around for the back pocket where you usually keep the device, only to draw cold when you don't feel it there. "I don't… have it. Where's yours?" Ash looks around herself dramatically as if inviting you to take a guess. "Well, it's gotta be around here somewhere."

Ash, who never keeps her phone in her pocket while in the car despite it being the safest option for reasons exactly like this, just scoffs as she nods toward the center console where it had been stashed. "Could've been thrown from the window for all I fucking know. Seriously, where's yours?"

"I told you, I don't -."

"Well where's the last place you -?"

Three blasts from a nearby air horn shut you both up immediately. It's loud as hell, cutting across the barren landscape with enough force you're surprised it doesn't knock the car back right side up. Scrambling, the two of you peer out the sunroof and watch as Simon's dome light extinguishes - no man within. Three silhouettes cut the shaft of headlights between Simon's truck and mohawk's. In the harsh light, the white designs of their masks glow ominously, seem to absorb the light and take it with them as they step out of the direct beam, pale expressions still contrasting the large dark forms of them as they pick their way across dirt and shrubs.

Above you, you feel Ash shift some more and nod along approvingly when she cranks her window down. It fights her, knocked from its track most like, but with a moment and a well-timed grunt of exertion, it gives and lowers. You fumble with your own seatbelt for a minute, groaning in pain and frustration when the belt looses and you fall against the driver's door with a rough thud, shoulder protesting violently enough to steal your breath.

"Can you move?" Ash asks, one foot on the side of your seat while the other balances precariously on the steering wheel. She's crouched enough so as not to stick her head out the window and you can't help but spare a thought for how smart that is, as you're certain these freaks have guns. You tell her through grit teeth that you think you're good, but when you try to straighten yourself up between her thighs, you yelp in pain and she grimaces sympathetically.

But not sympathetic enough, it seems.

"Where are you going?" you snap, watching in shock as she hoists herself out her window with her good arm. She takes a moment to stare down at you from where she perches precariously on the door, mumbling through tears about how very sorry she is, and how she only needs to outrun you. No sooner does she say this, however, than does the beam of a flashlight reveal her form to you in all its battered and bloody glory.

"Pup," Simon orders succinctly. When you look, you see mohawk take off sprinting in your direction, one mean-looking rod gripped tight in his fist.

Ash's curse covers your own. She's gone by the time you glance back to her, a quick thud from the bottom of the car and the shuffling of feet on dry dirt telling you she's jumped off. You scream for her to wait, to help you, to watch out, but she doesn't respond to any of it.

Meanwhile, mohawk closes in, course unchanged. You wriggle violently as he draws near, but he doesn't slow as he approaches, and you gasp in shock when he leaps up onto the passenger's door with no issue, solid body causing the car to rock and groan under him. You worry about the car flipping again, but mohawk doesn't give it a chance. With a cruel laugh, he follows Ash back over the other side and you hear her shriek in horror before a low thud and a wet sound leaves her sobbing breathlessly.

"Don't be greedy," doe eyes calls. You think maybe mohawk yells something back, but you're too busy scrambling out the sunroof to pay it much mind, Ash's horrible screams and sobs echoing around your skull.

"Ash?" you croak, pulling yourself one-armed out of the wreckage. Twisted metal and bent casing scrape your belly, dirt clinging to your tender skin. Your head throbs with every movement but you keep hauling yourself on, even when the flashlight cuts down to you, casting long, odd shadows across the dirt as it refracts through pebbles of shatter-proof glass. Frantically, you search your pockets for your phone again, but you're stopped with a scream when a boot presses down on your injured shoulder.

"Looking for this?" a familiar voice asks, dangling your own phone in front of you like a bit of bait. It's hard to think clearly, given your current predicament, but even still you cast back through the events of the night, trying to remember the last place you'd had it, how any of them could have ended up with it. You recall playing on it back at the store as you'd waited for the restroom, placing it on the sink as you'd rushed through your routine, and then -.

You remember how friendly doe eyes had been after he'd emerged from the restroom. Unbidden, your brain replays the cry he'd loosed when he'd entered, though it sounds distinctly more excited this time.

You try to reach for it, curse your own sluggishness when he yanks it away with a cruel laugh. Strong hands wrap around your upper arms, pulling you to your feet despite the yelp of pain you emit when your shoulder collapses too far inward.

"Not that one, Gaz," Simon rumbles, and the flashlight slips past you long enough you can focus on the face in front of you: wide, deep eyes framed in pretty, long lashes; set within the hollow of a skull balaclava.

Doe eyes - Gaz - frowns between you and the other man. "For cap?" When Simon doesn't respond, Gaz continues, "Or for you?"

"For us, provided you don't fuck it up." The thought sends a shiver through you, even if you don't quite fully understand the implication. You try to spit at him in protest, cringe at the taste of blood. Simon just stares back at you with those big dark eyes, black as pitch in the wan moonlight. With Ash's hellish screams still underscoring the scene, it's not hard to imagine you'd actually died in the crash - that this is your personal tartarus, these men your personal demons.

As if none the wiser to your internal struggle, Simon reaches out a gloved hand to stroke your swollen, achy cheek. The nylon may as well be fiberglass against your tender skin, and he tuts almost sympathetically when you flinch away. "Shouldn't have run, pet. Your friend would still be alive if you'd just come with me."

Guilt comes crashing over you when you realize you haven't been focusing on the sounds of Ash's struggles. She's still sobbing, the occasional dull thuds that rain on her evidently not quite enough to shut her up. You whimper and Simon zeros in on it, eyes predator-sharp, intense as his headlights in your rearview.

"How's it going over there, Johnny?" he calls, never once looking away from you.

One last sickening crunch stops Ash's shrieking, and you nearly throw up at the implication. "Nearly there, LT," Johnny calls back. His voice is unbearably cheery.

"What do you think, Betty," he rumbles at you, too low for the others to hear. "Not too boring for her now, is it?" When you don't respond beyond a loud gulp, he carries on unbothered, calling to Johnny, "Well, finish it up. We got company."

You make yourself woozy, the speed at which you whip your head around to see the new headlights reflecting in his dark eyes. Behind his truck, a small passenger van rolls to a stop and idles, the driver hanging his head out the window to ask if everything's alright.

Gaz's reflexes are faster than yours, his hand clamping over your mouth before you can try screaming for help. The resulting muffled gurgle isn't even enough to cover the last wet crunch of Johnny's kill, and you sob into the hand that covers your mouth, though that does you no good either.

"I'll deal with him," Simon murmurs, slipping off with far too much grace for a man his size. His heavy boots barely make a sound on the dry, caked dirt as he prowls back up toward the road, heavy mag light in his hand the only reliable indication of his whereabouts.

With the ring of light gone, Johnny feels emboldened enough to creep out from around the back of the car. A heavy scrape follows him, and it takes you a moment to realize it's Ash's slumped body being dragged along by the crow bar he's got lodged under her ribs but when you do, there's no stopping the sick that floods your mouth. Gaz pulls away with a disgusted snarl. You heave for breath, trying to find enough air within your lungs to call for help again. The notion is put to an end when Gaz kicks you in the belly and you retch up what's remained in your stomach.

"You scream for help, and I won't hesitate to slit your fucking throat," he hisses, thin slice of metal digging into your neck demonstratively. "Trust, it's not me who wants to keep you."

The reminder has you casting about for Simon again, spotting him coming around the driver's side of the van now. Some words are exchanged, the dome light of the van turning on when the driver begins to search his glove box. Simon waits patiently for him to sit back up in his seat before reaching through the open window and strangling him one-handed in a move so predictable it's almost comical. Or would be, if it all wasn't so very real.

Hot tears streak your face, nearly molten where they fall over your pained, swollen cheek. On either side of you, Gaz and Johnny laugh, mimicking the driver's pathetic attempts to dislodge the much larger man. You let their laughter wash over you for a moment, brain trudging through options while they're distracted. Running is almost certainly out of the option in your state, but fighting them off might be possible if you were properly armed.

It's difficult to not see Ash as you reach toward her, eyes taking in all the damage done. Your hand finds her mangled arm first, skin nearly squishy under your fingers with the bruises she'd no doubt incurred while trying to protect herself. You crawl closer, yank on the crow bar the second you feel it in your grasp. Her whole body rolls with it, but the weapon doesn't budge. Slipping your grasp down closer to where it penetrates her, you readjust your grip and ease it straight out, relieved when it slides from her with little more than a wet squelch. You peek back up at your attackers as you adjust your grip again, knowing full well you'll only get one good shot at this. It's hard to decide which of the two of them would make for the better target. Clearly, Johnny has proven himself as a vicious killer, but you doubt Gaz would be here if he weren't also capable. And something about the way he looks at you makes you think he's just waiting for a chance.

In the end, you don't think about it too much. Simply swing and hope for the best. A loud, definitively Scottish 'Och!' lets you know that you got Johnny, but you don't stay to see the outcome. Ignoring the protesting of your entire body, you heave yourself to your feet and take off running further into the open landscape. There's nowhere to hide, no hope on any horizon. It doesn't stop you from giving it your best shot.

You hear Gaz swear, the scuffle of his feet as he takes off after you. You don't register much else, your own heavy breaths covering all other sounds. A cluster of pain blooms behind your bad eye, vision whiting out on that side. You don't stop, winging the crowbar blindly behind yourself in hopes it cracks your pursuer on the temple. You only realize it didn't when he tackles you to the ground, long, firm limbs wrapped tight around your body as he rolls you into the dirt. You struggle, kick, bite, and spit. Gaz bodies it all with little more than a few huffy grunts. He punches you heavily on your bad shoulder, but only earns himself a renewed vigor to the bucks you use to try dislodging him. He's heavier than he looks, though - all wiry muscle. He doesn't budge, instead grabbing you by either side of your head and slamming his own down hard onto the bridge of your nose.

There's more commotion after that, though you don't really register it. For the second time that night, the voices around you grow dull and undefined through the ringing of your ears. Light cuts through your head like a knife a few times, but everytime you flinch away, it follows you cruelly until you whimper in pain. Eventually, the ground lurches away from you, and then you're floating, head lolling woozily. Your brain trips in and out of urgency, misfiring like a bad engine. You note the strong, dangerous arms that keep you trapped against a sturdy chest with alarm, but the next second your panic leaves you tired and worn out as your eye focuses on the packed earth beneath heavy boots. A small, scuttling scorpion rushes past and you shudder closer to the warmth that's ensnared you, unthinking.

"That's right, pet. Just relax and it'll all go much better for you."

It's Simon, you're sure of it. Alarm works through your system like old, clotted oil: sticky, dangerous. Despite everything, he scares you the least at the moment, and you let yourself sink into his hold for a moment.

And then the squeal of a metal hinge has you jolting back to reality, clinging to Simon's shirt even as he tosses you unceremoniously up onto the cold, worn floor of a shipping container. You scramble, but Johnny follows you up, crowding you past wrapped pallets of bulk items until you reach the corrugated back end. He coos at you all the while despite the limp you've left him with, lilted nonsense that rings in your ears as it bounces off the metal siding. Desperate, you move to lunge past him, but he slams you back with a thick hand on your chest.

"Easy, hen," he soothes, "not gonnae hurt yae." You know better, fears proven when he leans past you to push at a panel in the siding, seam so flush it's barely visible even in the harsh light of the torch. Behind it, the threat of a small barren crawlspace keeps you distracted while Gaz approaches wielding zip ties. Soap collects both your hands in his own, your attempts to dislodge him almost laughable. The ties bite into the skin of your wrists and ankles, Gaz looking particularly proud of himself. You lunge, trying to bite him, but he just pushes you back against the siding with a firm palm to your forehead and a dark laugh. He holds you in place there, makes you look as he dangles a bloody scrap of fabric in front of you. He waits until you recognize it as Ash's shirt before shoving it into your mouth, holding his palm there while you struggle not to be sick again. He looks almost disappointed when you succeed. Duct tape holds the gag in place, pulled tight enough to cut into the swelling of your cheek. It hurts, and there's no stopping the tears that flow freely down your face, blending and soaking into Ash's tank. Breathing comes hard, nose so swollen you can't rely on it. Instead, you work hard to pull each inhale through tape and wet fabric, every breath tainted with metal and salt.

They don't give you a moment to recover, manhandling you through the port until you're sprawled, face up, in the tiny space behind the false back of the trailer. You try screaming, nearly pass out when you can't get enough air in your lungs. The grating of the metal as the push the panel back into place feels sharp enough to puncture your eardrums, but the stillness that follows when they're done and retreated is even worse. It's hard to hear over your own panting breaths, but then a moment lapses, another. You imagine they're talking, planning. You think this is the most frightened you've ever been in your life, even with everything else that's happened tonight - and then the mag light cuts out, the illuminated seam of the panel door blinking out with it, and the squeal of metal hinges tells you they've locked you in and you know it gets much worse than this.

next>>

#dark fic #dead dove fic #141 x you #141 x reader #haul #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #Kyle garrick x you #john mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #john price x reader #john price x you #💷🔪

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dovveri · 30 days

Text

strangers

synopsis: trainee life is a lot tougher than you thought, but with three other trainees you met along the way, you have a little more hope that it’ll all be worth it in the end.

warnings: bad eating habits, mentions of vomiting and self-induced vomiting, swearing, suggestive, TOE-SUCKING, alcohol and parties, lots of feelings and trainee life angst

w/c: 19.2k !!!!! why is this like half of my entire bachelorette series jeezus

a/n: requested!! i actually dont fill reqs this quick but i had the idea alr and i lwk love writing poly i just think its so much messier and more confusing and FUN so writing this came a lot easier than writing other reqs do. also u lwk only have to read half of this and be happy yippee happily ever after OR u can potentially hurt urself and enjoy the angst but idk it’s not THAT bad so 🤗

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

“y/n?”

you blink, tilting your head up from your hiding spot under the table in the recording studio. it’s nayeon, one of the korean trainees. you hurriedly wipe your eyes on your sleeve, stumbling upwards and almost knocking your head on the bottom of the table.

“s-sorry. were you using this room? i’ll get out now-“

“no no! it’s okay i was just going to get some practice in and i saw you. are you… are you okay?” you appreciate her speaking slower for you, your grasp of korean still wasn’t the best.

“y-yeah i’m fine. i’ll just- leave you to it- sorry again-“

“are you sure? today’s actually my day off so i don’t have to be doing anything. i’m happy to just listen if you want…?”

you gulp, avoiding her gaze, nayeon was one of the trainees that everyone knew would most likely make it. you didn’t see much of her because she was always off on side jobs filming as a background dancer for music videos, booking small modelling gigs, and she was generally in more advanced classes than yours and was even set to debut in a group with a few others before the idea was scrapped. she was steadily making a name for herself even before the public knew her, something you couldn’t help but be envious of. but here she was, offering to listen to you of all people.

“i- um-“

“it’s okay. you can take your time.” she smiles sweetly, “i tried to take a few english classes but it’s a lot more difficult than i thought it’d be. so i can understand how hard it must be to come to a different country and learn a whole new language.”

“t-thank you. i was just um- i was actually just thinking about calling home and… and quitting.”

she nods, eyes filled with empathy, waiting for you to continue.

“i just- don’t think i can make it. there’s so many talented people here and this has always been my dream but i’m just not good enough and i don’t even- it doesn’t even make sense for me to be here when i could be back home getting an education or i don’t know- doing something with my life.”

“you don’t think what you’re doing now is something?”

you sigh, gripping your arm firmly, "it- it is but i don't know if it's all going to work out in the end."

"and you think going back home and going to school will guarantee things working out for you?"

"well- i- no, not for certain but-"

"so isn't the only difference that you actually want to do this? you don't want to end up working an office job for the rest of your life right?"

"but- like i'm more likely to get an office job than i am to debut-"

"i'm sure the office jobs will wait for you. idol life won't. if you don't make it, then the office job will always be there right? it's up to you though, i'm not trying to convince you to stay or leave, i just think it's a shame when you have a real chance at getting what you've dreamt of your whole life. you were scouted weren't you? did you know i auditioned to get in? and i had to hide it from my family because they didn't think this was a realistic job prospect, not when i was still in high school. so if you think you don't belong here, just remember you beat out other auditionees to get your spot as a trainee here, so you were good enough for that." she smiles brightly, her two protruding front teeth proudly on display, giving her the adorable likeability to a rabbit.

her words bring you back from the edge of panic, you've always looked at her through a lens of jealousy, wishing you had as much natural talent and star power as she did, but right now, you could see she was so much more than that, and you respected her for it, admired her for it.

"thank you nayeon." you finally meet the older girl's eyes, and her smile grows even brighter.

"of course. do you have any training schedules to get to right now? or do you want to stay here and practice some vocal chords with me?"

"would that be okay?" your eyes widen at her offer.

"yes! don't be silly y/n i know we're all meant to be competing or whatever but we're most likely going to debut in a group right? we can't just be out for each other's throats all the time."

you smile, finding her attitude refreshing, most of the trainees you had met were exactly like that, and you felt even more isolated when it was obvious they made no effort to get to know you because of the language barrier, to them, it was just another advantage they had over you.

"c'mon. let's see what you got."

your motivation reinvigorated, you spend the rest of the afternoon cooped up in the recording studio with nayeon, practicing together but also joking around and laughing, being the kids you were in an industry that stripped you of that freedom.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"これの読み方を知っていますか?"

"いいえ、私は愚かです."

you shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, unable to shake the insecurity that they were talking about you. you were currently in your intensive korean class, waiting for the teacher to appear. the class was mostly quiet, except for the two girls sitting a table away from you, whispering and laughing, pushing each other around playfully.

when you glance towards them again, one of them meets your eye. you panic, whipping your head back down to your open textbook.

the girl who saw you whispers something to her seatmate, nodding towards you, bringing the other girl's attention to you as well.

you strain to see what they're doing in your peripheral vision, but the little giggles and whispers have you shrinking in even more on yourself, thinking they were making fun of you for whatever reason.

you don't notice when the one who spotted you first is suddenly standing next to you. she waits for you to acknowledge her, but when you don't she giggles again, leaning down and tilting her head so you had to look at her.

"hi. my name sana. you?"

"y-y/n."

"y/n? nice to meet you! that momo." she steps back a little and points at the other girl who waves shyly at you. you stare back at her, dumbfounded, reciprocating her wave.

"you... korean good?"

you blink, unsure of what to say, "umm... it's okay i guess."

sana grins, all teeth, almost blinding you, running back to her seat and picking up her textbook, skipping back towards you and plopping down in the empty seat next to you. she points at the page, "how to do?"

you look down to the question she has circled, it was part of the homework set from the last lesson. you flick back to that page in your own textbook, showing her and trying to explain with gestures what it was asking.

when it clicks, that blinding smile graces her features again, her eyes lighting up and quickly scribbling down the answer. then she turns to momo who seemed to be doodling little drawings all over her workbook instead of studying.

"モモリ馬鹿野郎 ! これがあなたのやり方です."

you shrink back into your seat, thinking she was done with you, only needing you to help her with her homework, and now that she was done, she could go back to making fun of you.

but instead, momo looks over curiously, standing up and hovering over the two of you. sana starts talking in rapid japanese, her hands flailing around excitedly.

momo nods along, and then she seems to get a moment of realisation, her eyebrows raising and mouth opening in the shape of an o, an "ahh!" escaping her.

sana looks back to you, "thank you! you so smart!"

you still don't really follow their conversation but you nod, shyly rubbing the back of your neck, "it's okay."

"we sit here?"

"sorry?"

sana frowns, an adorable pout forming on her lips, thinking over how to say what she wants. then she grabs momo's hand, gesturing between the both of them, "friends!", then she grabs your hand, gesturing between the three of you now, "friends?"

your hand is sweaty against sana's, you take note of how soft it feels against yours, heart stumbling a little over itself. you nod sheepishly, not expecting sana to grin, pulling you into a hug immediately.

momo goes to grab her things, and then settles into the seat on your other side, "sorry for her. she very huggy."

sana pouts, flicking momo's forehead playfully after she pulls away from you, "you like it too."

momo giggles, rolling her eyes.

things were moving so fast your brain was playing catch up. you knew the people here were a lot more affectionate than back home, but you still felt your heart racing from being in such close proximity with sana, and now momo too, the both of them squeezed against you and conversing lightly in broken korean and japanese while waiting for the teacher. it wasn't unwelcome though, this was the first time someone had asked you in such a straightforward way to become friends, it was refreshing, definitely better than the trainees in your vocal and dance classes who refused to interact with you at all.

when the teacher finally comes, he looks a little surprised at the change in seating, but doesn't comment on it, diving straight into the lesson.

sana and momo both try their best to keep up, sana remains fully engaged in the lesson, asking plenty of questions, while momo is the opposite. she's easily distracted, when the teacher goes on one of his off topic rants, she starts doodling in her textbook again, you repress a laugh at the stick men she drew frolicking around in fields with rainbows and stars. you can't help yourself but bring your pen to her page, adding a little deranged dog to her drawing.

she looks at you in surprise, but lets you finish, giggling at the result and drawing in some fur for the dog, fixing up your sorry attempt at a puppy.

the class finishes uneventfully after that. momo yawns, closing her book with relief while sana stretches, standing up and grinning down at the both of you.

momo looks at her warily, squinting, "what?"

"what?"

"you have not good look on your face. what you do?"

"what do you mean momoring?" sana's grin only grows wider.

"i don't want to get in trouble again."

"you woooon't. what you think y/n? want to sneak out get fried chicken and beer?"

momo groans, slumping down on her desk, muttering to herself in japanese while sana laughs at her reaction.

you look between the both of them, raising an eyebrow. you knew you shouldn't, but you hadn't had real food in so long, the company's strict diet and weight requirements always on all of your minds. and you hadn't really gone out and explored korea since you arrived. you'd pretty much been confined to the dorms and the company building, eating cafeteria food and living the same routine everyday, you knew the korean trainees would often get together after late night practices and have small gatherings the company wouldn't know about, but you were never invited to those.

you grin cheekily, "you have a plan?"

sana laughs, pulling you up to stand, hugging you once again in glee, "yay!! i knew we good friends! of course, it's not the first time momoring and i have snuck out." she pulls away with a wink.

momo grumbles behind you, slowly standing up as well, "last time you got us caught you said we were helping 'clean the streets'. stupid. we had extra exercise requirements for two weeks."

"we won't get caught this time! i promise! and if we do i pay for all our food."

momo perks up at that, eyeing sana, then holding out her pinky.

sana giggles, linking their pinkies and then dragging momo by their pinkies, and you by your hand out of the classroom and back towards the dorms to get ready.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"sana- move!" momo grunts, shuffling around in clothes too big for her, a cap that dipped over her eyes, and a mask to hide her face.

"shh! you're gonna get us caught!"

"no you are!"

"okay they're gone let's go." sana slinks forward in similar attire, careful to avoid the security cameras, flapping a sleeve behind her frantically to gesture the both of you to follow. momo glances at you, rolling her eyes but smiling, tiptoeing forward and following sana.

you're body is surging with adrenaline. you had always been a 'good' kid. you've never tried sneaking out of anywhere before. you were also trying to hold in your laughter at how stupid the three of you must look, the sunglasses covering your eyes while indoors and at 9pm at night glazing your vision.

you make it halfway across the main entrance, almost to the exit, hands shoved in your pockets.

"... y/n?"

you pause, heart pounding. the two in front of you stop as well, sana looks back at you in alarm.

you decide the best course of action is to pretend you didn't hear them. after all, they couldn't be sure you were yourself right now right? the absurd disguises made sure of that. you take another step forward.

"y/n what are you wearing? you look like vector from despicable me."

curse sana for lending you that naruto cosplay. you forgot how visible your disguise was.

you turn on your heel slowly, terribly embarrassed to have been discovered like this, mind scrambling to come up with an excuse for what the three of you were doing.

but you're stopped in your tracks when you realise who was teasing you with a wide grin, two front teeth on display. she laughs when she finally sees you, it's loud and bright, it'd scare you away if you hadn't already heard it plenty of times from her when she had found you in the practice room that day.

"you look so stupid. wait-" she whips out her phone, and before you can protest, she snaps a quick picture, laughing at her phone after checking the result.

"nayeonn!"

"i can't believe you tried to sneak out wearing that."

you pout, crossing your arms protectively over yourself, "i wasn't trying to sneak out!"

she raises an eyebrow, "yeah and i'm not gorgeous." she jokes sarcastically, before peeking over your shoulder and nodding behind you, "and who are those two losers behind you?"

you turn, taking off your ridiculous sunglasses and waving to let them know you were fine and to join you. sana tilts her head curiously, moving back towards you, tugging along momo who takes off her cap, blowing her hair out of her face.

"oh! you're the japanese duo that came here on the same day! i'm sorry i don't remember your names but i saw you dance and you were incredible." she directs the last part at momo, who blushes at the compliment, nodding and hiding behind her hair. sana grins though, bowing down and bringing momo down with her.

"i'm sana! this is momo!"

"nayeon. it's nice to meet you both." nayeon smiles sweetly, bowing as well and gesturing for them to stand up. "where were you guys headed?"

"chicken and beer! you want to come?" sana quips happily, excited to meet anyone new.

"how were you guys going to get beer?" nayeon jokes with a smirk.

sana tilts her head confusedly, she looks adorable in the clothes that drown her.

"you're all underage right?"

sana looks to you in confusion, not seeming to understand what underage meant.

"ah- none of us are 18..." you gesture to the three of you.

sana makes a sound of exclamation, not having thought about that particular detail.

nayeon laughs brightly, finding the japanese girl's antiques endearing. "good thing you have me then! c'mon. i know the best place as well, and no one from the company will go around there so we won't get caught." she winks, pulling a mask and cap out of her jacket pocket and slipping it on.

you blink, surprised at the change in events.

nayeon shrugs, "always gotta be ready if we're training to be idols right?" you can see the smirk in her eyes, before she charges forward without an answer and leads the four of you into the night.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

your shoulder hurt.

there's another bout of laughter, you flinch, preparing yourself.

sure enough, nayeon's large hands come clapping down on your arm, you wince, trying to smile your way through the sting of each slap.

it doesn't help when sana realises why you look constipated, cracking up even more pointing at you with a hand over her mouth, which makes nayeon laugh again for absolutely no other reason than that you were all wasted.

"nayeonnie calm down- you're going to kill y/n-" sana chokes out between giggles.

nayeon blinks, looking at you, face brightly flushed. she pouts, leaning in close, "what did i do?"

you flush even brighter, blaming the alcohol and not the way nayeon's eyes are glued to your lips, squinting and trying to focus on one part of your face only with her wobbly vision. you push her off of you gently, rubbing at your shoulder with a grimace, "you hit people when you're drunk.""

nayeon coos, chasing after you, "awwwwwh did i hurt you? poor baby. here lemme kiss it better." nayeon purses her lips together, pushing her face towards you while you whine and laugh, trying to push her away.

sana pipes up at the word, "kiss? who are we kissing? i wanna kiss!"

momo snorts, playing around with the bottle cap of the soju you had gotten to after you had all decided the beer wasn't enough. her face is probably the most flushed of you all, but she was also probably the most sane of you all currently. "don't you kiss enough?"

sana whines, poking momo's cheek, "no! you don't let me! c'mere-" she leans forward, tickling momo's sides, trying to get her to let her defenses down and land one on her. momo laughs, pushing sana off, scrambling away in urgency.

you aren't faring much better, but then you get an idea, "sanaaa! kiss nayeon! she's trying to get me!"

sana turns to you both, and she's never one to turn down a kiss so she leans across the table, yanking nayeon's head towards her and pulling her away from you. but what surprises you is when she plants a sloppy kiss right on the eldest's lips.

you look at momo, expecting to see a similar look reflected, but she rolls her eyes, calmly picking up the bottle and bringing it to her lips again to take a sip.

they break away with a smack, exaggerated on sana's end who giggles and licks her lips, grabbing the bottle from momo and taking a sip as well.

nayeon blinks, her brain seeming to catch up with her body 2 seconds late. when she realises what happens, she stands up abruptly with a screech, her metal chair scraping against the floor in pain. you wince at the sound, but laugh when you catch her face, now brighter than momo's, hand over her mouth in shock. sana and momo easily join you, cackling as nayeon flails around, sounds coming out of her mouth in incoherent phrases.

it seems the shop owner has had enough of the four of you though.

"yah! out! all of you! bedtime! 2am now! go go!" you all continue laughing as you're ushered out of your seats. you're all too drunk to notice the way the shop owner has fondly been watching you for the last few hours, cleaning around and keeping her shop open later than she normally opens, recalling the days she was young and stupid as well. she shouts at you while she pushes you out the door, but she also shoves a plastic bag of takeaway chicken into your hands as she pushes you out, telling you all to go home and not to cause too much trouble at this time of night.

you all laugh and thank her, sana even goes to kiss her cheek, cooing at how adorable she was in her apron and wrinkles.

when you've finally calmed down and take in the chill air of the night sky, you shiver a little, the alcohol sloshing around in your body not enough to keep you warm.

momo sidles up next to you, linking your hands together easily and pulling you against her.

you grin at her, tightening your grip around her hand that she's shoved into the warm pocket of her jacket pocket.

the peace is quickly disrupted when nayeon sends a stumbled kick your way from behind you. she misses though, tripping over herself and almost falling face-flat onto the ground save for sana hooking onto her waist quickly, pulling her back up with a laugh.

nayeon wraps an arm around sana's shoulder, thanking her for the support. "yah. you two. kiss. i can't be the only one who had to kiss someone today."

sana pouts, "why do you say that like you didn't like it?"

nayeon sputters, squinting up at sana from her slouched position, her weight almost entirely leaning on sana, "no i didn't- i didn't mean it like- no but- ugh-"

sana giggles, shuffling around so she can accommodate nayeon better.

momo turns her head, "no way loser. you two only kissed because you're both so kissy."

"what does that even mean?!"

"sana kisses everyone when she's drunk. and you're just as bad nayeon. i don't know how you can go drinking with just one person. you need at least 2 or 3 to hold you up when you get drunk." momo teases, sticking out her tongue.

"respect your elders you little shit!"

you all laugh at that, nayeon may have gotten you all drinks but she wasn't that much older than you. and she looks hilarious bringing a fist up in the air and waving it around like a little angry old lady, too much spite in too little a body, it was cute.

"wait... so the only one i haven't kissed yet is y/n?"

you freeze, ready to make a run for it at the earliest sign of danger.

nayeon grins, pushing sana off of her and towards you, "let's change that!"

your eyes widen, legs tensing up, ready to rush forward, you pull your intertwined hands out of momo's pocket. but right as you're about to take off, momo smirks, yanking you backwards and spinning you around until you're met with the soft, ready lips sana has wating for you.

"mmf-!"

your eyes are squeezed shut when momo spun you, terrified of falling onto your face, but now all you can feel is her hand still holding yours, sana's coming up to steady your hips, her lips pressing against yours gently.

all too quickly, she breaks away with a giggle, licking her lips again. it must be a habit.

you stare at her dumbly, mouth hanging open, lips tingling with the faint taste of strawberry soju.

nayeon has ended up on the floor without anyone supporting her, cackling loudly and pointing at your dumbfounded look.

momo stifles a few chuckles as well, her hand still wrapped tightly around yours.

sana simply smiles, closing your mouth with her hand, brushing a thumb over your jaw in the process, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

you flush up immediately, whipping around and staring at the floor, the tips of your ears bright red.

sana laughs, cooing, "awwwwh! you're so cute! look at her guys! she's blushing!"

"no!" you speak up indignantly, voice squeaky, "i'm just drunk!"

"you're more red than me!" momo joins in, trying to get a look at your face better with a laugh, her nose scrunching up in glee.

you whine, trying to pull away from her, but she doesn't let your hand go, so you end up pulling her along with you as you stomp forward, eager to get home and away from your teasing new friends.

sana laughs, running after you both.

that left nayeon, still on the floor in the middle of the street at 3am. "guys! hey guys! don't forget me! come back! hey- wait!"

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the four of you grow easily close after that night. and it helps that by chance, you're all allocated into the same dorm room for the new year. it's definitely a surprise since nayeon was one of the company's top trainees, and the rest of you were foreigners and had only been around for about 2 months. you'd heard it was meant to help the three of you get better at korean, having to converse in korean daily with a korean roommate so that existing friends like sana and momo couldn't get away with just talking in japanese when they were in the comfort of their dorms. plus, it seemed both sana and momo were making a name for themselves amongst the trainees as well for their bubbly idol personality and raw talent respectively.

"how's this?" nayeon comes out of the bathroom and does a little twirl, her hair already curled and makeup applied dazzlingly. she's wearing a pretty silk white dress with little blue bows decorating it, matching the blue ribbons she's used in her hair.

sana squeals, immediately bounding upwards and poking at her. "it's so cute! when did you get this?!"

"the last family trip i went on! are you sure it's okay?" nayeon pouts.

but then momo yells out from behind her, still doing her eyeliner in your shared bathroom mirror, "you look fine stop digging for compliments."

sana laughs cheerily when nayeon sputters back at her, latching onto the older girl and pecking her cheek, "it's okay nayeonnie i don't mind. i'll praise you anytime you want." there's a slight lilt to her voice, she finishes with a wink.

nayeon blushes immediately, but tries to cover for it by turning to you. "y/n? what do you think?"

you roll your eyes from your spot on sana's bed, more focused on applying the dark blue nail polish on your hands. "it's pretty."

"just pretty?" you can hear the pout in her voice.

you sigh exasperatedly, looking up at her in mock annoyance. "you're gorgeous, beautiful, stunning, exquisite, glamorous, everyone at the party will have their eyes on you."

you can hear momo fake gag from the bathroom, and sana bursting into giggles. but nayeon crosses her arms, frowning, "you see when you list it out like that it makes it a little harder to believe."

"ugh nayeon! you look good! what more do you want from me!"

she laughs, leaning down to squish your cheeks together affectionately, "thanks darling, i love my little thesaurus."

you grumble, careful not to get the drying nail polish onto sana's sheets. sana comes back to her position next to you, grabbing your hands and starting to blow on your fingers.

"what time does the party start again?" momo yells out from the bathroom, slipping into her outfit for the night.

"like... 10 minutes ago but it's fine. no one interesting is gonna get there on time." nayeon squeezes in next to you as well, leaning her head on your shoulder.

"that's because you're only interested in yourself."

"hey! i can revoke my invite to all of you!"

"you wanted us to go because you'd be, quote, bored out of your mind with all those mindless prepubescent boys trying to get in your pants! besides, we all got our own invites anyway."

"what?! why didn't you tell me?!"

"you were so cute thinking you were doing us all a solid or something for inviting us." sana speaks up with a giggle, "we couldn't break that!"

"you couldn't sana! i wanted to tell her and shove it up her proud ass but you just love to watch cute girls fumble around don't you?"

sana giggles again, going back to blowing on your nails.

but then momo steps out of the bathroom, clad in a very short bodycon dress, her makeup and hair fully done, the dress cutting open at her midriff showing off toned abs, pretty gold necklace decorating her neck, outlining her collarbones and the plunging neckline that pretty much ended at her belly button, tying together the cutout.

the three of you all stare at her, eyes roaming over the mass of skin, mouths open in... shock.

sana licks her lips slowly, eyes not bothering to meet her best friend's again, "you look... good."

momo smirks, imitating what's meant to be nayeon, "just good?"

nayeon bristles then, snapping out of her stupor, "shut up momo. don't you think you're... showing a bit too much skin?"

momo starts looking around for her shoes, bending over criminally with her back to you all, it's almost comedic how all three of your gazes lock onto her ass immediately. "this is nothing compared to some of the outfits they put us in when we do our showcases. besides, it's not like you can talk." she snorts, turning back around with heels in hand, her smirk never leaving her face as she watches the three of you, knowing exactly what you were doing.

"yeah but you'll... get cold."

"it's an indoor party."

"shut up!"

she laughs, standing back up after slipping into her shoes, "okay! ready to go?"

you gulp, standing up shakily, forcing you to look at her face and not ogle your friend's very attractive body. "y-yeah. took you all long enough."

"you finished practice earlier than us, you had more time to get ready. now let's go losers."

she leads the charge out your tiny shared room, nayeon gets up and follows grumpily. you look back down to sana who's still got her gaze locked on the way both girls' hips sway with each step. you roll your eyes, poking sana and dragging her up with a laugh. sana lets you, her brain short-circuiting, only able to be tugged along.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you honestly had no idea how a party of this scale went unnoticed by the company. there were so many trainees you recognised, and even a few idols that were lesser known to the public. it was at someone's house, you don't remember who's, but there was no way you could've gotten away with a party this size back at the dorms.

music was blasting, drinks were being circulated, people were dancing and grinding up against each other. it wasn't a surprise to see the amount of rowdiness going on, that's what happened when you force a bunch of teenagers to undergo strict training and diet regimes, and forbid anything that could get anyone into any sorts of controversies in the future in case you made it and got famous.

the four of you had naturally split up when you arrived, being pulled away by different friends and people wanting to greet you. you spot momo on the dance floor already, not that it was difficult to seperate her from everyone else. sure you were all trainees and went through mandatory dance class, but everyone knew momo was something else when it came to dance. she had an aura about her, one that made people back up and give her space, circling her on the crowded floor and watching in awe of her moves.

you can hear nayeon before you spot her. she's with jihyo and jeongyeon, two other trainees that she was set to debut with, and granted, was naturally close with. they were all top-notch trainees at the company, everyone knew of them, knew that the next group coming out of jyp would most likely include the three of them.

that left sana, someone people naturally gravitated towards. her adorable happy-go-lucky energy was infectious, it was impossible not to fall in love with her at first sight. she was currently surrounded by a crowd of people, laughing and smiling, face tinged with the pink of alcohol.

eventually, someone gets people together for a game of spin the bottle. you're all sitting in a big circle in a room away from the rest of the party, chattering excitedly with the buzz of liquors, an empty soju bottle laying in the middle of you all.

"okay party people! game time!" the original host of the party, jackson wang, saunters in with a charming grin, plopping himself down between mark and jeongyeon. "so i'm gonna assume we all know how spin the bottle works. and if you don't... well you'll find out! who wants to go first!"

everyone looks around at everyone, antsy, unwilling to go first. jackson rolls his eyes, "alright losers. guess it's me." he bends forward and spins the bottle. everyone watches with anticipation, breaths held.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, ryujin. she makes a face of disgust, cringing, but jackson ignores it, quickly swooping in and kissing her.

when they break away, ryujin quickly downs her cup of whatever concoction of alcohol she has, wiping at her lips and pushing him off of her playfully. jackson laughs, backing away and returning to his seat. ryujin goes forward, places her fingers on the bottle, then spins it.

again, you all wait in anticipation, eyes locked on the dizzying movement, until it slowly lands on bambam.

ryujin groans again, bambam looks like he just won the lottery. "nope! i'm not kissing one of you gross guys again, jackson tasted like he doesn't know what a toothbrush is. gimme a dare."

there are shouts of disapproval, but ryujin ignores them all, sitting on her haunches, unmoving.

"okay just because you made that totally untrue comment about my breath, i'll give you one worse than kissing bam." jackson looks around the room, thinking to himself, mark whispers something in his ear and they both snicker, "alright. suck someone's toes for 10 seconds."

"pfft is that meant to be a dare?" ryujin easily leans forward, pulling yeji's sock off and immediately wrapping her lips around her toe. yeji squeals, trying to pull her foot away but ryujin is persistent amongst everyone's hollering and cheering, counting down the seconds.

she finally breaks away with a laugh, making a show of licking her lips while yeji blushes, yelling at her and slapping her arm, shoving her drink into her hand and making her rinse out her mouth.

bambam shyly goes forward next, he spins the bottle, and it lands on nayeon. his eyebrows almost get lost in his hairline with how far up they go, his head shooting up and looking at nayeon who was leaning on jihyo heavily, still laughing at the whole ryujin-yeji situation.

his boys clap him on the back with a cheer, pushing him forward towards the older girl. nayeon blinks, turning her attention to him, realising he had spun her.

her eyes meet yours for a second, and then they flit around the room, landing on sana and momo respectively, it's so quick you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't already locked on her gaze.

bambam moves forward shyly, kneeling in front of her, unsure of what to do. she leans back a little as he comes closer, putting on an encouraging smile, looking up at him.

he takes a breath, then dives down, you can hear their teeth clacking as he accidentally goes in too aggressively, nayeon cringes, but tries to make up for it by tilting her head, pressing her lips against his, trying to urge him to slow down, but bambam moves almost too eagerly, like he's eating her up. in the end, nayeon has to gently push him off of her to get him to stop, he looks dazed as he collapses back in his spot, bright blush on his face all the way down to his neck. nayeon tries to look polite and laughs it off, moving forward and quickly spinning the bottle to move everyone along.

only for it land on momo.

"oh hell no." they both say simultaneously, blushing furiously and gaping at each other from across the circle. you catch sana's eye, supressing a laugh as you look between the two of them.

"dare! i pick dare!"

sana perks up, taking the opportunity immediately, "okay i dare you to kiss momo!"

the boys around the circle all laugh, agreeing with her energetically, starting up a chant. momo sends a death glare towards sana, who just sticks out her tongue at her, making an exaggerated kissy face mimicking momo and nayeon kissing.

with no choice, nayeon shuffles forward, crouching down in front of momo who can't look her in the eye.

"don't fall in love with me or anything hirai."

that gets momo to snort, meeting nayeon's equally nervous gaze, "as if i'll be able to think about anything other than getting rid of the taste of you-" she's cut off, nayeon leaning down to plant her lips on her in haste.

momo blinks at first in confusion, then she's closing her eyes and circling a hand around nayeon's neck, pulling her in just a little closer and returning the kiss. they ignore the roar of the crowd, nayeon thinks to herself how much better momo's lips felt against her own than bambam's teeth did.

that thought quickly rips her away though, scrambling backwards and wiping at her lips in mock disgust, laughing breathily with a pretty blush adorning her face.

momo looks on after her, her expression unreadable. after things settle down again, momo leans forward, spinning the bottle.

sana doesn't even give anyone the chance to think, sliding forward and into momo's lap, cupping her cheek and bringing their lips together. momo reacts automatically, hands circling sana's hips and slotting them together, like they've done this countless times in the past.

watching nayeon and momo kiss was silly, fun, but this, this was something different. you glance at nayeon, who has a hand at her lips, staring at sana and momo make out in front of everyone, eyebrows furrowed slightly. you look back, swearing you can see the hint of a pink tongue poke out from sana, momo's hands tightening around the other girl's hips in reaction, before sana finally breaks away. she stands up, sauntering back to her spot with a proud grin, people are cheering, throwing confetti, bowing down to her as if she just brought rain down in a drought. she thrives in the attention. momo on the other hand is breathing heavily, expression shielded behind her hair, biting her lip and clenching her thighs together.

sana does a round around the inside of the circle, giggling and skipping along in her little pink slip. she finally arrives back to her original spot, bending down and spinning the bottle.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, dahyun. sana smiles sweetly, crawling forward. she whispers a few words to dahyun, who nods shyly, breath picking up, then sana leans in, just pecking her before pulling away again. nothing like the kiss she shared with momo.

you decide you need a drink.

at this point in the night, the kitchen is thankfully much less chaotic. most people are playing the game, on the dance floor, or passed out around the house.

you spoon a ladle of the jungle juice that probably has ludicrous amounts of liquor in it into your cup, gulping it down thirstily. you don't know why you suddenly felt so stifled in that room, feeling hot even in the little cropped top and skirt you're wearing.

"y/n?"

you turn, of course it's your three roommates, all looking very concerned for you.

"hey. you okay?" sana comes up to you first, cupping your cheeks, placing the back of her hand on the front of your forehead.

you wave her off with a chuckle, "yeah i'm fine guys. why did you leave the game?"

"because you left." momo says simply, taking the cup you're still holding in your hand away from you, sniffing the contents.

"you didn't have to do that. i was just taking a water break."

"riiiight. water." momo raises an eyebrow unimpressively, pouring the rest of your drink down the sink nearby.

"i'm fine though seriously! you guys should get back to the game."

"you're not coming?" sana pouts.

"not really feeling it anymore."

"do you wanna go home?" nayeon speaks up then, coming forward to lean on sana's back, her face resting on sana's shoulder, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"what? no! you guys have fun. seriously, stop worrying about me i'm fine!"

"we can't have fun without you."

"i'm sure you can."

"no. we're not the four of us without you. we're just... the three of us." sana tilts her head like a confused puppy, her proximity to you making you dizzy, you're not sure if it's the alcohol, or the fact that she was so close, but you can only focus on her lips, which then remind you of the way her lips had been on momo's lips, that had been on nayeon's lips. yeah you were definitely a little more than dizzy.

"wooahh- too much to drink i think." momo sidles up next to you, catching your waist, and holding you up against her. she jokes, "didn't think you'd be the same kinda drunk as nayeon y/n. i don't know if we have enough personnel to take care of the both of you."

you groan, pushing yourself back onto your own two feet, leaning back against the kitchen bench, "don't compare me to that trainwreck."

"hey!"

you all laugh, sana's hands coming down to squeeze nayeon's that are around her waist, turning to peck her cheek.

"i'm getting tired anyway. let's go home."

"what? guys no- you don't have to do this for me- you can stay-"

"we're not doing this for you idiot. i wanna sleep too. i'm gonna be grumpy tomorrow morning if we don't get enough sleep and i have dance practice with jyp."

"you're always grumpy in the mornings momoring."

"no i'm not!"

"yes you are." nayeon quips.

"shut up or i'll kiss you again im."

that makes everyone pause, processing the words in their head. momo doesn't even seem to realise what she's said, staring fiercely back at nayeon, only focused on winning their little bouts of banter.

you all stand in the kitchen in awkward silence, looking nervously at each other, unsure of what to say.

eventually sana speaks up, laughing edgily. "are y/n and i interrupting something orr...?"

"what?! no?!" they both speak up, protesting loudly.

you laugh, trying to ease the tension that seems to have come out of nowhere. "i could've said that about you and momo sana. that was some kiss." that was probably not the right thing to say to ease the tension.

"that's nothing. sana and i kiss all the time." momo brushes you off, shrugging, but sana looks hurt at the her words.

"nothing?"

"wait what do you mean all the time?"

momo blushes, looking between sana and nayeon. but sana's easily emotional feelings, amplified by her intoxication, have her eyes watering, sending momo straight into panic mode. "wait no- that's not what i meant satang-"

"then what did you mean?" sana frowns, you weren't sure if she was genuinely angry now or still playing around.

"i don't- satang i'm stupid we know this i just say stupid shit- things just come out of my mouth i didn't mean it like that-"

"then in what way did you mean it momoring?" her tone is clipped, throat scratchy.

"satang this isn't fair-"

"what isn't?"

"c'mon- satang please-"

all of a sudden, sana lurches forward, pressing her lips against momo's, trapping her against the kitchen counter. nayeon falls onto you without sana holding her up, you quickly grab her waist, supporting her, but both your eyes move back to sana and momo quickly.

they're kissing for real this time, not like when they were putting on a show for everyone else during the game. and you're both close enough you can hear the wet smacks of lips against lips, the little gasps and whimpers, every breath they take in between each kiss. momo's hands have come up to tangle in sana's hair, pulling her closer, their bodies meeting and moving against each other like they were made for each other.

you squirm slightly under nayeon, hands gripping her waist tighter at the sight, the dizzy feeling from earlier returning full force. you try and force yourself to focus on something else, it was probably a bit weird, to be so close, staring as your two closest friends made out, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away, your gaze lidded at the rushed pace, tongues clashing and being sucked into mouths.

you can tell nayeon is feeling very similarly, her hot breath hitting your lips at a faster pace than normal, laboured with excitement.

there's a crashing sound from upstairs where they were playing the game, followed by loud whooping and cheering. it pops the bubble that's formed between the four of you. sana breaks away from momo, panting, hands having come in to hold onto the other girl's hips, pushing her into the bench further having squeezed their bodies together as close as possible.

"w-was that- nothing?" her voice comes out hoarse and in a whisper, still catching her breath.

momo can't speak, her eyes still tightly shut, shaking her head in response.

"then what was it?"

momo groans, knocking her forehead against sana's gently, "don't ask me that sana." her voice is also laced with shaky breaths.

"why not?"

"it's confusing. you know i can't handle thinking about that much."

"am i confusing?"

she shakes her head again, but then points to you and nayeon, drawing a circle between the four of you, "this is confusing."

that gives sana pause, thinking over the possible implications of momo's words, taking the chance to catch her breath. then she looks up to the both of you, her eyes dragging up from the way you're still clutching nayeon's waist tightly, before meeting yours. the eye contact sends shivers down your spine, even when her eyes leave yours to stare into nayeon's, you can still feel all your senses on alert, breath held, tensions at an all time high.

sana's head tilts again, considering the both of you. then, she seems to come to a decision, and she's just as quick as she always is.

before you realise it, her lips are on yours, hand cupping your cheek, the other wrapped around nayeon to keep her there.

it's nothing like that first kiss you shared weeks ago. that was a simple peck, there and gone. this time, sana's moving her lips against yours, fingers caressing your cheek, down to your neck, lips soft and wet, panting directly into your mouth.

momo forces her eyes open, staring at you and sana kiss with hooded eyes. hands coming back down to grip the bench behind her, knuckles almost turning white from how hard she was holding onto it.

sana breaks away from you, but without taking a breath, turns her head, and starts kissing nayeon.

nayeon is only slightly surprised, almost all her weight leaning on you, gripping the back of your top tightly, reciprocating sana's kiss with as much vigor as sana gives.

when they finally break apart, you're all still breathing heavily, looking between each other, tension surmounting, thousands of words unsaid.

it's nayeon that speaks up first this time. she whistles lowly, letting out a small chuckle, "so... that wasn't... nothing."

"no." momo agrees. their eyes meet.

sana rolls her eyes, getting impatient, "so do you two wanna fuck or do you wanna fight?"

neither of them protest this time, they don't even laugh it off, you can all feel the very real pressure in the air.

"dunno. i think i need a..." momo licks her lips, "another taste to know." then she leans forward, capturing nayeon's lips with her own, straight up moaning at the contact. your thighs clench together at the sound. all of this was getting too much for your dumb little drunk brain. you had been spectating more than you had been involved, and it'd be a lie if you said you weren't turned on by it all.

nayeon and momo's kiss is different from sana's kisses. they're both aggressive, fighting for dominance, their natural banter translated onto their lips, grunts and gasps, trying to one-up each other.

eventually, they break away, but momo transitions straight over to you.

"need to compare." she mumbles lowly before attaching her lips to yours. she's much more gentle with you, teasing your mouth open before dipping her tongue inside, you whine against her, hips moving of their own accord when they grind up into nayeon who's still leaning on you for support.

you hear nayeon swear under her breath, regaining some of her drunk-addled consciousness to grip your hips roughly to stop you from doing that again. but that's the end of her control, she leans in, close enough so momo and you can both hear her, just inches away from your mouths moving against each other.

"my turn."

momo obliges, breaking away from you, only for nayeon to latch on. you can still hear momo's rough breathing next to your ear while your lips start moving against nayeon's, once again, with a completely different kissing style to momo and sana. she's slow and languid, pressed against your lips until you're just about to be out of breath, before breaking away and coming back in. she finishes with a little kitten lick on your upper lip, you whine, pushing your hips against her hands as she growls, pushing you back into the counter.

sana's spent the entire time watching all of you, having enough time to even pour herself another much needed drink. she swirls around the contents of her cup, downing it and speaking up again. "home?"

"home." you all unanimously agree.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you wake up hazily with a pounding headache, vision blurred, mouth dry.

you squeeze your eyes shut again, the dim brightness of the room too much for you. you reach blindly for your glasses that should be next to your pillow on the top bunk of the bunk bed you share with sana. instead, your palm comes colliding with something that most definitely was not your glasses.

your eyes shoot open, squinting and trying to focus, as the person you've hit groans.

"10 more minutes."

"...momo?"

momo groans again, burying her face into the pillow you're sharing, hair messily coming to cover her eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

suddenly, memories of last night come flying back to you. you look down alarmingly, lifting the blanket slightly to find yourself very naked, with an equally naked momo curled around you, arm thrown lazily over your side, legs intertwined.

you also realise that this was not your bed. you were on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed opposite the one you shared with sana, this was nayeon's bed. now even more confused, you slowly turn your body, trying your best to not disturb momo who mumbles something while you shuffle around the bed, before pulling you closer into her.

the sudden feeling of her chest now pressed against your bare back surprises you, even though you knew you were both naked. you try your best to not think about it, squinting to look around the room for where nayeon could be if you were in her bed.

you didn't have to look far though, cuddled up on sana's bed right opposite you, is sana and nayeon. and you'd bet they were in the same state of undress you and momo were.

your heart rate picks up as you recall the events of last night. you hadn't exactly done a lot of talking. as soon as you got home, you were all over each other, somehow, you had made the limited space, and the fact that not all four of you could fit on one little bunk bed work for all of you. your thighs tingle with the memory, a blush adorning your face.

eventually, it's sana that wakes up first, turning in her bed and blinking at you slowly.

you let her come to her senses, your eyes drifting down to where the blanket has fallen in her movement, breath catching at the sight of her pretty naked chest moving up and down slowly with each breath.

sana doesn't mind the attention, she never has, she yawns, stretching unabashedly, revealing more of herself, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to her waist. "morning." she grumbles out, her voice scratchy and deep with fatigue.

you gulp, unable to tear your eyes away from her, "morning."

nayeon whines as sana moves, slowly waking up as well, her arm curled around sana's thighs, trying to keep her still.

sana reaches around and pulls an oversized shirt on, patting her hair down. you're not sure if you're thankful or mournful she's covered up.

"what time is it?" nayeon's voice speaks up, laced with the same hoarse tiredness you're sure you all have right now.

sana picks up her phone on the bedside table next to her bed, you're not sure where yours is. "6."

"too early. come back to bed."

sana giggles then, putting her phone back down and running a hand through nayeon's hair. "don't you have a schedule to get to later?"

"yeah later."

"... we should talk anyway." she's strangely serious, normally the most energetic of you all, even in the mornings. it gets nayeon to look up, hair messy, squinting, placing her chin on sana's thigh.

sana smiles at the sight, you find nayeon's glasses next to her bed, reaching to hand it over.

sana murmurs her thanks, stretching out to grab it from you and gently placing it over the eldest's eyes. she looks adorable.

"how long have you been awake?" nayeon directs the question to you, finally able to see you were awake and looking at the two of them.

you smile, "not that long."

"is momo...?"

"still asleep."

"should we wake her?"

"she's not gonna like that."

"she needs to get up in a bit anyway. she has practice with jyp later remember?"

in agreement, you turn in your spot again, smiling at the sight of momo, mouth hanging open slightly, black hair framing her face. hesitantly, you nudge her shoulder. there's no response, so you nudge her again, a little harder. she groans, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers, "10 more minutes."

you giggle, "you said that 10 minutes ago."

she mumbles incoherently, drifting back into sleep.

you roll your eyes, nudging her again, except she doesn't respond. so you resort to different measures, your other hand that isn't being held captive by her, sneaks down between the two of you, and you start tickling her sides.

she squirms, blinking, waking up, whiny and giggly.

"s-stop- stop y/n- stop- i'm up i'm up!"

there's laughter from behind you as well, and momo sits up, pushing your hands away to stop you from your attack. not that she needed to, you're eyes focused on something else as soon as the covers left her body. but of course, she bumps her head on the bunk, yelping, and cradling the top of her head, her hangover only worsening.

"okay okay guys- before we talk- i'm gonna need all of you to put on some clothes." you speak up, eyes still staring at momo's chest, almost drooling over her.

momo raises an eyebrow, before she shoves her chest into your face, rolling on top of you and squishing you.

"wha- momo- hey! no- mmf-"

you can hear everyone laughing as momo gets her revenge, pulling on the back of your neck while pushing out her chest, squeezing your face in between her breasts.

she finally breaks away once she's had enough, grinning and plucking a shirt down from her bunk on the top bed, pulling it loosely over her body.

"there. better?" she's kneeling on top of you, legs on both sides of your torso, shirt just long enough to reach past her top thighs. you gulp, eyes trained on the skin of her legs. momo rolls her eyes, pulling her shirt down a little more, coughing to get your attention.

your eyes snap back up to her with a blush.

she grins, leaning down easily and pecking you, rolling off of you again with one leg still thrown over your legs and cuddling into your side.

"morning losers."

"you're inconceivable momo."

"where'd you learn that word from? my ass?"

nayeon blushes, digging into sana's thighs. "throw me a shirt you little gremlin."

"get it yourself."

"you're on my bed!"

momo blinks, looking down at herself, finally coming to realise her surroundings. "oh."

sana laughs, pulls a shirt from under her bed and hands it to nayeon, "just borrow one of mine for now."

"sana i just got one for her!"

"give it to y/n."

"you just wanted to see her in your clothes."

"so?"

momo grumbles, handing the shirt she had grabbed for nayeon to you, helping you pull it on, hand skimming over the skin of your side and stomach.

“so…” you cough awkwardly, squirming under momo’s fingers that have stayed beneath your shirt, drawing random shapes into your skin.

“wait why do we need to talk?” she speaks up, leaning on her elbow, face on her palm looking across the room.

sana laughs, “is it simple for you now momoring?”

“is what simple?”

“i love your brain you idiot.”

“huh?” momo looks as confused as ever, too early to be thinking about anything.

sana takes a breath, gripping nayeon’s hand, “i like you. all of you.”

momo blinks, “we like you too.”

“i don’t want to kiss mina the way i kiss you momoring.”

“oh.” momo looks at sana, thinking, “but don’t you kiss everyone?”

sana laughs again, “is that what you think of me?”

she shrugs, “we kiss all the time.” she quickly corrects herself, not wanting to make the same mistake as last night, “and it doesn’t mean nothing. i’m sorry for saying that last night.”

the younger smiles, appreciates the effort, “you’re right. i kiss you all the time. no one else. i think you just get too dazed to notice anything else after we kiss.”

nayeon snorts, laughing loudly.

“what about dahyun last night?” you speak up, recalling the whispered words sana said to the younger trainee.

“we were playing spin the bottle. nayeonnie doesn’t like bambam even though she kissed him right?”

nayeon’s laughs turn into coughs very quickly, “absolutely the fuck not.”

“i was just making sure dahyunnie was okay with me kissing her, i told her it’d be really quick and i wouldn’t kiss her like i did momo. you don’t have to be jealous y/n.” she teases.

you whine, “i wasn’t!! i was just curious…”

“wait… is that why you left the game early last night?”

you feel your cheeks heat up, refusing to acknowledge the question.

“y/n!”

“what!”

“you should’ve told us! or me.”

“no way. i didn't even know what i was feeling. i just needed to get some air."

"will you tell us next time?"

"next time what?"

"next time you feel anything. even if you don't know what the feeling is."

you smile, pulling momo's hand that was creeping dangerously higher out from under your shirt, and interlocking your fingers, "yes. i will. i like you all too."

"blegh."

you and sana both look at nayeon with a frown.

"what?" she asks simply, crunching her nose up.

"nerd." sana pushes nayeon off her thigh, rolling her eyes.

"i'm not good with feelings!"

"get better with them then because i'm not dating an emotionless narcissist."

nayeon perks up, ignoring the insult, "we're dating?"

sana blushes, "i don't know. do you guys want to?"

"i do." you offer sana a reassuring smile, she's been leading the conversation this whole time and it took a lot of courage to do that. "momo, nayeon?"

"i don't think anything changes between us. except we all get to kiss and have sex whenever we want right?"

"momo!" you slap her hand lightly, she snickers.

"yeah. i'm pretty happy with that."

you all turn your gazes to nayeon.

she rolls her eyes, "as long as i get to top momo."

"just try it!"

"i will!"

you spend the rest of the morning, laughing, cuddling, doing things you'd always do together, but now with more freedom and less confusion.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

sometimes, you wish you had a different dream. a lot of the time really.

it hasn't been a good week. monthly trainee evaluations were coming up, and everyone could feel the pressure. there were rumours running around that jyp was preparing a survival show to debut the next girl group, and he was in the midst of picking trainees to participate, so everyone was on edge more than ever.

the one who had it the worst was momo.

you wince, curling in on yourself, knees to your chest, head resting on your knees, while you listen to your girlfriend dry heave in the bathroom.

nayeon's pacing around the room, obviously agitated, wishing she could do something to help. sana was in practice, you knew how hard she was working recently, she didn't need to worry about anything more right now.

"-stupid fucking trainers. they're all fucking blind she doesn't need to lose weight. they're gonna fucking kill her fuck-"

the bathroom door creaks open. both you and nayeon's heads snap towards it immediately.

nayeon rushes forward, holding momo up, caressing her cheek, brushing hair out of her face.

momo looks pale as a ghost. she's trembling, exhausted, you can barely stand to look at her without breaking down in tears. she knows. she knows how you all felt about her. so even when she's suffering the most, she still manages to crack a joke, "you care about me now im?"

"shut up momo. this isn't the time for that. you should lie down."

momo groans weakly, "can't. need to go to the gym."

nayeon explodes then, "what?! you are not going to the fucking gym right now momo. look at yourself! you're dying!"

"you still think i'm hot though right?" she grins. it has none of her usual sparkle, no mischief, just white teeth and lips.

"shut up or i'll kill you before you kill yourself."

the younger girl shrugs, you can see her bones with the movement.

"don't go to the gym. you already haven't eaten anything for the last five days. you haven't even drunk water for the last five days."

"yeah and i've still got 2 and a half kilos to lose."

"you don't- you shouldn't have to do that! you're skinny enough! you're going to die before you lose that weight!"

momo takes a shaky breath, you're surprised when a tear escapes her eye. even the fact that her body still has enough water to cry, and her not being the type of person to cry much in the first place, especially in front of other people, is shocking enough. she can't hold herself up any longer, collapsing onto the bed next to you. you open your arms immediately, lowering your legs, adjusting so she can lean all her weight on you. the feeling of her body against yours is terrifying. she's all bones. you can feel each rib, every pointy bone in her joints.

"i know. i'm so scared of dying." she whispers out eventually, still crying silently.

nayeon squeezes in as well, holding one of momo's hands, bringing it up to her lips to kiss it softly.

"i don't want to sleep. i'm terrified i won't wake up again. that i won't be able to see you guys again."

there are tears streaming down yours and nayeon's faces as well now.

"then eat. please darling. you need to eat." nayeon begs, wiping at her eyes furiously.

momo looks up at her weakly, smiling even now, "you know i can't. you'd both be doing the same thing if you were in my position right now."

you hold back choked sobs, burying your face into her neck. she can feel the tears staining it.

"it's okay. i'm gonna be okay. we're all going to be okay." her hand finds yours, squeezes both your hand and nayeon's.

"it's not fair. you're pretty much the same weight as me. why are they making you do this?"

she shrugs again, her sharp shoulders dig into your chest, "maybe they're testing me."

"for what?" nayeon says incredulously.

"dunno. if i have the willpower. if i'm ready to die for my dream. who knows."

"it's not willpower. it's fucking starvation. you're not even- you're all muscle. there's nothing to lose. the number on that scale is only higher because muscle is heavier than fat. and you wouldn't have all that muscle if you weren't the best dancer in this fucking company."

"you think i'm the best dancer?"

nayeon sighs frustratedly, "i know you are. darling... please. please just- some water- anything-"

"i can't. i'm sorry."

you've been talking in circles for days. the same thing, over and over again, begging her to eat, drink some water, rest. she's persistent though, hasn't broken once. when she first told you all the news, you were aghast, angry, but not surprised. you all thought you knew what it meant to lose 7 kilograms in a week, it was terrible, but it wouldn't be impossible. they wouldn't set you an impossible task. there has always been importance placed on your weight in this industry. they weighed you every morning before classes, tracked your progress, what you ate, how often you worked out, made sure you were kept consistently underweight, just how the public liked you. if they said momo needed to lose 7 kilograms to be attractive, to get a chance to debut, then she needed to lose 7 kilograms.

it wasn't until around the third day that you realised just what that meant though.

she collapsed in dance class. it wasn't an out of the ordinary experience, they put all of you on the edge of malnutrition, so there were always girls fainting left and right. but it was the first time for momo. and unlike the other girls who were instructed to eat better, momo was encouraged to keep doing what she was doing. because it was working, she was losing a kilogram everyday, more than that at the time because all her water weight was gone first.

so she came home that night proud that she had collapsed. they'd brainwashed her.

and so she kept on going. when all the trainees were off enjoying lunch, she had two fingers down her throat in the company bathrooms. when everyone retired to go home for the night and rest, she'd be running 10 miles an hour on the treadmill at the gym. naturally, her body started shutting down. she was losing too much weight too quickly, she wasn't getting the nutrients she needed to function as a human being, her body was in a state of panic, it was retaining as much weight as it could, it thought momo was in trouble, that it needed to protect her from all of these sudden changes, so it's natural she stopped losing weight at such a fast rate.

she didn't care if it was natural. all that mattered was that that number on the scale was 7 kilograms less than it was when she was first told to lose the weight.

on the outside, you could see how much it was affecting her, not just physically, but mentally as well. you were so confused what to do, you wanted to support her, and as a trainee who had the same dream as her, you understood why she was doing what she was doing, but you also didn't want her to die. you wanted your momo back, the one that smiled and laughed and played around with sana, secretly loving how affectionate sana was despite her outwardly 'cool girl' persona. you wanted the momo that teased and fought with nayeon, the only one that could bring nayeon back down to earth when she was getting too much in her head. you wanted the momo that kissed and pulled you into her whenever you shared a bed, that clung to you in the morning when you had to get up, whiny and pouty and sleepy. she was a shell of herself now. they had ripped the life out of one of your favourite people on the planet.

the door to your dorm clicks open softly.

you're all still cuddled up on the bed, squeezed against one another.

sana walks in, a tired smile on her face. it immediately disappears once she sees the tear streaks on all of your faces.

she rushes forward, cupping momo's cheeks, checking her pulse.

"i'm alive satang don't worry."

"did you eat?"

"you know i haven't."

sana's the most emotional of you all. just seeing her favourite people crying has her own tears welling up.

"oh satang not you too-"

"i can't help it. look at you momoring. why didn't you guys tell me?" she directs that to you and nayeon, frowning.

"you were at practice. we didn't want you to worry."

"momo is more important than practice."

"no satang. monthly evaluations are in two days. you're gonna make that lineup."

"i don't care if i make it if you die momo!"

"stop it. all this talk about- i'm not going to die guys. i'm fine, don't give up on me yet. i'm still here. if you all think i'm not going to make it then how am i supposed to think i'm going to make it?"

"that's not fair momo." you speak up, still cuddled into her neck. "this isn't- this isn't a daily worry. we live in the fucking twenty first century it's not normal to worry about whether or not you're going to live to see tomorrow."

"please momoring. here-" sana starts scrambling around in her bag, pulling out a thermos. "just one please-" she shakes out an ice cube, holds it out to momo in her palm.

momo stares at it, watches it melt, her mouth open, lips dry.

"please it's just one-"

"i-i... i can't-"

sana sobs, head falling into her elbow, crouched on the floor.

nayeon gently takes the ice cube from her, holds it in her palm, watching momo's gaze follow it.

"momo..."

"don't make me nayeon. please. i can't."

"i'm not. i won't." nayeon makes sure momo is still watching her, then she slowly takes the ice cube into her own mouth. she sucks on it, her cheeks hollowing out, melts it in her mouth slowly. when she's done, she opens her mouth, showing she's swallowed it all, then she asks, "do i look different?"

momo looks at her confused, "no?"

"if i went on that scale, how much do you think my weight will change?"

momo gets it, her face darkening again, "don't do this nayeon."

"just answer the question."

"...it probably wouldn't."

"right. look, here, y/n, have one." she reaches for sana's thermos, you hold out your hand, accepting the cold cube, then you pop it in your mouth, burying yourself back to your position in her neck, kissing the skin there gently with your cool lips.

she sighs on top of you.

nayeon's shaking another one out, popping it in her mouth, then she's giving one to sana who has her hand out, staring at momo with wide, hopeful eyes.

momo looks between the three of you, you all had so much love for her, you all just wanted the best for her. it was one ice cube. her body was screaming for it.

slowly, she holds her palm out.

you all stare at her with bated breath, almost in disbelief.

she smiles, "i've probably cried out enough for an ice cube right?"

sana lets out a broken laugh, nayeon's quick to shake out an ice cube into momo's palm.

momo stares down at it, brings it up to her mouth, takes a breath, then encloses her lips around it.

she sighs again, closing her eyes, reveling in the coolness of it, leaning back against you more.

you let her, leaning back fully until you're laid on the bed, spooning her. nayeon comes in behind you, squeezing herself against the wall, an arm coming up to rest on your midriff, her hand able to reach momo's side. sana clambers up as well, kissing momo's forehead and sniffling, looping an arm around her waist and snuggling in. after you had started dating you ended up pushing the two bunk beds in your room together so you could all share the bottom bunk, and so you could use the top bunks for storage space. it was still a little bit of a squeeze but the four of you didn't mind. you liked being as close as you all possibly could.

momo couldn't shake the thought that the ice cube melting down her throat would add on another kilogram or two, but she tried to focus on the feeling of her loved ones curled around her instead, falling into a restless sleep, praying she would be able to wake up and feel like this again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you grip your fork tightly, stabbing into your bland salad.

sana sits next to you, just as stiff, staring daggers across the cafeteria.

momo doesn't seem to mind though. she's happily munching away at her leaves. your heart softens a little at the sight, remembering how far she pushed herself last month, at least she was eating better now.

but then nayeon's laugh breaks through again, loud and bright. your jaw tightens at the sound.

"that's it." sana goes to stand but you tug on her hand, pulling her back down.

"don't."

"why not?" she spits, you've never seen her so livid. she was the happy charm of the company, people forget she could feel other emotions too.

"you'll cause a scene."

"good. then maybe he'll get his fucking baby hands off her."

"we can't. everyone will wonder why."

"why what?" she's still seething.

"why you have an issue with them. at worst they’ll think there’s something going on between you and nayeon. at best they’ll think you have a crush on him."

sana blanches, flicking her gaze over to you, “what?!”

“i don’t like it either. but we just have to trust her right?” you offer a smile, it’s a bit wonky and forced and sana sees straight through it, but it does get her to calm down a bit, taking a breath and slumping down in her seat.

“fine.”

“she loves you.”

“whatever.”

you smile genuinely at momo who looks at you in confusion, her mouth still full of lettuce. you shake your head, gesturing for her to keep eating and not to worry.

it’s not until later in the day when you have combined level dance practice that the issue comes up again. normally, he wouldn’t be near your class, sana and momo were naturally gifted dancers, so they were in higher level classes, and nayeon was an all-rounder, she was always in every top class to ensure she was around other people her level.

“they’d be cute wouldn’t they?” jihyo makes light conversation while you’re all stretching.

jeongyeon scoffs, “are you serious? he’s like… a baby.”

“he won’t be for that much longer.”

“gross dude!”

jihyo laughs.

“who are you guys talking about?” momo moves towards your group, mina in tow behind her.

“bambam and nayeon.”

“oh.” she drops down in a stretch, “what about them?”

jeongyeon snickers, teasing momo, “of course you didn’t know you airhead. bambam has a crush on her.”

“really?”

“yeah. did you see him almost wet himself when he got her during spin the bottle at jackson’s party?”

“it was so funny! and then when he went in to kiss her, that was so awkward! poor kid, i almost felt bad for him.”

“i don’t.” sana speaks up then, her teeth gritted, eyebrows furrowed, not even bothering to hide her gaze, staring at bambam and nayeon playing around in the mirror.

jihyo and jeongyeon exchange glances, confused.

“uhh… you okay sana?”

her eyes snap back up to meet jeongyeon’s, “yeah. fine, why?”

“you just seem a little… edgy.”

sana huffs, standing up again, “just tired.” she doesn’t say anything else, turning on her heel and leaving the training room.

momo catches your eye, tilts her head in question.

you shake your head, speaking up, “i’ll check on her.”

you jog outside, finding her near the water fountain.

“hey.”

“if you’re gonna lecture me again i don’t want to hear it.”

“no i wasn’t- i didn’t mean to lecture you at lunch. i just wanted to check on you.”

she sighs, sinking down into the cushion next to the fountain. you carefully sit next to her.

“i’m sorry. i just- i do trust her i just- i don’t trust him.”

“he’s just a kid sweetie.”

she scoffs, “yeah a hormonal pubescent teenage boy. they’re soo innocent, not like they don’t watch porn and jack off to every woman who even breathes near them.”

you’re about to reply when the door to the dance studio opens again, it’s nayeon.

she pokes her head out, looks up and down the hallway, and spots you, grinning. she jogs down to the both of you.

“hey! what are you guys doing here? class is about to start!”

sana doesn’t bother meeting her gaze, “oh so now you care about us?”

nayeon frowns, looks at you in confusion, you feel incredibly awkward, avoiding her eyes as well, “what’s going on?”

“nothing. go back to your boyfriend.”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about sana. c’mon, let’s go to practice.”

“you don’t? is it that natural for you to drape yourself all over him?”

“what?”

sana finally looks up, eyes red and angry, “bambam. you know he likes you. why do you entertain him?”

“what? sana he’s just a kid-“

sana stands then, throwing her hands up in frustration, you keep your gaze locked on your shoes, “a kid! i’m sick of hearing that! so what if he’s a fucking kid? we’re fucking kids. you all think it’s so impossible that the im nayeon would ever like someone like him so it shouldn’t be anything to worry about right?! you know what sounds more impossible?! that im nayeon is in a polyamorous relationship with three other girls. three other kids!”

“sana! calm down don’t be so loud-“

“no don’t you tell me to fucking calm down. you see? we have to hide this. us. we can’t even talk about us in public. i was okay with that! because i still had you all. you were all worth it! but you could get with bambam right now and people wouldn’t even bat an eye. they’d celebrate it, congratulate him for pulling the girl, all while we can’t even hold hands in public without people looking at us weird!”

“but i- i don’t want to be with him! i want to be with all of you!”

“then don’t fucking laugh at his jokes, touch his biceps, compliment his fucking hair!”

“but- honey that’s all harmless-“

“you still don’t get it! you-"

the door opens once again, and this time it's momo's head that pops out. she frowns when she sees all of you, walking up, tilting her head in question.

sana huffs, "whatever. i'm not feeling like practice today. tell the instructors i'm sick please."

"wait sana-"

she turns on her heel and struts briskly away.

nayeon sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair, "what is going on with her?" she mutters to herself.

you frown, the events of the day culminating, you wish nayeon could see where you were coming from, "she told you. i think it was pretty obvious." you didn't mean to sound so clipped, your tone just slipped out that way.

nayeon looks down at you, you were never one to talk back, you'd kept more of your emotions to yourself. "are you angry with me too then?"

"that's not it nayeon. look i don't want to fight. let's just go to practice."

you stand up, brushing past her, unable to look her in the eye. you can hear momo questioning nayeon behind you before you open the door to the practice room again, thinking over sana's words that left a heavy feeling in your stomach.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

after practice, you and momo go and grab dinner while nayeon has to go to another vocal lesson.

momo's still blissfully unaware, talking about how the dance practice was and how much fun she had in such a big class with everybody. you listen to her ramble with a smile, not wanting to burst her bubble.

it's unavoidable when you go home later that night and find nayeon alone in your dorm, freshly showered and typing away at her phone.

momo skips in first, kissing nayeon and grabbing some clothes to shower into, heading into the bathroom right after.

nayeon looks at you then, putting her phone down, "hey."

"hi." you shrug off your bag, taking off your shoes.

"where's sana?"

"i thought she'd be home by now."

she frowns, "i haven't seen her since..."

you bite your lip, growing slightly concerned, "should we call her?"

"i don't know if she would pick up for me..."

"right..." you take out your phone, scrolling to sana's contact and pressing dial. it rings for a little, and just before you're about to give up, she picks up, giggly and breathy.

"y/n!! i miss you! what's up!"

you squint, there was a lot of background noise, "sana where are you?"

"out! i'm having fun!"

"where?"

"i don't really know but i'll be home soon! i promise! i love you!" she blows a kiss through the phone and then she hangs up.

you stare down at her contact picture, it was of her and a hamster plushie momo had won for her when you had gone on a date to the carnival. you had all agreed it looked like her and she had hated it because she thought you were saying her chubby cheeks were the resemblance point.

"is she okay?" nayeon speaks up again, barefaced with her thick glasses on.

"i think so. she sounded... she said she'd be home soon."

"oh."

"yeah."

it's oddly quiet, awkward. you start shuffling out of your day clothes, picking out pyjamas for your turn to shower after momo.

"are we okay?" nayeon breaks the silence suddenly, eyes seemingly even bigger behind her glasses. she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

you sigh, moving around the small room to clean up a little, if only to give your hands something to do, so you had an excuse not to look at her. "i don't know. i think sana's less okay than me."

"but you're still... not okay?"

"i feel silly. momo doesn't even feel anything about it. i wish i was the same. i know you'd never cheat on us or whatever, i just- it's still hard y'know? watching you be like that with him. like- you wouldn't want to see me all over another guy right?"

"but he doesn't mean anything to me. he's just- he's like my little brother."

"i know that's why i feel silly. i know realistically you'd never leave us for him. but it still hurts sometimes- like- like you're dangling the fact that you can in front of our faces."

she's quiet for a bit. you risk it to sneak a glance at her. she has her eyebrows furrowed, thinking.

you sigh again, moving forward and standing next to the bed. you place your hand on her head, then start running your fingers through her hair.

"i'm sorry. i don't want to be- i'm not trying to be clingy or jealous or whatever i just can't help it. i- i- i love you."

she looks up at you, surprised. your hands move down to cup her cheeks, smoothing out the skin, there.

you lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, breathing softly, closing your eyes, appreciating her presence. then, you move the extra inch to press your lips together, just slowly, softly, only for a second or two.

when you break away, she doesn't let you go, holding onto your wrist and tugging you down gently, asking you to hug her. and you oblige. kneeling on the bed, letting her wrap her arms around you, and place another kiss on the crown of your head.

"i love you too. i'm sorry i didn't- i wasn't aware of how it looked on the outside. i never- because he doesn't mean anything to me like that, i didn't think anything of it. i didn't realise you guys may have taken it differently. thank you for telling me."

you peck the side of her hand that's right next to your face, holding yours. "it's because you're a T isn't it?" you joke.

she chuckles behind you, "yeah and all my girlfriends are Fs. emotional losers."

"repressed freak."

she rolls her eyes, brings you in closer, "i love you."

"you said that already."

"i wanted you to know again."

"looks like our F is rubbing off on you."

she whines, "are you not going to say it back?"

you smile, "i love you too."

when momo comes out of her shower, she curls into bed immediately with you all, tired from her day and wanting no more than to sleep with her girlfriends. she hopes you've all made up and the fighting can stop tomorrow.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"did she come home last night?"

"it doesn't look like it."

"fuck she's not picking up her phone either."

"where could she be?"

"what are we going to tell the company?"

"she can't just have gone missing right?"

you're all stressing, nayeon's pacing around the room like she does when she's agitated, momo's trying to call sana's cell, and you're checking her socials and her friends to see if anyone knows where she is.

"what did she say when you called her again yesterday?"

"that she'd come home soon. there was a lot of background noise though, she said she didn't know where she was."

"you don't think she's in trouble right?"

"i don't know..."

"fuck! i never should've fought with her yesterday!"

"don't- no nayeon this isn't your fault at all don't blame yourself. we're going to find her." you step up, halting her pacing, grabbing her hands and squeezing.

she sighs, gritting her teeth, "fine. c'mon. let's go to class, we're late. maybe someone there has seen her.”

before she moves to leave, you cup her cheek, turning her back to you and kiss her in reassurance. she offers a smile when you break away, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

momo keeps trying sana's phone while you walk to the company building. by now, you were all relatively well known in the company, and the tension could be felt by newer trainees, they cleared the way as you walked past, not wanting to get caught up in anything.

you push open the door to the dance studio hurriedly, not in the mood for another scolding from the trainers.

but you freeze, spotting sana on the floor, stretching and getting ready.

"y/n? what's wrong?" momo tries peeking over your shoulder to see why you've stopped, and then she spots her as well.

"satang!"

sana looks up, there are obvious bags under her eyes, she's sluggish in her movements. momo pushes past you, dumping her bag down and rushing over.

"where were you?! we've been calling you all morning!"

sana squints, backing away from momo who was speaking too loud for her, "phone died."

"we were worried satang! why didn't you come home last night?" she says the last part in a whisper, not wanting to get sana in trouble with the watchful trainers.

you and nayeon have both entered now as well, nayeon stands behind you a little awkwardly, unsure of how to approach.

"i was out." sana says simply.

"but where?"

"doesn't matter. i'm here now right?"

"sana we were really worried." you speak up now, crouching down into a stretch.

she looks at you, her eyes are lifeless. "and now there's nothing to be worried about. i'm fine."

"what happened to you last night? you said you'd come home and then you didn't. where did you sleep? did you sleep? you look terrible."

she cringes, "gee thanks."

"you know i didn't mean it like that. what aren't you telling us?"

at that moment, bambam chooses to come over and greet you all.

"morning nayeon!"

nayeon is still focused on sana, frowning, but she greets him offhandedly anyway, "morning bam."

"what? no morning for us bambam?" sana speaks up with a teasing smile, it's anything but harmless.

"o-oh! sorry. good morning sana, momo, y/n." he bows to each of you.

"i get it. it's your crush on nayeonnie isn't it? she's so pretty right? and born to be an idol. i can see why you like her."

bambam sputters, completely unprepared, blushing bright red.

sana's smile is sinister.

"sana stop."

she looks at you innocently, blinking, "stop what? i'm not doing anything."

"sana!" behind you, mark suddenly appears, clapping bambam on the back. "last night was fun. you should invite your roomies next time! i'm sure bam would appreciate that wouldn't he?" mark elbows bambam with a snicker.

"oh i'm sure he would. i don't know though, i kinda liked it when it was just us y'know?" she sports a smirk, the one she uses when she wants sex.

mark blushes, muttering something and then dragging bambam away.

"what the fuck sana?" nayeon finally speaks up, glowering.

"what?" she blinks up.

"you were out with mark last night?"

"so what if i was?"

"we were fucking worried."

"and i told you i'm fine now. there was no reason to worry."

"we thought something bad could've happened."

"yeah well obviously nothing did right!? i don't get why you guys are so pressed. i just had a little fun, i needed it, and it was good for me."

"you mean he was good for you?"

"better for me than you were."

nayeon falters at that, hurt flashing across her face, "i'm sorry."

"what for?"

"i didn't listen to you yesterday."

sana shrugs, "it's fine. i get why you like it. i tried it. it's the attention right? it's nice to know someone else is in love with you."

"that's not- that's not what i was doing sana-"

"then what were you doing? you're with us right? so why are you flirting with other people? worried we won't last? backup options? attention?"

"sana- please- can we talk about this i don't-"

"we are talking about this."

"not here. alone."

"you ashamed of me?"

"no! sana what-"

"mark can hold my hand in public. he can kiss me in public. he can call me his."

nayeon clenches her fist, "does he?"

sana shrugs again, not bothering to answer, moving into another stretch. you can't believe her, what you're hearing, you've never seen her like this. never thought she could be like this. momo looks to be in shock too, sitting on her haunches, staring at sana with hurt written all over her face. sana ignores you all.

class starts.

you keep sana in the corner of your eye. she fools around with mark, teasing him, playfighting with him, and ignores the three of you completely. you try and understand where she's coming from, why she was purposely trying to hurt you. she just told you she loved you last night, this wasn't real. she was just doing this as her own personal form of revenge. she didn't mean any of this.

you had to keep telling yourself that.

as class ends, sana looks like she’s about to go out with mark again, but you quickly run out the door, tugging on her arm, “can we talk?”

her eyes soften when she realises it’s you, but she still looks unsure.

that is, until momo links her arm with yours, pleading with sana as well.

“alright.”

you quickly lead her into one of the empty recording studios, gesturing for nayeon to come follow before sana can change her mind. as soon as you’re all inside, you stand against the door, blocking any routes of escape.

sana scoffs when she sees nayeon enter the room as well, but with you in the way, there’s nowhere to run.

“what did you want to talk about?” her tone is cutting, she rubs in between her eyebrows, pushing out the tension there.

“you.”

“what about me?”

“how could you do that to us satang?”

sana sighs, glancing at momo, “you notice now momoring? how come you didn’t have an issue when it was nayeon?”

“w-what?”

“you knew bambam liked nayeon. why didn’t you have a problem when nayeon was hanging all over him?”

nayeon tries to protest but momo replies quickly, wide-eyed, “what do you mean? nayeon doesn’t like bambam though.”

“and i don’t like mark. so what’s the difference?”

“you went after him.” you interject.

“no i didn’t.”

“then how did you end up hanging out with him last night?”

“he saw me crying outside the company. he offered to listen and then to distract me afterwards. i had fun. he didn’t make me cry.”

“sana…” nayeon’s lower lip is wobbly.

“what?”

“…i’m sorry. for not listening to you. i should’ve given you a chance to explain yourself and understand where you were coming from.”

sana’s quiet for a bit, staring at nayeon, turning the words over in her head slowly. and then her own lip starts wobbling, throat constricting, tears welling up.

nayeon panics, “fuck- no i didn’t want to make you cry i didn’t- i’m sorry i made you cry the first time i didn’t- i’m sorry-“ she desperately wants to comfort her but she’s not sure if she can, still in an awkward sort of limbo.

sana closes it though, almost leaping into nayeon’s arms, burrowing her face into her neck and breathing out shakily, sniffling.

“…i’m sorry too. i knew what i was doing- i was being petty and stupid and jealous and i hurt all of you doing that.” she whispers into nayeon’s neck, but it’s quiet enough in the room that you can all hear her.

you breathe a sigh of relief, internal turmoil calmed for the moment. you walk forwards, wrapping your arms around the both of them, feeling momo do so as well on the other side.

“i don’t like him. i didn’t kiss or hold hands or do whatever else i said in there. i just- it really didn’t bother me before. that we had to keep this to ourselves. but then seeing nayeonnie with bambam acting so carefree and- and- everything, i just wished i could grab her and kiss her in front of him, so that everyone knew you were all mine, and that i’m all yours.”

“one day we’ll be able to sana. i promise. and i won’t- i’m not going to act like i’m not already spoken for anymore. i am all yours and i always will be.”

sana sniffles again, you’re close enough you can lean over nayeon’s shoulder and kiss her forehead.

“and i’m sorry for making you guys worry. my phone really did die though if that’s any solace.” she chuckles wetly.

“i have a portable!” momo quickly breaks away, running to her bag and pulling it out, handing it to sana with a proud smile.

sana returns it, thanking her and kissing her cheek, plugging in her phone.

“you were wrong about one thing you know.” nayeon speaks up again, the hint of a smile on her face.

sana stiffens, ready to argue again but not wanting to.

“korea is so homophobic that we can actually hold hands in public without people thinking we’re anything. we could probably get away with kissing on a few rare occasions too and people would still think we’re just really good friends. especially if we’re all kissing each other, they’ll just think we’re… all very friendly with each other and kiss as a sign of affection or something.”

sana laughs out loud, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, “you’re right. i don’t necessarily have to hide how affectionate i am with you all.”

“and you’re very affectionate satang.”

sana rolls her eyes, hitting momo lightly. but then, her phone lights up, and she seems to read over something. she takes a few seconds, and then she’s blinking up, fresh tears in her eyes, launching forward into nayeon’s arms again.

nayeon grunts, catching her and squeezing back, “i take it you saw my message.”

“mmsorry- i lov- too.” her voice is muffled, but it’s obvious what she’s saying.

you don’t know what nayeon’s text said, and sana refuses to share with you afterwards, saying “nayeonnie’s words are for me only, tell her to do it again for you.” knowing nayeon hates expressing too much, which makes it all the more special to sana, but you’re just happy everything is okay between the four of you again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

there was something going on and everyone knew it. the rumoured survival show for a new debut group was apparently set to start filming soon. select trainees were being pulled out of practice and given the news, although they were instructed not to say anything about it in order to not cause discouragement amongst other trainees and to minimise media leakage.

your girlfriends had all been called up and informed that they would be participating. now you were all waiting in anticipation for your own name to be called out.

after the monthly trainee showcase, JYP himself comes to make the announcement.

"i'm sure you've all heard the rumours going around about the new group we're planning to debut. it's going to be televised nationally in a reality-type fashion, so even if you don't make it to the final lineup, making it onto the show itself will be a big deal already, getting your name out there for potential future plans. the name of this show will be..." he pauses for effect, "sixteen!"

there's thundering applause, but you can barely hear it, anticipating, praying he would be announcing the lineup and that your name would be there.

"it's sixteen for the chosen sixteen exemplary trainees that the staff have recognised and recommended. they will be competing for seven spots in this new group. all sixteen trainees have now been notified of their involvement, but if you haven't received any news, don't worry! i always have all of you in my mind, like god, your time will come! so please cheer on and support your fellow trainees in their journeys!"

did you hear that right? everyone chosen had been notified already? so you weren't chosen? you weren't good enough? all that training... all those hours slaving away... all those tears, doubts, connections you've lost, all for what?

you look around, other people are cheering, some are crying, some are in disbelief like you.

your feet move before you can think, pushing to the front of the crowd, grabbing JYP.

"sir- why- why didn't i make it?" you're desperate, huffing, on the verge of breakdown.

he looks you up and down, a frown appearing on his usually smiley face, "what was your name again?"

your heart sinks. he didn't even know your name.

and then a look of realisation comes across him, "oh! you're that girl that's always with nayeon, momo, and sana! you should be happy for them! they're all fantastic trainees, they'll make wonderful idols."

you blink, dumbfounded, mouth agape.

"b-but- i- what was it? was i not a good enough singer? dancer? am i not pretty enough?" you're grasping for straws, anything to help you cling on to the possibility of your dream.

he tilts his head, crossing his arms, "ah- you... perhaps it's because you're always with those three. you just don't... stand out. nayeon has natural star power, her voice is one of the strongest in the company. momo is the best dancer we have, probably one of the best dancers in your generation. and sana has a personality people gravitate towards, she can keep group morale up and maintain public image. let me ask you.. what do you have? because aside from being friends with genuinely talented people, you just seem... average."

your hand falls, head drooping, the words hitting you hard.

"don't take this too personal though! perhaps with them out of the way, you can really find your own light to shine now! i believe in you!" he smiles again, then he's off with a flourish, being guided away by busy assistants.

you stare after him in shock, a flashback of sorts playing through your head, of the hardships you've been through to get to this point, of the tears and sweat you've dripped, it was too much. you needed out.

again, your feet move before you have control over them. mind moving at miles a minute, body on autopilot.

you're back in you're dorm room before you know it, and then your suitcase is being pulled off the top bunk, laid on the floor, and you're stumbling around throwing things in haphazardly. you don't even register when the door opens and three sets of footsteps tread in, too focused on thinking about how to get out, whether you could get to the airport in time, what you would say to your parents, your family, the people standing at the door in surprise, watching you clumsily shove things into your suitcase.

"...y/n? what are you doing?"

you barely look at them to reply, voice light and distracted, "packing."

"where are you going?"

"home."

"what?"

you head into the bathroom, starting to pick off the things you needed, you could leave some things, not everything was going to fit anyway and some things you could throw away.

"y/n wait- stop- just wait-"

you ignore them, clattering makeup items falling out of order into toiletry bags.

"y/n!" it's nayeon, her hands gripping your wrists firmly, not too firm to hurt, but enough to get you to stop. you finally look up at them, the break allows you to really feel your emotions, tears welling up immediately.

"oh sweetheart." nayeon tugs you into a hug, running a hand through your hair comfortingly. you feel sana and momo surround you, placing their arms around you as well. the dams break open then, and you're sobbing into their arms, all of your emotions finally catching up.

you stay there for a few minutes, just crying it out, the girls hushing and soothing you, letting you babble nonsense and cry into their shoulders.

when you finally calm down, you're exhausted, slumping down into nayeon. she supports you immediately, and tries to peek at you from your position in her neck, but you refuse to look at her, your eyes puffy and nose red.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head.

"do you... still want to leave?"

you take a breath, unsure. "i don't know." you whisper honestly, "what do i have to do here if i stay?"

"you have us." sana says quietly.

you chuckle wetly, "you don't get it. you guys all made it. i'm never going to. i don't- i'm happy for you all i am but- my dream-"

"shhh- it's okay. we... we do get it my love. we were all on this journey together weren't we? we've all had thoughts we wouldn't make it. even nayeon." momo tries to lighten the mood a little.

"but- you've all made it now. i don't even- why would you still want to be with me? i'm not good enough. you all got through. i'm the only one who didn't. doesn't that- don't you think i'm just pathetic? how could you still like me?"

"what?! what are you talking about y/n?! we don't like you for your talent we're not some talent recruiters. we like you because you're you, you're sweet and funny and caring. i know it's hard because we're in this industry so it feels like we're all competing, but you can't- it's not like that for us. don't ever doubt our love for you again."

you sob quietly, emotions still a wreck.

"please don't leave. this doesn't mean anything. there will be other opportunities. your dream is still possible. we might not be able to debut all together like we always wanted to but- but you still have a chance y/n. don't give up on it."

you sigh, too tired to argue, letting them bring you to bed, giving you one of the coveted middle spoon spots and cuddling into you until you fell into a restless sleep.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the next few weeks are absolutely hectic. for your girlfriends. you spent most of your time moping around, giving only about 50% in all your classes, motivation completely shot. it didn't help that the three of them started spending a lot more time together, as is expected when they have to prepare filming for the same thing. often you'd find yourself coming home after a long day of practice, and find them giggling and laughing about things you have no idea about, sharing inside jokes and talking about things that happened during their day that you'd be too tired or jealous to ask about.

they tried to include you of course, but you couldn't bring yourself to join in.

internally, you felt terrible. you knew you should be proud, happy, enthusiastic that all three of them were in the process of having their dreams come true. they had worked harder than all of you, they certainly deserved this opportunity, and they deserved you to be in their corner, supporting them and loving them like any other partner would do in this situation.

but you couldn't do it. jyp's words continue to ping around your head like an endless pinball machine. how you had always been in their shadow, how he never saw your worth because of them. a small, petty part of you blamed them. you hated that part of yourself, tried to squash it down as much as you could. but sometimes when you're laid in between them at night, their light breaths deep in sleep, those thoughts come back, and you can't help but be envious of their position, wondering why them and not you.

naturally, you started drifting from them, especially when filming actually started.

they were moved out to different dorms during the filming, split into major and minor dorms so that the film crew could get some reality content. they still texted you often though, asking how your day was every night, they still made every effort to make it work. it was you who really started moving away when they were no longer physically there to remind you they loved you.

you'd cry most nights. cuddling into sheets that smelled like them, watching episodes of sixteen, wishing you were there with them. you missed them.

and then momo gets eliminated.

it's brutal. you're confused when she shuffles into your dorm room, hood over her head, dark circles under her eyes, still red from crying.

you had no idea what happened, the episode hadn't aired yet.

but your heart breaks seeing your girlfriend. you immediately squeeze her in your arms, she bursts into tears again, sobbing, clinging to you, unable to make any words.

she tells you later when you're curled up in bed, what happened and how she got eliminated. when she drifts off to bed, you stare at her sleeping face, now devoid of tears, she looked peaceful. and those sick thoughts come back.

you felt grateful she was eliminated. she was brought down to your level again. she was just another trainee now. it was terrible, but you had her again, you weren't going to lose her. you should've felt angry, sad, disappointed her dreams were just ripped away from her after getting so close. but you felt relieved instead. what a terrible person you were.

soon enough, it's the finals.

momo's dyed her hair a light blonde colour and cut bangs. you went with her and helped her pick it out the day after she came home. she needed a fresh start, needed to forget the pain it felt to be back at square 1.

now you stood with her in the crowd with the other eliminated trainees. you nod at them politely, but you have your hand tightly gripped with momo's anxiously looking up at the stage waiting for your other two girlfriends to appear. you hadn't seen them in months and you'd missed them.

momo had talked your ear off about everything that happened while she was on the show. updated you on everything. it felt nice, to be included again, to feel needed, wanted.

and momo wasn't shy about how supportive she was of nayeon and sana. constantly bringing them up during the day, wondering how they were doing, if they'd eaten yet, if they were getting enough sleep, hoping they weren't thinking about her getting eliminated too much, praying they'll both make the final group.

you agreed with her each time, but she made you feel like a terrible girlfriend. she was what you were meant to be when she was still on the show. you try and make up for it in the last few weeks, making signs and pasting pictures of nayeon and sana on posters, making some for both you and momo to bring to the finals. she grins and kisses you on the head when she sees them, saying how sweet you were, how considerate you were. you smile guiltily, knowing that was far from the truth.

finally, the lineup starts to be announced.

you spot sana on the majors side already, nayeon still on the minors side. you have your fingers crossed, anxiously watching, momo's hand is white from how hard she's gripping yours, just as anxious.

nayeon's name is announced first.

momo bursts into tears, smiling, crying. she's so proud. you are too. she made it. you always knew she would. im nayeon was born to be a star.

and then, after the first seven are confirmed, sana's spot also secured, jyp makes the surprise announcement. it was going to be a nine member group. he announces tzuyu first, as the fan favourite.

and then, momo's name is read out.

momo is in shock at first, but trainees around you start clapping her on the back, congratulating her, and she starts sobbing again, covering her face as the camera pans to her. you quickly let go of her hand, not wanting to arouse any suspicions. she tries and looks at you but she's pushed up on stage before she knows it.

you can see nayeon and sana in the back, crying, in shock as well.

you can't even listen to momo's speech.

you feel like you're the only person in the entire venue again. it was quiet. you were alone. again.

your feet start to move on autopilot again. dissociating.

you manage to slip through the crowd, back turned, not realising the girls were searching the crowd, looking for you. wanting to share one of the most important parts of their lives with you. you were too selfish to let them.

you're at the dorms again, the suitcase is out, already half-packed from the last time you'd thought about doing this. this time though, they wouldn't be able to stop you. there'd be an afterparty, you were sure, they'll probably expect to see you there, they won't. then they'll come home, worried, and find all your things gone. the only remnant of your existence, a letter placed carefully on the bed.

dear nayeon, momo, sana,

firstly, congratulations. if anyone deserved those spots, it was you three. you've all worked so hard to get here, and i'm so proud of you all. your dreams are coming true. everything you've ever thought was out of reach, is about to become reality. you deserve all the fame, money, love, everything, and i know it's going to come your way, because i fell for you too.

i'm sorry. i'm not who you thought i was. i'm not a good person. and you deserve to be with good people. i'm leaving. for good this time. i'm sorry that i chose tonight to do this, when you three should be on top of the world, in a way, it's my own sort of revenge i guess. selfishly making you feel a little of what i've felt the last few months. it's why i can't be with you anymore. i'll only bring you down more. i loved you all. i didn't want to start hating you for being better than me, i wanted to keep the memories of our love pure and joyful. if i stayed, i'd grow to despise you for having what i've wanted for all my life. i didn't want that. i'm a terrible person, i could never ask for your forgiveness, only that you forget about me. forget me and continue living your lives under the spotlight, don't let me drag you back into the shadows. don't try and find me.

i'm sorry.

when they try and call you, you'll be on the flight home, your phone unable to receive any of their messages. you throw away your phone as soon as you arrive, buying a new one and starting your new life.

they barely have time to chase after you. you'd be grateful for that. they're thrown straight into schedules and planning for their debut.

eventually, you become a distant memory for them, as they do for you.

when you're older, you'll find a box you sealed away, filled with pictures of the four of you, young and in love. you'll sit there, thumbing through them, crying, wondering how you could possibly have let them go. you'll think back to your actions, appalled at the person you were, hating the industry for pitting you against them, and then realising it was your fault the entire time. you were young, stupid, greedy, you thought your dream mattered more to you than the girls did. now that you’re older, you realise you were so wrong. the girls were your dream.

you'll buy a ticket for their concert while they’re on tour, and you'll quietly cry to yourself again, seeing them in person, grown up, smiling, singing, doing what they loved in front of crowds of people who loved them as much as they loved you all those years ago. you'll think about making yourself known to them, but you'd hurt them enough. they seemed happy now, you had no place intruding on that anymore.

you were just another stranger now. you have been for years. and you had no one to blame but yourself.

#namosa #samoyeon #twice x reader #nayeon x reader #momo x reader #sana x reader #twice nayeon x reader #twice momo x reader #twice sana x reader #sana #momo #nayeon #minatozaki sana #hirai momo #im nayeon #twice sana #twice momo #twice nayeon #dovveri

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