#if you (a general audience you but it can be you too grins) want to talk about scotch's confusion about his attraction to eloise we'd be
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WSBH chara q’s: (you don’t have to answer all the numbers, just whatever you want to 𖢘)
16/35/51 for Scotch
1/6/55 for Atlas
I LOVE YOU
16. What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?
okay i truly think scotch argues with seraph in his head all the time. ALL the time. scotch largely ignores them, and vice versa, because he dislikes them and they know it. seraph is very conflict avoidant lol, and as long as hes not a "threat" they dont care to talk to him about their problems. he probably argues with atlas and jacob (his older brother) too, atlas about more stupid small stuff, and jacob about childhood and life stuff :p
im trying to think of more general groups he would argue with but i cant come up with anything BAHAH. hes not exactly conflict avoidant in the annoying libra way that seraph is, he more just ignores conflict for his friends’ (mostly atlas’) sake. idk if that makes sense LOL
35. What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?
hmmm.. smallest? i mean scotch strings eloise along for most of the time pre timeskip. its not a main focus but its definitely important in order to understand scotch as a whole. she and scotch go out for a while, and mid way through that he realizes hes GAY gay. lol. and obviously lying to her about that is pretty questionable after a while. especially since he and atlas have been 👉👌 like the whole time. but she kind of knows. well
something a little bigger would be him encouraging or otherwise turning a blind eye to all the weird stuff atlas is up to. he doesn't know what it's like to be a werewolf, he can't say anything, right? lol.... murder is okay if its a talking dog doing it. scotch enabler supreme. actually when seraph is introduced, he and atlas have a 'joke' (kind of starts being real) about luring seraph somewhere to kill them. obviously doesnt happen and gets abandoned. but i think its important to know about their dynamic LOL
51. What’s a phrase they say a lot?
this guy is kind of goofy. i cant think of phrases rn but he has a specific way of speaking.. you could watch pretty much any old pop punk band interview and kind of get the idea. HAHAH
1. What’s the lie your character says most often?
atlas is a big fan of saying 'its fine' for all situations ever. family in mortal danger? its fine. completely splitting? its fine. arthritis excruciating? its fine. hes one of those people that dont like to deal with the fawning of others unless hes feeling real special. Ends up putting people in more danger a lot of the time. i think eloise is the only fan of communication in this friend group to be honest. i should have made her the main character
he tends to make promises he cant keep as well, but thats more general..
6. What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?
i have NO idea. i feel like atlas would be a music snob, so maybe his favorite 'super underground' bands. otherwise he'd probably never recommend raw human meat to another human (no matter how much scotch asks -__-).. (he would chicken out anyway)
55. What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?
um. so atlas hates working out. he especially hates running, you know, the thing that wolves are known for doing a lot of? unfortunately the lycanthropy came with a side effect of pretty bad arthritis, so that doesnt exactly encourage him. he DOES exercise, a lot since hes pretty much required for his ermm "side job", but he hates it 😸 besides the arthritis it’s mostly because I think it’s silly that he hates it. yay
#ummm a lot of what i talk about with my ocs are the character relationships but thats why i write. i like gossip. its fun. LMFAO#im actually having trouble deciding whether i want atlas to be a killer or not. like regularly killing i mean. hes definitely killed SOMEON#im really inspired by ginger snaps and scream. i dont even like scream that much but it reminds me of how they are. lol#scotch and atlas are pretty different but theres two things i see as themes. they both hate communication (and that causes conflict; so mor#avoiding). and the fact that scotch lives vicariously through atlas. atlas is doing#what scotch thinks is interesting. for pretty much the entire time; scotch likes to beg atlas to turn him. i think scotch sees the lack of#control he has over his life and sees lycanthropy as power. arguably thats why scotch is so attracted to atlas. lol#idk. thats not canon. im just thinking out loud here.#and yk it is power but not freedom. atlas would much rather just be a regular wolf. hunting and shit. but hes got these damn people here lo#but he sees what his life is like being a lycanthrope and hes kinda like. no. im not bringing that onto you. you dont know what youre askin#YOU KNOW? its goofy. i know. but its fun. LOL#if you (a general audience you but it can be you too grins) want to talk about scotch's confusion about his attraction to eloise we'd be#here all day. i think scotch is an egg. i dont know. i truly think theres some vicarious living (again) through her femininity.#and el is trans so he doesnt see her femininity as unattainable to him. you know? i hope that makes sense lol and im kind of projecting on#to him wif dat. to be honest. but obviously in the other direction. BWAHAH#asks#eucyon#thank u for da ask jesse this is so fun ^__^ and exciting that someone remembers their names HAH#after all this talking in the tags what I meant to say is that scotch and atlas both have sick intentions. it’s just that scotch doesn’t#act on them. and atlas does. so. living vicariously. ok
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Killer Instinct
× Playlist ×
“Beomgyu knows better than to get himself involved in that shady fight club you always warn him about— but he never listens to you, and despite how much you beg him to leave that place alone, you don’t find yourself to be too surprised when he starts bringing those same people you warned him about to you.”
MMA Fighter! Taehyun x fem!reader
Genre: underground fight club! au, mma fighter!taehyun, enemies to lovers, thriller/action, angst, smut
Word count: 37.4K
Warnings: general violence. (This is an mma au; fighting, blood, injuries, etc.) illegal activities (underground clubs, gambling, etc) older!mc (3 years gap), use of the word “noona”, talks about family issues, single parenting, tae is a little bitch, weapons, (knives, guns), stabbing, cigarette smoking, mc is also a bitch (they’re mean to each other), medical inaccuracies probably sksjsj, a bit of jealousy… mentions of bullying, mentions of power imbalance & manipulation, alcohol consumption, mentions of death & coping, mma inaccuracies bc i am not a professional!!
Smut warnings: dom!tae, sub!mc, mc is slightly bratty, manhandling, breast play, marking, biting, oral (f. rec), bro is a pussy fiend, (service top!tae? maybe?) hair pulling, scratching, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie(s)
Notes: i’ve worked on this stupid story for so long that i don’t even want to look at it anymore. (/hj.) another warning that idk anything abt mma, so there are definitely inaccuracies! features literally the whole idol industry,,, they're scattered like easter eggs.
The air is thick and foggy; Taehyun can already feel the sweat beginning to form on his brow the moment he enters, pushed around like a rag-doll from the full capacity of the room. No one bothers to spare him a glance— he’s a nobody, a clueless figure that’s given away from the sheer curiosity that breaks through his eyes. The poor boy is forced to hold in a cough as someone proceeds to blow cigarette smoke in his face; he hears a few mocking chuckles around him.
None of that matters, though. The flickering, weak lights overhead manage to spotlight his objective perfectly, his eyes lighting up with wonder as he feels a grin threatening to spread on his face; before him, two unknown men stand in a ring.
Taehyun’s muscles twitch in attention— his mind is racing, imagining himself in their place as he watches the two slowly circle each other, wondering what he would do if he were in their place; even from here, Taehyun can see the hungry look on one of the men’s faces, a bloody grin stuck on his face as he keeps his hands up and close— his hair is tied up and out of his face as he stares his opponent down.
It’s tense, wild even, as he finally swings, landing a punch to the other man’s stomach as the crowd around the ring roars— in approval or dread, he isn’t sure entirely. It’s a mixture of everything, men and women alike gesturing wildly as their screams blend in with the crowd; all to form a violent audience, closing in hysterically on the ring in hopes of getting a good view.
Taehyun feels adrenaline coursing through him— it’s contagious.
He fights the urge to try and push through, curious to see what might be going on as a sudden unanimous roar sweeps through the crowd. His eyes dart wildly, watching people celebrate, clapping each other on the backs as they cheer; others don't share the feeling, upset or even angry as he finds people being held back from trying to get on the ring— security is quick to put an end to it, though.
And as he slowly watches the crowd scatter, he sees the same man from before circling the ring, bloody and bruised as he walks back to the referee; his arm is thrust up by the official as his supporters cheer in victory. Eyes scanning the room, his eyes briefly land on Taehyun’s before he’s back to gloating, proud despite the clear beating he took himself.
Taehyun can feel his ambitious heart beat faster— he doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but he wants to be up there next.
The buzz of it all is quick to calm down; it’s as though nothing happened, and he notices the way the unconscious man gets picked up and carried towards an infirmary— taking in his condition, Taehyun shudders, trying to shake it off before he looks for his target.
“‘scuse me,” Taehyun says, voice rough and as confident as he can get it to be— he hopes the referee can’t see through his act of bravery. The man barely spares him a glance before he nods, seemingly able to see what he’s here for— the small quirk of his lips is more mocking than anything to Taehyun.
“What do you want, kid,” the unamused tone of the man before him isn’t very encouraging— for a moment, Taehyun almost feels foolish for stepping inside such a foreign ground without proper connections; he’s quick to push the feeling away, much too used to the patronizing looks he gets for being a newcomer.
“Get me in the ring,” he can’t seem unsure now— if anything, any ounce of hesitation will get him denied immediately. Taehyun is demanding, jaw clenched and gaze hard as he stares at the older man before him; his eyes narrow at the younger’s words, and for a second Taehyun wonders if he took the wrong approach.
“You got money to bet?” The older man’s words only bring excitement to Taehyun— he can’t hold back his eager nod, ignoring the man’s amused chuckles as he reaches into his duffle bag; carefully, he pulls out a thick wad of cash, allowing it to peek slightly out of his bag as he glances back up at the referee— judging by the smug look on his face, Taehyun is sure that what he’s brought is more than enough.
“Good boy,” the referee whistles, but Taehyun chooses to ignore his blatant mockery as he tucks the envelope back in.
“Jin,” the man introduces himself, offering his hand out in the introduction— Taehyun takes it, the smooth leather of Jin’s black gloves stained with blood as he holds the younger’s hand tightly; he tries to pretend that he doesn’t notice the blood smudge onto his skin, attempting to wipe it off without being noticed. “Let’s go get you on the registry, I’ll see if I can find another newbie for you.”
“Taehyun,” he says, following obediently as Jin weaves through the crowd effortlessly. Taehyun, however, isn’t as lucky, struggling to keep up as everyone seemingly goes out of their way to get in his path— it isn’t long before Taehyun resorts to pushing roughly through the faceless people.
“Newbie? I don’t—“ Taehyun grunts as someone shoulder checks him, turning to the side roughly as he attempts to keep his sight on Jin; slowly, he’s able to catch up, “Don’t put me up against a newbie.”
The curious glance Jin spares is enough for Taehyun to get the confidence to continue.
“Put me up with someone experienced— all or nothing.”
Jin can’t control the laugh that escapes him at the younger’s words; his head is thrown back, briefly catching the attention of those around him as he stops before the bar. Leaning against the wooden counter, Jin’s act quickly becomes unamusing to Taehyun as he’s forced to watch as the older man attempts to regain his composure. When he does, Taehyun can feel his jaw tick— pure mockery fills Jin’s eyes.
“You even know how to fight, kid?” Taehyun says nothing, afraid of what might come out if he chooses to open his mouth. But his steely gaze is enough for Jin, who reluctantly holds his hands up in surrender—he can tell there’s still a reluctance in the man to take him seriously.
“Fine, I’ll give you your money’s worth,” Jin mutters, glancing back at the black duffle bag that remains secured at Taehyun’s side, “from the amount you showed me, I’m sure I could get The Bear’s attention.”
“The Bear?” Taehyun echoed, frowning at the name. Jin only scoffs, rolling his eyes at the title.
“I know. Stupid, isn’t it? Whatever sticks, I guess,” the referee grumbled, clearly displeased at the thought of having to announce any ridiculous names— clearing his throat, Jin squared his shoulders as he shot Taehyun a smug smile.
“The one who just won— that’s The Bear,” Jin explains, narrowing his eyes as he gauged Taehyun’s expression, “I saw you staring— you stick out badly— and I know you wanna have a go at him.”
Solemnly, Taehyun nods— Jin only sighs at that.
“Of course,” he runs a hand through his hair, seemingly unfazed by the uncleanliness of his gloves, “everyone does.”
Taehyun wondered if Jin berated every newcomer like this— he wouldn’t put it past the referee, quite honestly. It hadn’t been long since they met, but this short amount of time had Taehyun wondering if the older man even wanted to be a part of this place; slowly, a fire lights in Jin’s eyes, leaving Taehyun confused as he watches the man let out a cruel laugh; his eyes were no longer on Taehyun’s, but instead at a very distant point behind him— one glance over his shoulder and he was able to see victor from before approaching— The Bear.
“Cocky, faceless fighters like you,” Jin calls out, bringing Taehyun’s attention back as the younger’s eyes meet his— something is threatening within them, and Taehyun wished that he didn’t feel a sense of danger lick up his body as a grin overtook the referee’s face, “I love watching them get put in their place.”
Taehyun was unable to say anything to that— Jin’s expression seemed to light up as he pushed himself off the bar, his gloved hand slapping on Taehyun’s shoulder, startling the boy as he felt himself turned around forcefully— any angry comments died on his tongue as Jin pulled him into his side, walking forward as he called out a foreign name: Beomgyu.
“Beomgyu!” Jin calls out, grinning wildly as he forces Taehyun to follow along. Like before, Taehyun is turned into nothing but a rag-doll, fighting back the urge to shake him off as they approach the man— he can feel the curious stares of the patrons dig into him, and Taehyun begins to wonder what he got himself into as Seokjin’s fingers dig into his shoulder— almost as though he were preventing him from running away.
One look at the man before him has Taehyun’s nerves on fire— were they really going to let him fight like this? The man before him is bruised and bloody, refusing to stop at the infirmary as he shrugs on his coat; slowly, a grin overtakes his features, a slight wince stopping him as his cut lip reopens— Taehyun can hear the man curse under his breath.
“Who’s this?” Though Beomgyu’s eyes remain on Taehyun’s, he’s not truly talking to the newcomer; Jin is quick to respond, shaking the young boy teasingly as he laughs.
“Taehyun,” Jin says, patting the boy’s shoulder as he glances at him, “says he wants to have a go at you.”
Beomgyu quirks a brow at that— he’s clearly amused, letting out a soft huff as he’s crossing his arms over his bare torso; Taehyun can already spot dark bruises forming in certain spots, his thin and reddened fingers tapping at his bicep impatiently as he surveys Taehyun.
“I don’t know,” Beomgyu drawls, tilting his head as though he were in thought, “I don’t wanna scare the poor kid off by giving him a good beating.”
This, Taehyun decides, is about all he can put up with; shrugging Jin’s hand off his shoulder, he scoffs, stepping forward and coming face to face with Beomgyu— the man isn’t even much taller than him, and he seems to be around his age too— yet the arrogance pours off him in waves, looking at Taehyun as though he were lesser than him— yet, he hasn’t seen what Taehyun can do.
Beomgyu doesn’t seem phased by any of this; it’s like the smug look on his face is permanent, his head held high as Taehyun takes a moment to survey him. The air is tense as the patrons at the bar become aware of what’s happening before them; it isn’t long before they’re all taunting either Taehyun or Beomgyu, encouraging them to fight in hopes that they’ll get another show.
“If anything, I should be the one worried for you,” Taehyun mutters, a fake look of sympathy crossing his face at the thought, his voice patronizing as he continues, “I wouldn’t wanna ruin your pretty face.”
A pause. Beomgyu’s jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing as he fights back the smile that itches to show; shaking his head, he scoffs, enjoying the way Taehyun’s fiery gaze seems to burn into his skin. He sighs— it’s long and labored, his head thrown back as he shakes his bangs out of his face— then he reaches out, clapping Taehyun on his shoulder as he looks at Jin, nodding in approval.
“Get us in the next best slot,” Beomgyu says, and the spectators seem to grow more excited with his every word. Glancing back at Taehyun, he smiles; it’s mischievous and sly, but Taehyun doesn’t allow it to get to him as he stands his ground. “I need to freshen up.”
The room is buzzing with energy as everyone seems to spread out, watching Beomgyu disappear into the locker room before they begin to bet on the results; Taehyun grimaces at the number of people who are already betting against him.
“Seems like you bit off more than you can chew,” Jin whispers, leaning in as he bumps against Taehyun playfully. “You got twenty minutes; pray if you need to.”
Taehyun grits his teeth as Seokjin walks back to the bar, leaning in towards the bartender as they talk, glancing back at Taehyun before they’re laughing and nodding— it doesn’t take a genius to guess what they’re talking about. Readjusting the strap of his duffle bag, Taehyun has no choice but to make his way into the locker room; he just hopes The Bear can save his temper for the match.
It wasn’t as though he wanted to provoke the man— if anything, it was the last thing he wanted to do. But, it wasn’t long before Taehyun realized that being nice wouldn’t get him anywhere; luckily for him, he didn’t truly mind.
The locker room is small, just as Taehyun expected; the lighting is dim and there isn’t much room to move due to the benches that line the walkways— Taehyun frowns at the inconvenient layout. At the end of the wall to his left, he finds a doorway to another room— he catches a glimpse of showers and bathroom stalls; the water runs on that side of the room, and Taehyun can already guess who might be behind the flimsy wall that separates them. Sighing, Taehyun looks for the nearest empty locker.
The sound of running water fills Taehyun’s head, blocking out everything else as he begins to think— attempting to remember all the moves Beomgyu used, trying to decipher his fighting style; his mind raced with different possibilities he could use to counter him.
“Hey,” Taehyun is ripped out of his reverie at the firm voice, his head snapping up at the realization that they were talking to him; turning around, he’s unfazed to find The Bear staring at him blankly.
“First time in the cage?” He asks, tilting his head as he surveys Taehyun curiously. Taehyun shakes his head in response, watching as Beomgyu only nods thoughtfully at that. It’s clear he took a moment to patch himself up, but it’s still strange to Taehyun that he’s willing to go for another match so soon— his cockiness only fuels Taehyun further.
“It sure does look like it.” Beomgyu doesn’t bother lingering around— he’s ready, clapping Taehyun on the shoulder before he’s walking away, heading back out as he spares Taehyun one last apathetic glance. “Don’t get your hopes up too much, ‘kay? I’ll even go easy on you.”
Taehyun says nothing. He can feel his jaw clench, trying his best to bite back another comment as he watches the older man exit the locker room; His fists tighten, the feeling of his hands tightening over the material of his wraps allowing him to calm down as he takes a steady breath. Sighing, his head is tilted back, eyes surveying the dim room for a clock— it isn’t long before he spots it above the doorway, calculating how much time he has left to prepare.
Ten minutes.
That’s more than enough for him.
⊹⊹⊹
The cage is freshly cleaned. It reeks of cleaner and is scuffed and old under Taehyun’s feet. He has no interest in hearing about the fight that went on before his— the bored mumblings of the spectators were enough for him to tune everything out. The seating area wasn’t that big, but it was enough for the people that were more than ready to gamble and waste away from alcohol as they watched; it didn’t take a genius to know that the regulations in the place weren’t very strict.
There’s someone new standing in the cage— a commentator, Taehyun realizes. He looks like he could be a fighter himself, but the fire in his eyes seems to be curated more for the thrill of commentating every detail of the fights before him. Words spill rapidly from his mouth, but Taehyun can’t bring himself to tune in; his bright platinum hair is glowing, even under the flickering lights, and the commentator’s names manages to slip through the walls of Taehyun’s concentration— Taeyong, with his co-commentator, Jeno.
It’s clear they’re here to do nothing more than build up tension, making useless comments that make the audience cheer or roar with disapproval. Taeyong is gesturing wildly, pointing to the fighter’s separate corners as he seems to be talking about them; Taehyun can feel the searing stares of the people around him.
Beomgyu stands across from him, his hair pulled back and his face gone dead as he stares at Taehyun— he doesn’t look away for a second. His hands are left at his sides, fingers clenching around his wraps as he tilts his head side to side; Taehyun hears the faint crack of his bones, even from where he stands. He frowns, beginning to feel antsy the longer the commentators take— from the corner of his eye, he sees Jin enter the ring, nodding to Taeyong and Jeno as they shake hands.
Taehyun takes a slow breath, jaw clenching as he feels his teeth bite into his mouth guard. He can feel his impatience growing the longer he stares at The Bear, watching as the man before him only smiles mischievously at him; he’s pacing around his side, eyes pinned to Taehyun as though he were a predator ready to strike.
The Bear’s eyes light up the moment the two commentators exit the ring.
Their voices still ring out through the speakers, spewing random things about the scene as Jin beckons the two to approach him.
“I want a clean, fair fight.” Jin begins, reaching out to clasp the two’s shoulders, “You know the rules. Protect yourself at all times, touch gloves if you want to.”
A beat passes as Jin glances at the two fighters— Taehyun does nothing; Beomgyu only grins at that.
Sighing, Jin backs away from the two, clapping his hands before he points back to their respective sides.
“Back to your corners,” Jin yells, huffing as he backs away, mumbling under his breath as he does so, “let’s get this over with.”
Taehyun’s hands come up instinctively, eyes narrowing as he waits for the familiar sound of the bell. Beomgyu does the same, his stance opening as an undeniable smile graces his lips; if Taehyun didn’t know better, he’d almost think this was nothing but a game to him.
His body tenses the moment the bell rings throughout the room, his mind racing as he watches Beomgyu begin to make his way to him.
Nothing happens at first; they circle each other, Taehyun’s feet pacing quickly around the cage as he waits for a good opening. The useless chatter of the commentators threatens to break his concentration, but he knows better than to pay attention to anything other than the man before him.
Beomgyu throws the first punch. A sharp jab is directed toward his head, but it doesn’t land as Taehyun sharply moves away. Everything changes in an instant; the moment Beomgyu puts his arm out is the moment Taehyun begins to look for a weakness. It’s a rapid flow of punches and dodges, the commentators making a fuss over everything as nothing connects properly.
Beomgyu’s punches are strong; Taehyun’s forearms ache at the impact, jumping back the moment Beomgyu attempts to land a kick— a liver shot, Taehyun realizes with a small smile.
The two boys are equally matched, and it isn’t long before the crowd catches onto that fact— suddenly the fight has become more interesting, and Taehyun can sense everyone’s eyes on them as he watches Beomgyu prep for another kick, the minuscule mistake of his rear hand coming down giving Taehyun the perfect opening.
Taehyun’s body twists violently, his right hand swinging around as he aims for Beomgyu’s head; the impact sends the crowd roaring.
He feels his fist come in contact with a wound from his previous fight, his brow splitting back open as Beomgyu winces at the feeling— he wobbles slightly from the shock, his eye squinting as blood begins to trickle down.
“You motherfucker,” Beomgyu’s lips read, snarling at Taehyun as his guard seems to be raised. His arms immediately come back up, protecting his head as another of Taehyun’s punches threatens to connect. With his body exposed, Taehyun is unable to stop the kick that shoots straight at him, at the same spot as before; He feels his vision blur for a second as his breath is knocked out of him.
Beomgyu is coming back for more as the last counts for the round are yelled out. Jabs and kicks are exchanged in rapid fire, and it’s all lost in a blur of motion as the two attempt to weaken the other— the bell rings, signaling the end of the round.
Back in his corner, Taehyun is surprised to find that Beomgyu has no coach. He’s just like him, forced to tend to his wounds and think of a new strategy on his own; Taehyun is surprised The Bear was able to land such strong hits with his vision impaired so badly.
Beomgyu is a ruthless fighter; he has technique and experience, and it seems that all mercy will fly out the window the moment he catches his opponent in a vulnerable spot— Taehyun just needs to make sure to not give him the opportunity.
“Ready?” Jin’s strong yell breaks through both of the fighter’s minds, and it isn’t long before Taehyun finds himself back in the center of the ring, adjusting his mouthpiece as he doesn’t bother paying attention to Jin’s rambles.
“Knock ‘em out Bear, get this over with,” it’s the only thing that catches Taehyun’s attention, the sharp glare he sends to Jin doing nothing as he’s told to go back to his corner— though he doesn’t miss the smug look that Beomgyu sends him.
The new round is immediate; there’s a fire in Taehyun’s eyes, his body pumping with adrenaline as he immediately approaches Beomgyu, unsurprised to find that he does the same. His breathing is slightly labored as the exhaustion from the last round seems to be catching up to him, but Taehyun doesn’t let the feeling deter him as Beomgyu attempts to deliver another kick; Taehyun counters it with one of his own.
Nothing seems to land properly; it’s beginning to frustrate Taehyun, but he knows not to let the feeling linger too long— he’s found himself cornered, and it isn’t long before he’s wrapped up in a clinch; The Bear’s limbs constrict his, tightening around him as he attempts to wrestle him to the ground, his punches directing jabs to his ribs and face— one connects roughly against his nose, and he can already feel the familiar liquid dripping out. It’s painful, but Taehyun doesn’t let the feeling overwhelm him as he tries to break the other’s hold on him.
Though he finds himself on the floor, he’s able to break away from The Bear’s grapple, shaking himself off as he backs away, attempting to reassess the situation before him.
Something shifts in his opponent.
Time is running out in the round, and they both seem to realize this as punches are delivered in a more rapid fire. Taehyun hates to think it, but The Bear’s technique is good as his hits begin to fly before him, struggling to keep up as he delivers a few of his own.
One lands against the side of Beomgyu’s head; it manages to break his concentration, the hook breaking through him as it connects harshly to the man’s jaw. Taehyun can already feel his body moving before he realizes, his body seemingly moving on its own like instinct. Beomgyu manages to get a jab of his own, but it does nothing against the next punch that has him stumbling back, his vision spinning as Taehyun continues to go after him, preparing for one final move.
A roundhouse kick— straight to his liver, stunning the man as he feels his body begin to scream at him from the impact, leaving Taehyun stumbling from his horrible footing. He’s only able to get a few more punches out before Beomgyu’s falling, the referee screaming at Taehyun to back away from him the moment he falls back.
Adrenaline fills Taehyun’s body the moment he processes everything.
The crowd roars at the spectacle; Taehyun doesn’t realize what he’s doing as he roams before Beomgyu— his wounds sting and his skin is red and bruised as he grins, teeth gritting against his mouthpiece as he smiles, not bothering to wipe away the blood that drips down from his wounds— the cage is stained with it, a mark of his territory as adrenaline courses through his veins; his eyes scan over the crowd, filled with people who were set on him losing— he can only laugh at the sight.
“Get up,” Jin yells at Beomgyu, attempting to break through the noise as he pats his cheek, “can you get up?”
Beomgyu’s nod is slow and defeated. He’s sitting up and leaning against the cage as the bell tolls like a deadly gong around him. Peering through his heavy lids, he sees Taehyun’s celebration, in a condition no better than his as he’s stumbling to the center to meet Jin.
“Impressive,” Jin admits quietly, and just like he’s seen before, his hand is thrust up as the audience cheers wildly, the proud grin taking energy from Taehyun as his posture slouches slightly.
Despite looking down at him, Jin looks surprised— impressed, even. The thought makes Taehyun smile as he tilts his head back, squinting at the bright lights that are hot on his skin, a long exhale leaving him as he laughs once more; he was just getting started.
⊹⊹⊹
Taehyun’s head feels as though it’s been split open; he doesn’t really remember what happened after his win.
He can’t bring himself to move, a deep sigh escaping him as he winces at the bright lights above him; the cot he lays on is stiff, the uncomfortable paper beneath him crinkling as he attempts to get slightly comfortable— his face is stiff with bandages.
Another fight seems to be going on outside; the annoying ramblings of the commentators seem to seep into where he is. Taehyun is too tired to linger around, so he attempts to put the last of his energy into sitting up properly— his thoughts are interrupted by the loud footsteps that approach the room.
“Beomgyu!” The voice is angry, growling with frustration as the door swings open. Taehyun attempts to look up at the sound, but it’s futile as the curtain around his cot obscures his view.
“Beomgyu, you fucker!” Taehyun winces— his head is throbbing at the intrusion, and his eyes shut tightly in hopes that the newcomer will shut up soon. “You little snake, you’re dead meat!”
“Can you please quiet down?” The voice that was once taunting and dripping with confidence is now gruff and tired— Taehyun can recognize that voice anywhere, and suddenly, his urge to leave is only amplified.
“Jesus, I don’t get why you always come here screaming like that,” Beomgyu says, exhaustion sowed in his voice, “It’s not like it’ll change anything.”
“Fuck! Look at you!” The woman pushes past all his irritated comments, and Taehyun hears both protests from Beomgyu and the crinkling of paper, “I can’t believe you, how the hell am I gonna explain this to your mother? You know she hates it when you sneak over here!”
“Chill with that, I can handle myself just fine,” Beomgyu scoffs, “You should be more worried about the other guy, anyway— gave him a good beating.”
Taehyun scoffs at that.
“The other guy?” The woman says, and before Taehyun can prepare himself, he hears footsteps approaching where he lays— the curtain is ripped away without warning, and Taehyun hisses at the lights that shine in his eyes.
“Holy shit!”
He’s not sure if he should be offended by that, but Taehyun keeps his eyes shut in hopes that the woman will simply turn her attention back to Beomgyu; he’s surprised to feel her approaching him more.
“Jesus Christ,” she mumbles, observing Taehyun as though he were a spectacle; Taehyun takes a deep breath, hoping that his patience doesn’t run out soon, “Beomgyu, you prick!”
“Hey,” Taehyun grumbles, brows twitching in frustration as he screws his eyes shut, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t scream in my ear.”
“Oh shit,” The woman jumps back at his words— almost as though she hadn’t expected him to be awake. One look at his angry expression has her quieting down, whispering a soft apology before she’s turning back to Beomgyu.
“You little snake,” she hisses, whispering angrily as she crosses her arms on her chest angrily, “you were supposed to come help unload the delivery today! You were the only strong one available that day, so imagine your mother’s surprise when you’re nowhere in sight!”
Peeking through his lids, Taehyun is able to catch a glimpse of the woman stomping over to Beomgyu, slapping his arm roughly as he yelps in response; the sight is almost amusing.
“I had to lie my ass off and say you were fucking studying!” Another rough smack is delivered to his arm, as though her mentioning the incident brings back pure rage, “Of course she didn’t believe me at first! So I volunteered to do it myself! My arms are so sore, you fucker!”
“Don’t seem sore to me,” Beomgyu grumbles, rubbing his bicep as he scoots away from the violent woman. “I’ll make it up to you, ___. I promise.”
The woman, ___, only shakes her head in disappointment. Turning back around, she stalks her way back to Taehyun.
“Sorry about his recklessness,” she says, and Taehyun’s eyes only widen as she bows in apology— he sits up, wincing as he awkwardly attempts to shake her off. Standing straight, she huffs, hands folded neatly in front of her as she sends him a polite smile.
“___,” she introduces, fishing in her pocket for something; a business card, he realizes. “Feel free to stop by for a meal— on the house. I promise we don’t condone that one’s behavior,” Beomgyu quietly dismisses her, saying that he’s not that different from me; his words don’t seem to reach her.
The card is cool and smooth in his fingers, and Taehyun nods softly as he watches her bow again; then she’s walking back to Beomgyu, sending him a sickly sweet smile as she leans in.
“Two hours. You better be back for the dinner rush. Or else,” wordlessly, she brings up a fist, slamming it into her open palm in a clear threat. Beomgyu gulps, the action not as subtle as he wished as he nods nervously. Straightening up, she smiles, ruffling Beomgyu’s hair before she leaves— it isn’t until then that Beomgyu clears his throat, calling after her hurriedly.
“Hey,” He yells, pointing at her accusingly— yet she doesn’t turn back around once, his words falling on deaf ears as they watch her retreat, “Stop giving out free meals like that, you’ll go broke doing this shit!”
Swiftly, she flicks him off.
Then, she’s gone.
Taehyun has to stifle a laugh as Beomgyu huffs in bewilderment, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide it the moment Beomgyu sends him a killer glare. From the corner of his eye, Beomgyu runs his hand through his hair desperately, cursing quietly to himself as he stares at the doorway, then glances back up at the clock— it’s silent save for the quiet mutterings of the man next to him.
The door opens again, and Jin walks inside.
“___ just left?” He asks, leaning against the doorway as he looks expectantly at Beomgyu; he nods, a frustrated look on his face at the very mention of the woman. Jin groans, shaking his head as he lets out a deep sigh.
“Damn. I promised Jungkook I’d try to make her stay a while.” Beomgyu sneers at that, throwing his pillow at the referee as Jin dodges it with ease, a squeaky laugh escaping him before he throws it back at the younger man.
“Tell him to go find her at that damn restaurant if he’s so interested,” Beomgyu snarls, rolling his eyes at Jin’s amused reaction. Laying back down, he pulls the curtains back around his cot, his voice muffled as he calls out, “And you better not be thinking about going for that free meal, newbie.”
It becomes Taehyun’s turn to sneer.
⊹⊹⊹
Beomgyu is dead meat.
It’s the only thought that runs through your mind, glaring at the cutting board beneath you as vegetables fly through your hands. All the background noise dies as you allow yourself to think, glancing back at the clock in hopes that the next hour will pass by quickly.
You’re not sure what led him to involve himself so deeply in that strange underground MMA club. It was dangerous and untrustworthy— you and his mother made sure to drill that into his head the first time you caught him messing around.
Even so, it seems as though your efforts only fall short in the end. No matter how much you team up with his mother, telling him that he should consider taking up the business in the future, or god forbid, actually focus on college, it always ends up in him shrugging you off dumbly, or waving you off as he tells you not to worry— he knows what he’s doing.
You’re on autopilot as you sift through the countless orders, the small open layout of the kitchen allowing you to peek at the entrance from time to time—all in false hopes of seeing the young boy you always pestered.
Two years isn’t much of a difference, but god, Beomgyu made it feel like it was sometimes. Most of the time you felt more like an older sister than an employee at his mother’s restaurant— it wasn’t your fault the man was quite the nuisance, your schedule becoming much more consistent and forcing you to see him practically all the time, and it wasn’t long before you found yourself wrapped up in the Choi family's personal lives.
Five minutes. You think to yourself, gritting your teeth as the next hour passes, you’ll give him five more minutes.
The next five minutes pass seamlessly.
Honestly, was two hours not enough? You get that Beomgyu was very particular about his appearance despite his interest, but two hours was more than enough for a person to patch themselves up and come back home. You attempted to not let your frustration show, averting your eyes the moment Ms. Choi appears in your peripheral vision, mumbling in curiosity about where her son might be.
Another five minutes pass— then, thirty. The restaurant is beginning to fill up as it always does, and you’re trying to hone your concentration in hopes that your undying rage won’t seep through your face. The sound of the bell ringing breaks through your thoughts, and you look up automatically to greet the new customer.
Your grip on your knife tightens.
“He—“ Ms. Choi gulps, her jaw dropping at the sight as she turns frantically to you. Taking in your expression she sighs, exasperated as she rubs at her face in frustration. “He wasn’t studying, was he?”
Making eye contact with Beomgyu, you allow your muscle memory to take over, cutting through the vegetables effortlessly as you grit your teeth, not looking away from him for a second.
“No ma’am.”
His mother is speechless as she scoffs in frustration, cursing at her son under her breath before she’s taking off her apron— you don’t bother glancing back at the younger boy as you turn back to your cooking, the sounds of the Choi’s hushed bickering reaching your ears as they go to the back.
It takes a while before Beomgyu emerges, patched up and pouting as walks up behind you.
“Where do you want me,” he says, petulant with his tone as he glances at the workers around him; they barely spare him a glance, all too used to his behaviors as they focus on their orders instead. You hum in thought, looking up from your stove as you survey the area— like always, Beomgyu has managed to sneak in toward the end of the rush hour; it’s not like you’re short-staffed in the kitchen, either.
“Go bus tables,” you say, rolling your eyes at the way Beomgyu whines at your words. He’s as annoying as ever, pulling at your sleeves in an attempt to get your attention as you refuse to look at him; shrugging him off, you hear him groan behind you.
“You never let me help in the kitchen,” he protests, and it takes all the strength within you to not turn around and smack him.
“If you arrived an hour earlier, you would’ve,” you hiss, waving him off, you walk past him as he opens his mouth to protest more, “get to work.”
His mumbles and whines still reach your ears as he exits the kitchen— and it only takes one sharp glare from you to shut him up. For the rest of your shift, all you can think is how spoiled this boy remains— he doesn’t know how lucky he is, watching as his mother finally grows soft on him, shooing him back to their home to rest as he meekly nods at her words, putting an act of weakness as he immediately leaves his position— but the smug smile he adorns as he hangs up his apron doesn’t go unnoticed by you.
Sighing, you glance back at the clock— two more hours, then you close.
⊹⊹⊹
“You’re still here?”
You refuse to respond to that— instead, you grit your teeth, scrubbing at a stain on the bar as you continue to pre-close. Beomgyu sighs, sitting at the bar as he leans on the counter, seemingly paying no mind to the damp wood that comes in contact with his sleeves. He’s desperate to get your attention, calling your name out softly as you continue to ignore him.
“Are you closing today? Why is it just you?”
“Sent everyone home. They helped enough.”
If the place remained as empty as it is now, the only thing you would need to do is clean the floors and machines— which takes little to no effort for you. Beomgyu shakes his head at your words, sitting up straight as he folds his hands in his lap.
“I’ll help,” his words are immediately met with a scoff from you, his brows furrowing as he watches you shake your head in amusement— you only laugh more as he softly questions why you’re laughing.
“Help?” You say, tilting your head as you finally look at him. Throwing the wet towel on the counter, you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you take a step back.
“I asked for your help— three hours ago. Yet you still chose to be a brat and go back upstairs the moment your mother pitied you. You—“ cutting yourself off, you sigh, shaking your head before you’re picking the wet towel back off, turning your back to him, “I hope you realize how much she spoils you.”
A twinge of embarrassment threatens to consume you due to your outburst, for the silence that follows after is entirely unexpected— usually, Beomgyu never knows when to shut his mouth. Then again, he never really knew what to say when the topic of his parent arose; he was afraid of saying something insensitive to you, you suppose.
Yet you refuse to be the one to cave in— you refuse to even make eye contact with him, walking out of the kitchen area as you go to wipe down tables; it’s then that the small bell above the restaurant door rings.
Mentally, you sigh— there was less than an hour left; nevertheless, you plaster on a cheery smile, straightening as you glance behind you and to the new customer; stiffening, you wince as you try to not let your surprise show through.
“Welcome,” you grit out, meeting eyes with the same man Beomgyu had beaten to a pulp a couple of hours ago— yet he seems perfectly fine, patched up and unphased as he sends you a somber nod, your worries that he’d be another bitter fighter that tracked Beomgyu down dispelled.
“You—!” Beomgyu is back to his awfully rambunctious self in a split second, twisted around in his seat as he sends the man by the entrance a sour look. “I told you not to come here!”
Taehyun pays no mind to the dirty looks Beomgyu sends him— if anything, he smiles, ever so casual in his demeanor as he goes to sit down; next to Beomgyu, of course.
“This place any good?” He asks, his voice gruff as he leans into Beomgyu cheekily, “you seem really eager to keep it hidden.”
“You kidding? You’re at the hottest spot in town,” Beomgyu scoffs, puffing his chest out as he leers at Taehyun “I doubt you’ve never heard of this place.”
Their conversation becomes nothing but a muffled mess to you. Their tension is unending as they converse, their eyes filled with a fire that suggests that they might just forget about the food and fight here and now— which is why you step in, not wanting to clean up after any more messes as you take Taehyun’s order.
At some point, you find yourself tuning back into their conversation— their rivalry is ridiculous, the tension rolling off in waves as you take a breath; Turning around, you go to place Taehyun’s order in front of him, reluctant to meet his eyes as you go to leave.
“Hope I didn’t scare you off today,” Beomgyu goads, ever the instigator as he rests his chin in his hand cheekily, “but then again, you did ask for it.”
Taehyun scoffs— it’s enough for you to turn back around, watching from afar in fear that Beomgyu will try to take things too far.
“Don’t act like you left the ring all perfect,” Taehyun tilts his head, brows furrowing as he inspects Beomgyu, “Remind me, who was it that won?”
You bite back a laugh at that, surprised to hear the results of the fight— it’s easy to do when Beomgyu is sitting up, a clear fire lighting in his eyes as he leans closer to Taehyun; his food remains untouched. You’re tense, watching carefully and waiting for a switch to flip inside Beomgyu; the last thing you want is for his mother to come down and find him in the middle of another fight.
Instead, Beomgyu smiles; it’s a small twitch of his lips at first, his mind clearly telling him to fight it off before it overtakes him, a bewildered laugh escaping him before he’s clapping Taehyun on the shoulder, the action so rough and sudden that Taehyun is flinching from his touch. Beomgyu doesn’t say anything, lost in his thoughts as he continues to laugh— you’re unsure if he’s getting ready to throw a punch or not.
“You…” Beomgyu grins, letting go of Taehyun with a sigh. He shakes his head, huffing in amusement before he continues, “I like you, you’ve got ambition.”
“The ring’s closed tomorrow, but it’s available for training. I’ve been needing a new sparring partner,” Beomgyu trails off, and Taehyun is quick to catch on as he frowns.
“Tomorrow?” Beomgyu nods in confirmation. It’s silent, and you’re making your way back to them as Taehyun seems to ponder it.
“You won’t be free tomorrow Beomgyu,” you say, grabbing his attention as you send him a warning smile, “You’re helping with a catering order, remember?”
Beomgyu, shameless like always, only tilts his head in innocence.
“Really? I don’t recall you telling me about it,” Beomgyu ponders, pouting slightly as you glare at him, “plus, I was told you would be fully staffed tomorrow— if anything, I remember my mother suggesting you give some people a day off.”
You have no patience to deal with his sly ways— your jaw clenches as you suppress the urge to jump at him from across the counter, crossing your arms over your chest as you raise a brow in disbelief.
“If you need help, you could always keep those people on standby,” you’re unsure of what annoys you more— Beomgyu’s smug look, or Taehyun, who has finally decided to eat his food as he watches the two of you, clearly amused by what’s happening before him as he doesn’t even attempt to hide his smile.
“Good idea,” you grit out, leaning toward the younger man as you smile, “I should let your mother know you’ll be out tomorrow then; I’m sure she’ll be wondering where you went off to.”
“You know, for a mere worker, you sure are involved in our personal lives.” Beomgyu’s words are hissed out and sting like acid as your eyes widen, gritting your teeth together as you watch Beomgyu sit back in realization— as though he didn’t know what he said until now.
“You’re right. Sorry,” you say, a gritted smile on your face as you go to fetch a takeout container; returning, you place it in front of Taehyun, ignoring his curious gaze as you send him a patient smile.
“We closed fifteen minutes ago; sorry, but you can take the food with you if you’d like— on me. I’ll be back, if you need anything let him know,” jerking your head to Beomgyu, you ignore his attempts to call your attention back to him as you bow politely, quick to excuse yourself to the bathroom in a weak attempt to soothe your hurt and anger.
The restaurant is quiet save for the soft ticking of a clock that hangs above them; a sound of warning as Taehyun glances subtly at the man next to him— whether Beomgyu picks up on it or not is beyond him. He’s frowning, bottom lip chewed and tugged at as he stares at the doorway which you disappeared through, a hand running repeatedly through his hair as he lets out a soft curse.
“What was that about?” Taehyun asks— whether or not he’s crossing a boundary, he’s unsure— but he does know that he truly doesn’t care enough to gauge the older man’s reaction. He’s quick to finish his food, surprised by the quality of it as he peeks at Beomgyu from the corner of his eye; watching the way Beomgyu seems to ponder whether or not to talk, inevitably giving in as he lets out a heavy sigh.
“I fucked up. Said something I shouldn’t have,” standing up, Beomgyu slides the stool he sat on back in, shaking his head as he goes to turn off the blaring open sign— he’s quiet, lost in thought as he carries out the usual closing duties.
“My offer is still open, by the way,” Beomgyu calls out, and before Taehyun can say anything, he clicks his tongue in frustration, “I doubt she’ll wanna see me tomorrow.”
Taehyun says nothing. Beomgyu doesn’t bother trying to convince him, muttering out a tired one p.m under his breath, unable to help the way his eyes travel back to the hallway you disappeared to now and then— it isn’t long before Taehyun is bidding goodbye, the offer left out in the open as Beomgyu is forced to sit with his own thoughts, ignoring the way his muscles ache or his wounds throb whenever he performs a certain task.
It takes a while before you come back out— you refuse to look at Beomgyu as the two of you clean in silence, your face left blank and cold as Beomgyu fails to decipher what you might be thinking; even though he wishes nothing more than to take back what he said, he finds his words stuck in his throat every time he looks at you.
You don’t bother saying goodbye when you leave.
⊹⊹⊹
“Were you lying when you said you’ve been in the cage before?”
Taehyun rolls his eyes at the older man's words, a scoff escaping him as he chooses not to answer. Beomgyu watches with amusement as the man before him looks away, neck tilting side to side as he feels it crack with ease. The air is hot and there isn’t much light coming in from the small windows atop the room, cracked open to let the cool wintry air inside. Yet it doesn’t seem to help a lot, the two men in the cage weathered down and sweaty from hours of sparring.
“You’re quite annoying, you know,” Taehyun grumbles, wiping away his sweat before he begins to stretch, preparing for another round as he looks back to Beomgyu— he seems unfazed by his comment, a smug grin overtaking him as he mimics his stretching.
“So I’ve been told,” Beomgyu pouts, straightening up as he waits for Taehyun to approach, “how long have you been doing this?”
Beomgyu has his own guesses as Taehyun throws a careless jab— he’s tired, not putting any effort into his movements as he dodges Beomgyu’s own hits with ease.
“Little over two years. It’s been nothing but a hobby until recently though,” Taehyun admits, stepping back as he puts his arms down, “didn’t know this place was a thing.”
“It’s been running for four years, actually,” Beomgyu says, sighing as he lowers his guard as well; he takes this time to rest, feeling the way his body is beginning to ache from the activity, “Jin and a couple others started it for fun. It’s only recently that things turned serious.”
Taehyun thinks of the referee— and his clear bias with Beomgyu— and frowns, realizing that the very same man he met yesterday was the owner of the building. Shaking his head, he sighs— then jumps back at the unexpected jab Beomgyu sends to him in warning.
He has no time to complain; his arms immediately come up for defense as Beomgyu seems to have regained his energy, a mischievous smile plastered on his face as he lands a hook on Taehyun— he groans at the feeling, stumbling back as he attempts to regain his composure.
Before he can regain stability, he’s pulled into another clinch— Beomgyu’s got him good, unable to keep his balance as Beomgyu pulls him into a tight chokehold; He’s trapped, unable to get away as he’s forced to tap out.
“You know, I’ve noticed quite a few things about the way you fight,” Beomgyu says, ignoring the way Taehyun gives him a pointed glare, “you give all your energy in the first round— you need to be able to conserve your energy, you know.”
Though all Taehyun does is roll his eyes, he secretly takes note of the older man’s comment; he noticed Beomgyu had been giving him pointers the entire time, and he would be a fool to not take advice from the club’s toughest fighter— Taehyun’s pride could only stretch so far.
Silently, they decide to take a break; there was no use in practicing if neither of them had the energy to throw a proper punch. Exiting the cage, Taehyun lets out a groan as he immediately takes a seat at one of the benches before him— annoyingly, his water bottle is empty again, and he’s forced to trudge to the only water fountain in the building that’s been placed all the way by the entrance; he grimaces at the thought of having to drink water from such a rusty old thing, but the dehydrated scratch of his throat isn’t giving him much of an option.
Taehyun isn’t too phased when the doors slam open; there have been a few other fighters that have come in while they were sparring, so he figures this must be another regular as he keeps his eyes on the water fountain— it isn’t until he hears haste footsteps and lows cursing that he looks up in curiosity.
“Of course he would be here,” you’re as irritated as always as you push past Taehyun without much more of a glance, your brows knitted together in annoyance as you make a beeline to the cage— Taehyun gets the privilege of getting front seats to the scene as he leans back in amusement, taking a sip of his cool water before grimacing at the taste.
“Hey!” You yell, jumping up on the outskirts of the cage and glaring at Beomgyu, who has the audacity to look up at you with puppy eyes as he lays spread out in the center of the ring, “do you always have to be here? Why don’t you go do normal things for once?”
Taehyun can hear you grumbling something about the long drive and shady district, but it’s left an unintelligible mess as he watches Beomgyu sit up, wincing slightly in the process.
“You knew I was gonna be here,” is all he says, ticking his head side to side as loud cracks ring throughout the empty building, “plus you’re acting like you couldn’t have called.”
You can’t seem to control the bewildered laugh that escapes you at his words, eyes widening as you jump back down from your place; crossing your arms, you sit down at a bench, jaw clenched as you shoot Beomgyu a lethal glare.
“You think I didn’t try?” You ask, crossing your legs as you tap at your bicep in annoyance, “your phone is always in the damn locker room!”
“Alright, whatever!” Beomgyu says, throwing his hands up in defeat, “what do you need now.”
“Two of our workers called off. Your mother wants you to come back and help with the catering order,” you say, your gaze cold as you watch Beomgyu begin to whine at you, giving you excuses that you don’t bother to listen to as you shake your head.
“Listen to your mother and go. Quick,” you say, not wanting to linger any longer as you stand up, leaving without so much as a goodbye as you’re rushing back out again.
“Yeah, listen to your mother,” Taehyun teases, raising a brow as you snap your head towards him, delivering a cold glare that only makes Taehyun grin, much to your annoyance; he can hear you muttering curses under your breath as you slam the doors open, the sound of your rambling only amusing Taehyun further as he makes his way back to Beomgyu.
“Crazy how you let yourself get pushed around like that,” Taehyun knows he’s only instigating, but it’s amusing to watch the older man get worked up as he simply huffs in annoyance, cursing under his breath in the same manner you did— he can see where Beomgyu gets his short temper from.
“I don’t.” he snaps, but the way he’s already beginning to pack up says otherwise; there’s defeat in all his actions as he becomes sluggish, trudging to the locker room where he reluctantly begins to change, “come back here tomorrow, same time— I need to show you something.”
Beomgyu leaves shortly afterward— the annoyance in his mood has yet to go away as he glances back at the ring one last time, watching solemnly as Taehyun continues to shadow box without him. For a second, he almost considers dropping his responsibilities and going for another round, but your fiery and threatening voice echoes in his head, allowing him to finally leave as a shiver goes through his body.
⊹⊹⊹
“Stupid workers… making me clean up after their mess…” Beomgyu thinks he might go insane if he has to pack another to-go tray filled with the same order, his mind fried and his hands on auto-pilot as he watches you busily cook out of the corner of his eye. You’re as stone-cold and intimidating as always, sending Beomgyu a sharp glare every time you catch him slacking off— it’s eerie, the way you can almost sense it, never giving Beomgyu a break as you stress the fact that you need to have the order done by the next thirty minutes.
He’s almost done, so he doesn’t feel as rushed as you do— then again, you may just be on edge due to the fact that you’ve been pulling the weight of the two workers that called off as well as your regular tasks; the sight is enough to have Beomgyu irritated once more.
You work way too hard for your own good; it’s a fact that Beomgyu always calls you out on, but you’re always just as quick to dismiss it as you shake your head in denial, telling him that he’s overreacting. Yet, as he watches you now, stressed and irritated, he can practically feel himself biting his tongue to prevent calling you out on it.
The catering order is finished with ease; Beomgyu can feel a weight lift off him the moment a delivery person takes the order from him— the same can be said for you— and he’s almost ready to leave when his eyes catch sight of a new patron that walks in.
The place has calmed down a bit, so it’s relatively empty— meaning, there should be no reason for Beomgyu to linger around anymore. Yet, he can’t help but be nosy and stay as he watches Jungkook beeline towards you, confident and handsome as always as he sends you a beaming smile.
“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” you remark sarcastically, leaning against the bar counter as you match Jungkook’s mischievous grin, “the usual?”
“You know me so well,” Jungkook coos, and the exchange is enough to have Beomgyu straightening up— he’s never seen Jungkook at the restaurant before, let alone the two of you talking so casually to each other.
Neither of you seem to catch Beomgyu’s analytic stare, much too caught up in your own world to notice anything around you; even the new customer that comes in through the door, trudging over to the bar as he sits a few seats away from Jungkook— Beomgyu is the first to notice as he quickly makes his way over.
“The hell are you doing here?”
The smile Taehyun sends is pure evil as he leans on the bar, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he raises a brow at Beomgyu’s pointed question.
“Here to eat, what else?” Beomgyu says nothing in response, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed as he takes Taehyun’s order, “and if you’re done eavesdropping on their conversations over there, I’d like to know what you were talking about earlier— I’m not exactly free tomorrow.”
The man’s words are enough to have Beomgyu standing straight, sending Taehyun a glare as he grits his teeth at the comment. “Am not.”
“Come on, be slick about it at least,” Taehyun sighs, eyeing the two of you from the corner of his eye, watching as you continue to converse with the customer— it takes a moment, but Taehyun is able to recognize the patron as he looks back at Beomgyu, pointing their way as he asks, “the hell is the bartender from the club doing here?”
“That’s Jungkook,” Beomgyu mutters, putting his notepad away as stops to watch the two of you carefully for a second, “and that’s what I’m wondering myself. It’s clearly not to eat.”
“Yeah, who gives a fuck,” Taehyun grumbles, watching as Beomgyu reaches in his pocket for a piece of paper— pausing, he takes a second to examine Beomgyu, biting his lip as he fights back a smile, “hey, you jealous?”
“Shut up,” Beomgyu groans, rolling his eyes as he turns his back to you, jaw clenched as he narrows his eyes at Taehyun, who’s only left smiling in return, “she’s basically family, don’t even assume shit.”
“Not what you said last time I was here,” Taehyun’s words have Beomgyu pausing entirely, forced to take a second to breathe as he takes in the younger man before him.
“You’re an instigating little bitch, huh?” Is all Beomgyu can utter, watching as Taehyun simply laughs at his words, clearly unaffected by Beomgyu’s anger, “you better keep your mouth shut if you wanna stay in here.”
“Alright, do your thing,” Taehyun sighs, putting his hands up in defeat. A moment passes, and Taehyun huffs out a laugh, his eyes falling to the piece of paper Beomgyu pushes forward before he continues, “This better be good.”
Beomgyu watches as Taehyun begins to scan the paper, turning away so he can put the younger’s order in as he does. Once finished, he pauses, leaning against the wall as he waits for Taehyun to finish—Taehyun can practically feel the said man’s stare burn into his skin as he reads the information carefully, eyes widening as takes it all in; looking up, he finds Beomgyu’s eyes effortlessly.
Folding the paper back up carefully, Beomgyu makes his way back over, surprised you haven’t swooped in and asked what’s going on yet; hurriedly, he gets tries to get his point across, leaning in close to Taehyun and sending him an excited smile as he watches Taehyun open his mouth to ask questions immediately.
“How did you find this?” He asks, searching Beomgyu’s eyes as he watches the older man take the flier back, running his fingers over the creases in an absentminded attempt to smooth them out, “who gave you this?”
“Old friend of mine.” Beomgyu says, leaning back as he watches Taehyun do the same, crossing his arms as he watches Beomgyu with scrutinized eyes, “thought you’d be interested in this.”
“You’re inviting me? Letting me in on this?” Taehyun asks, frown only deepening as Beomgyu nods innocently, “what makes you think I won’t just win the tournament and take the prize money for myself?”
“That is a possibility,” Beomgyu hums, “but that’s also what makes it fun.”
“The hell is this? FightX?” Beomgyu can’t help the way he jumps as you appear behind him, looking over him as you reach to grab the flier from his hands. Beomgyu, in a weak attempt to distract you, attempts to call Jungkook over, trying to snatch the flier back while doing so; his attempts fail miserably as he watches the way your eyes grow wide.
“Are you kidding me?” You say, taking the flier and tucking it away in your own pocket smoothly. Beomgyu only sighs, used to your antics as Taehyun can only watch with an amused look in his eyes, ever as eager to poke the bear as he finds your anger intriguing.
“Beomgyu, I swear to god that if I see or hear anything about you in that FightX club, I’ll kill you myself.” Your hands are tense as you cross them over your chest, giving Beomgyu a pointed glare as you continue, “I don’t care about you going to Seokjin’s little place— but if you even try to go to that tournament—”
“Hey, relax, won’t you? You wouldn’t even know what goes on in a place like that,” Taehyun’s words are enough to have your eyes widening, mouth parting in surprise as you slowly turn to the man; beside you, Beomgyu shakes his head in warning, sending Taehyun a warning glare as he mouths the words shut the fuck up.
“What did you just say to me?” You ask incredually, leaning forward and against the counter as you examine Taehyun carefully; the man is nothing more than amused as he smiles innocently at you, standing his ground as he tilts his head like a puppy, “who are you, anyway?”
“Someone who knows way more about what goes on in that club than you,” he says softly, a tired tsk leaving him as he takes in the twitch of your brows, watching the way you try to keep your expression neutral, “you don’t need to worry about what Beomgyu does in his personal time.”
You’re left speechless as you press your tongue against your cheek, huffing out a bewildered laugh as you take a step back; glancing at Beomgyu, you narrow your eyes at him, watching as he simply attempts to diffuse the situation with stuttered excuses and a nervous laugh, his behavior changing drastically under your heated gaze.
“I warned you.” is all you say, not bothering to regard Taehyun at all as glare at Beomgyu, turning on your heel as you hear a coworker call your name for your help.
“What the hell man?” Beomgyu whispers, turning to Taehyun with wide eyes; the man simply shrugs, unphased by the tension as he sighs tiredly. Mind muddled with everything that just happened, he’s quick to find himself untying his apron; he’s done what you’ve asked, and he doubts that you’ll be able to force him to stick around now— especially after the confrontation you just had.
“FightX? Yo, you’re not planning on going, are you?” Jungkook is slow to the scene as he takes a seat next to Taehyun, recognizing him as the new fighter from a while ago as he nods to him in greeting; turning to Beomgyu, he raises a brow as he waits for him to respond.
“I don’t know. The prize money’s no joke,” Beomgyu admits, holding onto his apron as he narrows his eyes at Jungkook, who’s only shaking his head in dismay.
“The prize money is like that for a good reason,” Jungkook warns, nudging Taehyun as he tells him to listen as well, “that place is dangerous. Both the fighters and the patrons are something else, and if you don’t have connections to the right people…”
The way Jungkook trails off is enough to give the two younger men a gist of what he means, the troubled look in his eyes disappearing as he watches you pass by— his signature smile is back as he pats Taehyun on the back, sending Beomgyu a look before he’s standing up, ready to go to where you’re at now.
“Use your brain for once and think this one through, yeah? And you,” Jungkook says, nudging Taehyun before he leaves, “stop putting our most valuable asset in danger.”
The way Jungkook goes to you is reminiscent of a puppy, the two men watching as he goes back to shamelessly flirt with you— you seem unphased, rolling your eyes as you try to hide your smile of amusement all the while.
“Think this through,” Taehyun chimes in, bringing Beomgyu’s attention back to him, “you seem to have connections— plus, I think it’d be fun.”
The offer becomes more tempting as Beomgyu recalls the prize money that comes along with the win, and Beomgyu is left with more uncertainty than expected as he thinks back to the warnings that came along with it.
⊹⊹⊹
Beomgyu hasn’t been home today.
He’s never home, really, so the fact should be no surprise to you. But there’s something about today that leaves you on edge, your leg bouncing under the table as you hide your unease with a shaky smile.
“You’re such a hard worker,” Beomgyu’s mother sighs, pouring you a cup of coffee as she makes her way back to where you sit at the dinner table, “I can’t thank you enough for what you do.”
“I should be the one thanking you,” you say, taking the warm mug from her, trying to hide your shaking hands as you cup the dish tightly, “For giving me this opportunity. For giving me a home.”
The Choi family was the only reason you were still alive and healthy; if it weren’t for them, you’d probably still be on the streets, dependent on the money that came from shady clubs filled with dangerous people.
That was the only reason you met Beomgyu— you had just finished a fight of your own as you stumbled out of the infirmary, barely patched up as they began the men’s lightweight division fights; you only wanted to stay and bet on the fight before you before you left with the rest of your earnings, curious as to how the match before you would end.
To say the crowd loved it was an understatement; they were sick people, and the moment they realized that one of the most experienced lightweight fighters was currently pitted against a scrawny sixteen-year-old boy, the betting pool practically tripled within seconds.
You‘ve never seen him before; it was clear to you that he was new within seconds of watching him in the cage, from his unsure missteps, to the way his arms didn’t come down from his head for a second, wide eyes watching carefully for any opening available.
He got beat and knocked out within minutes; the match had been more of a joke to those watching than an actual fight. His injuries were nothing to laugh at however, the cage floor littered with his blood as nurses rushed out of the infirmary for him, picking him up and carrying him away as the patrons around you remained unphased at the sight— you still remember wincing as you took in the state his opponent left him in.
It was a general consensus within the ring that those more experienced shouldn’t be too harsh on newbies— simply out of respect for one’s opponent. But respect didn’t exist in such a place— if anything, respect wasn’t even earned after countless grueling matches in a place like FightX; it didn’t matter if you were good, the only thing that mattered was the number of wins under your belt and how much cash you walked out of the place with— which is why the patrons of such a club knew better than to mess with you.
This was no place for a child, you remembered thinking to yourself, scoffing at the way people continued to berate and talk about the loser of the previous match. Rolling your eyes, you figured it was better to leave now than to stick around and have shady people try to strike up deals with you— wanting to become your manager, to move you further up the ladder, to share profits with you.
It usually wasn’t a problem for you to leave; if anything, regulars knew better than to get in your way after you’ve had your fill of fights— but it had been different that day, left to push your way through as a commotion began to form at the entrance.
“Woah, who the hell is this?” The speakers above you were booming with the commentator’s sneering remarks, the current fight before them no longer a priority as the screams of a woman tore through the crowd.
“Please, please tell me he’s here,” the ruckus was beginning to become more of a headache to you than anything, pushing through the heaps of people in an attempt to get past the dramatic scene and back home— “home” consisting of a random motel that was cheap enough for this week’s earnings— only to pause once you were able to take in the woman’s helpless state.
This was someone’s mother, you realize, raising a brow as you take in the way her eyes are wide with fear and worry, brimming with tears as she attempts to put on a brave front. The mocking commentary of the men continue to boom over the speakers as those around the older woman ignore her or tell her to get lost, not bothering to listen to her words as they immediately turned their backs to her.
The boy’s mother. You realize, taking a deep breath before you walk toward the woman, grabbing onto her bicep tightly in order to gain her attention. She seemed more than ready to brush off your grip and fight to stay, but upon taking in your solemn appearance, she paused, her mouth parting as she no-doubt became ready to ask the same question she had been asking everyone else.
“Your son is over here,” you sigh out, tugging her along wordlessly— at your claim, she quickly follows, asking endless questions that you can’t even seem to keep up with.
“Tall, scrawny, long hair?” You ask, glancing back at her to catch her nodding incredually, “around sixteen?”
Once again, she nods, her gesture only making you sigh once more as you ignore the pressing stares of those around you.
“Yeah, he’s this way,” you say, finally arriving at the infirmary as you’re left to scan all the cots around you; his mother seems to spot him first, exclaiming loudly before she leaves your side to run to him.
The sight is enough to have you clenching your jaw as you lean against the doorway, arms crossed defensively over your chest as you watch the boy’s mother cry and scold the barely conscious boy. It was clear she cared for him, and the sight was foreign to you as you found yourself frozen in one place, forcing yourself to spectate a scene that you knew you’d never experience for yourself.
You stuck around to help the woman take her son home, listening quietly as she turned to scold the boy, huffing once in a while as she observed the way you effortlessly helped him walk with an arm thrown over your shoulder— the patrons around you were wise enough to keep their comments to themselves as they flinched at the hard glares you gave them.
“Don’t come back here kid,” you remembered telling him, dropping him in the passenger’s seat of his mothers car, rolling your eyes as he incoherently attempted to argue with you, “this place is too dangerous for someone like you.”
“And you?” His mother’s words had been enough to snap you out of your dazed state; looking up, you had been surprised to see his mother staring at you with the same concern in her gaze, her head tilting as she scanned your bruised skin and tired face, “will you be alright here?”
Her concern had been unexpected— so much so that you couldn’t help the way you laughed softly at her words, shaking your head as you ignored the strangely warm feeling that bloomed within you from her concern.
“I know how to handle myself here,” you told her, jaw clenching as you watched the way she remained unconvinced. Slowly, you watched her reach in her jacket pockets, fishing around for something until she finally found it, a small ah, escaping her mouth before she finally offered you the object with polite hands; you stared at the business card she handed you, unsure of what to do until you finally accepted it after a pause.
“Thank you so much for your help today,” she says, bowing gratefully as she looks at you with a kind smile, “if you’re ever hungry, you can always stop by. On the house.”
The laminated card feels smooth under your fingers as you absentmindedly accept her offer, unsure of how to react to her kindness as she thanks you again; you try to ignore the way her eyes are coated with concern and pity, the emotions within you nothing but bitter as you watch her drive away.
Shoving her card into your jacket pocket, you sigh, turning on your heels and walking back to the cheap motel that you knew was too shady to stay at for too long. If you win another match tomorrow, you might be able to stay at the better motel just a few blocks over.
The thought was promising as you made your way back, your muscles aching and your stomach growling as you inevitably thought back to the free meal that boy’s mother promised you.
Maybe tomorrow, you thought, pulling the card back out of your pocket to examine it, you should treat yourself after tomorrow’s fight.
⊹⊹⊹
Your life had taken a surprising turn after that day— now you found yourself here, sitting in the home of the Choi family, welcomed as always and reformed of your ways of fighting— you only wish the same could be said for Beomgyu.
“So,” you say, clearing your throat as you try to get the nerves out of your tone, “Where’s Beomgyu at?”
“Oh,” she sighs, slumping down in the chair across from you as she takes a sip from her cup of coffee, “God, I don’t even know— he left really early today, didn’t even bother to let me know— he hasn’t been back since.”
The news was odd to you; it was late already, but Beomgyu wasn’t the type to be up in the mornings, much less make any plans. You took a second to process her words, nodding absentmindedly as you took another sip from your drink— the flier you took from him seems to be weighing your pocket down now more than ever.
He wouldn’t, the more forgiving part of you thought, he knows better than to go off to a place like that.
But the more skeptical part of you knew better; Beomgyu was always one to be swayed easily, and with that new sparring partner of his, your trust in him only seemed to dwindle more and more.
Taehyun had only proved himself to be a danger to Beomgyu— especially if he was so eager to get himself into a place like FightX.
Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted when the sound of a phone ringing echoed throughout the room; blinking wildly, you allow Ms. Choi to excuse herself as she leaves to answer the phone— you take this chance to take the flier out of your pocket, unfolding it carefully as your fingers smooth over the wrinkles.
Reading it carefully, your eyes widen, biting at your lip as you feel your heart beginning to beat faster.
It was tonight.
And it started two hours ago.
You don’t give much of an explanation to Ms. Choi as you’re standing abruptly, making your way to where she stands at the kitchen to say goodbye— you can see the confusion and concern swim in her eyes at your suddenness, but you hope that the bright, carefree smile you send her is enough to soothe her as you apologize for leaving early.
It’s scary how easy it is for you to make your way to that club— despite it being years since you last stepped inside, you can still feel instinct take over as you’re speeding off to the tournament.
If Beomgyu’s still alive by the time you get there, you’ll kill him yourself.
Clenching your jaw, you pray that there are no cops around as you speed through the empty streets, your only priority clouding your mind as you run past a few red lights.
And his little friend too.
⊹⊹⊹
Beomgyu’s body feels like it’s been set alight with anxiety.
He’s pacing around the locker room, attempting to control his breathing as he focuses on his next opponent; on his fighting style, on how to beat him.
He’s been in this position many times— it’s like second nature to him, only the new setting seems to be affecting him more than he expected. It’s not like he’s never branched out to other underground fighting tournaments before; he’s been all around the city and even outside of it, trusting Seokjin’s judgment as he made a name for himself through it— in a way, Seokjin had almost been like a manager to him.
But he hasn’t been here in years; six years, to be exact. He can still feel the danger that looms through these walls, feeling more trapped than anything as memories of his first match come to mind— a primal fear is prominent in every single one.
Beomgyu is much more different than he was six years ago— both in muscle and mentality, he knows how to handle himself in such a shady place. Yet, he can’t help but remember your warnings, his brows furrowing as he feels his heart pound a little harder against his chest.
“You overthinking things again?” Beomgyu’s spiraling train of thought is interrupted as he snaps his head over to the doorway, meeting eyes with Taehyun who sports a bright smile, much more relaxed and excited than he is.
“Can’t help it,” Beomgyu admits, sighing heavily as he turns to stretch instead, “new territory.”
“Thought you had connections to this place?” Taehyun asks, tilting his head as he listens to Beomgyu explain that while it is true, he still isn’t experienced with this club.
“Don’t think about it too much,” Taehyun says, making his way over as he sits at the bench near Beomgyu, “the bracket looks easy today.”
The plan was simple; make it to the end of the bracket, where Beomgyu and Taehyun would inevitably have to fight each other— the earnings would be split between the two after.
Just makes the odds of earning the prize money higher, Beomgyu had explained once Taehyun began questioning his motives, that way, both of us win, and get experience out of it.
The prize money was already so grand that even half of it seemed more than enough for Beomgyu— and of course, the thought of returning to such a place and finally winning a grand tournament was thrilling to Beomgyu.
The things he could do with the prize money were endless— he already had a few ideas in mind, thinking back to his hardworking mother and how much she struggled to raise him on her own while still managing her restaurant. Then he thought about you, of the hard times he gave you, knowing how much you feared him going through the same things you did, of turning to a life dependent on fighting and gambling.
“Hey hey, focus,” Beomgyu is blinking rapidly as Taehyun claps in front of his face, laughing at the way the older man managed to zone out once more, “you’re up in three minutes, you should prepare yourself.”
Beomgyu is nodding absentmindedly as he watches Taehyun exit, still feeling nerves creeping up his system as he wonders if this is all such a good idea; then his name is called, and the referee pops in to ask if he’s ready.
“Yeah,” Beomgyu finds himself saying, feeling as though he’s lost control of his body as he’s walking out of the dimly lit locker room, “lets go.”
⊹⊹⊹
“Hey, I know we haven’t talked in a while but— yeah, no need to remind me,” your voice is low and your footsteps are echoing as you walk through puddles, the smell of rain still lingering in the air as you weave your way through dark alley— the feeling is oddly reminiscent as you find yourself laughing along with your old friend on the phone.
“No, it’s serious stuff,” you sigh, turning the corner as you find the place you’ve been dreading to step inside of. A small shop meets you, the lights off and the gates closed around the windows— the unassuming shop makes your stomach churn with dread, approaching it slowly before you’re walking around its perimeter.
“You’ll never guess where I’m back at right now— yup, the very one,” your friend’s incredulous laugh booms over the line as you let out some bitter chuckles yourself, rounding towards the back as you see a deep, ominous stairwell; faintly, you can hear the brutish screams and commentary leaking through, the sound only beginning to worsen as time passes; the sound has a deep sigh leaving you as you begin the long descend into the basement.
“Listen, I need you and your men to be here on standby— I’m serious, you think I’d joke about this stuff?” You finally reach the bottom as you pause at the very last step, staring at the metal door that’s left at the end of the corridor.
“Thanks. I’ll call you if I need you to come in,” you say, bidding your goodbye before you’re finally hanging up, tucking your phone in your back pocket before you’re taking a final, deep breath.
Hopefully I won’t. You mutter, reaching forward before you’re finally opening the heavy, metal door.
⊹⊹⊹
Beomgyu feels dizzy.
The bracket looks easy today, Taehyun’s voice echoes in his head as he rests against the ring’s ropes, the layout different to what he’s used to as he takes a moment to recollect himself.
Easy— the fuck was Taehyun talking about? Beomgyu feels left out as he watches his opponent talk with his coach, discussing strategies and glancing back at Beomgyu, who’s left on his own as he takes the opportunity to stretch.
He just needed to beat the man across from him, then he was officially in the finals. The thought was the only thing that soothed him as he scanned the crowd for Taehyun, finally finding him right at the front; he was just as tired and beat as Beomgyu was, but the encouraging smile he sent Beomgyu managed to keep him on his feet a little longer— the prize money loomed over his head as he watched the referee call the next round, the fighter before Beomgyu gritting his teeth against his mouthpiece as his coach yelled at him to knock Beomgyu out.
His opponent became predictable fairly quickly— Beomgyu’s arms came up to his head for defense as the man attempted to jab at him, only to slide down to his sides and squeeze as his opponent attempted to land a hook to his side; at his liver, to be exact.
Chenle, Beomgyu remembers the commentators announce, his name was Chenle.
He looked to be around his age, if not younger. The man before him was energetic and strong, but seemed to get too excited during the rounds; it seemed as though he only came into the ring with one tactic in mind, and remained persistent to knock his opponent out in one specific way— it seemed he targeted Beomgyu with liver shots.
His punch was quite lethal— Beomgyu would know, because he fell victim to his attack in the first round. If anything, he still feels as though his mind is all muddled as he shifts away, avoiding the man’s attempt to get him cornered before he’s throwing a few quick punches himself.
It doesn’t take long before Beomgyu is able to turn the match around, however. Chenle seems to be very poor in adapting to an opponent’s fighting style, and Beomgyu is quickly able to pull him into a chokehold that has him tapping out within seconds— without his hooks, Chenle was practically useless.
All this fighting had taken a toll on Beomgyu— he’s sure it showed as well, panting like a dog as the referee thrust his hand into the air, the commentators announcing him as the winner over the speakers: The Bear wins again.
Beomgyu could see why you attempted to dissuade him from going to such a place as he takes in everyone’s reactions— the good, the bad, and the dangerous. From the corner of his eye, he can see Chenle stumbling back to his coach, the two clearly bitter and angry as they whisper plans to each other— Beomgyu shivers involuntarily as their glares land on him, his gut telling him that they’re up to no good as the referee finally lets go of his wrist, quick to exit the ring and get as far from them as possible.
“Hey, we made it,” Taehyun grins, clapping Beomgyu on the shoulder as he laughs with joy— only to apologize as Beomgyu winces, his hand coming off in a second, “Our fight’s in thirty minutes, go rest and clean up— I don’t wanna have to go easy on you now.”
Absentmindedly, Beomgyu nods, ducking his head and making his way back to the locker room as he tries to ignore the stares of those around him— he can practically feel his body become alight with nerves by the time he’s back in the dark locker room, his heart pounding and his hands shaking as he begins to wonder if all your warnings have made him paranoid.
It must be the adrenaline, he thinks to himself, undoing his hand wraps and wincing as he stretches his cramped muscles, yeah. adrenaline.
He can’t help the way he groans as he makes his way to the bathroom area— all this fighting has taken a heavy toll on him, and he quickly finds that he’s already begun to sprout plenty of injuries and bruises as he finds his reflection in the mirror; his eyes remain downcast as he goes to wash his hands, sighing as the cool water splashes against his skin.
“I’m telling you, you were great!” Beomgyu can’t help but hear the conversation that begins to leak into the locker room, frowning at the way the second person begins to complain and yell angrily— the sound is enough to have Beomgyu on guard, straightening up slowly as he quickly turns the sink off.
“No, I wasn’t great— I fucking lost!” He jumps at the sound of something striking hard against the lockers— Beomgyu can feel his stomach sink with dread as he realizes that it must be Chenle that walked in— he’s able to recognize his voice fairly quickly.
“I know, I know— It’s odd, really, you weren’t supposed to have…” Beomgyu feels like he’s unable to breathe as the manager walks into sight, locking eyes with him through the reflection in an instant as he immediately stops talking; Chenle’s irritated what? Is enough to have Beomgyu snapping out of his daze, turning around as he watches the boy’s manager let out an exasperated laugh.
“Hey,” Chenle begins, spotting Beomgyu as he quickly makes his way to him— Beomgyu remains silent, his eyes narrowed coldly as he tries to make a point that he’s not intimidated, “what the hell was that about back there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beomgyu mutters, watching as Chenle scoffs, turning away for a second to compose himself.
“The match,” Chenle clarifies, enunciating each syllable as though Beomgyu were incapable of understanding, “you were supposed to throw it.”
The words are definitely news to Beomgyu; he’s sure it shows on his face, because Chenle only seems to grow angrier by the second, Beomgyu’s silence only irritating him more as he runs a stressed hand through his hair.
“Don’t act fuckin stupid,” Chenle spits out, pushing Beomgyu’s chest and taking him by surprise as he stumbles back into the sink, “We had our deal. Give me back the money I gave you.”
“You have the wrong person,” Beomgyu says slowly, attempting to remain calm as he briefly looks over Chenle’s shoulder, and at the exit behind the two; he had two options: fight— which Chenle seemed more than ready to do— or stay out of trouble and run. The second option seemed very tempting at the moment.
“I didn’t make any deal with you.”
This seems enough to set Chenle off, more than ready to throw a punch before he’s interrupted by his manager; the man’s sharp Chenle is enough to have the two men looking back, over to where his manager leans against the wall, arms crossed as he stares at Beomgyu carefully.
“You,” the man says carefully, nodding at Beomgyu as he raises a brow questioningly, “what’s your name?”
“Beomgyu,” he replies gruffly, watching as the manager only becomes more confused by his response.
“Who sent you here?”
“Hey man, what’s the hold up, our fight started two minutes ago and people are already calling a forfeit—“ Taehyun pauses at the sight of the scene before him, taking a second to compose himself before he’s sending a cold glare to Chenle’s manager, “what’re you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” the man replies, pushing himself off the wall before he’s shoving his hands into his pants pockets, “now that I think about it, you two weren’t on the original roster we agreed to.”
“The hell are you talking about?” It’s clear that the situation has begun to annoy Taehyun, who remains unphased as the manager begins to walk towards him, “We were invited to the tournament.”
“Oh yeah? By who?” The man asks quietly, tilting his head as he waits expectantly for Taehyun to answer.
“Choi Yeonjun,” Beomgyu says, the name foreign to Taehyun’s ears as he gauges the men’s reactions, the two of them watching Beomgyu with a scrutinizing gaze— what he sees does nothing to soothe his nerves.
“Choi Yeonjun?” It seems as though that was not the answer either of them were looking for, the older man beginning to walk towards Taehyun, cornering him against the wall as Beomgyu attempts to step in— the warning glare Chenle sends him has him stilling for a second.
“That little rat sent you two? He still has the courage to try and involve himself here?” Something isn’t right— Beomgyu feels as though his body is on fire, buzzing with adrenaline as he watches the man’s tone drop dangerously— he’s reaching towards his jacket, the sight alarming as Beomgyu decides to divert his attention before it’s too late.
His attempt to take down Chenle works fairly easy— at least, that’s what Beomgyu thinks initially, able to take Chenle by surprise with a punch to the face before the boy is recovering; he’s more than ready to take back any of Chenle’s hits, only that’s not what the younger man seems to have in mind as he reaches into his jacket pocket instead.
Beomgyu isn’t given much time to react before Chenle is tackling him into the wall, his head banging harshly against it before he feels himself grow paralyzed with shock and pain— the knife Chenle drives into Beomgyu’s stomach is quickly plunged out, the younger man’s manager pulling him back with a scolding tsk and a harsh pull of his collar.
“Shit,” he can hear Taehyun exclaim, running to Beomgyu’s side in an instant as he attempts to add pressure to the wound; Beomgyu is still in shock as he groans at the feeling, a shuddering breath escaping him as he watches his blood run down his skin and stain his shorts.
“Chenle, let’s go,” the manager hisses, tugging Chenle along and hiding the weapon before either Beomgyu or Taehyun are able to process it.
Beomgyu feels as though he’s swimming underwater with how disoriented he feels, the quiet apologies Taehyun lets out over and over falling onto deaf ears as the noise outside only grows louder.
“We need to take you to the hospital man, shit,” Taehyun says, doing his best to carry Beomgyu with him as they make their way out— he knows better than to try and trust anyone in this place to treat him.
“What’s this?” Taehyun is already rolling his eyes at the sight of a new person blocking their path, more than ready to curse them out and push them out of the way before he realizes who it is; Choi Minho, the club owner, simply smiles down at them, inspecting the two men before him before his cold gaze stops upon Beomgyu.
“Playing dirty already?” His lack of urgency has Taehyun’s stomach churning with dread, wondering what the fuck he’s gotten himself into as the owner of the club only stops to laugh at his own joke.
Taehyun’s guilt and fear for his friend seems to cloud his reasoning; without another thought, he’s pushing past Minho, trying to find his way over to the exit before he quickly realizes that he’s managed to bring all the attention to him.
The crowd goes wild at the sight of Beomgyu’s injury; they’re crowding around the three, attempting to instigate a fight and bet money as their eyes light up with bloodlust— the sight has Taehyun shivering as he stumbles forward in uncertainty, avoiding a woman that attempts to grab out to Beomgyu in the process.
The sight was terrifying; Minho could only watch in satisfaction behind them, crossing his arms in amusement as he watched Taehyun try to push through the packed crowds of people; his hold on Beomgyu was slipping, and he’s sure he’s left a trail of blood by now as his ears begin to ache, trying his best to ignore the catcalls and insults that are thrown at him; both to try and instigate and annoy him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Minho calls after them, following behind as people almost seem to clear a path for him; in turn, the people on the other end seem to grow bolder, blocking his path and eager to witness conflict as Taehyun begins to yell at them to move.
“We still need to discuss your connections to this place,” Minho says, his eyes darkening as he meets Taehyun’s heated gaze, “Choi Yeonjun, was it?”
It’s no use; the crowd is getting handsy, pushing Taehyun back towards Minho in order to see the drama unfold. Beomgyu can only cling tighter to Taehyun, groaning in pain as the adrenaline slowly begins to wear off.
Choi Yeonjun, what the fuck did you do, Taehyun is practically ready to spit in Minho’s face from the anger that courses through him, but the fear that Beomgyu may bleed out on him keeps his senses on high alert as he tries to formulate a plan to escape.
His chance to escape comes in the form of five gunshots that boom through the room— each causing more panic than the last, the people around him bigger cowards than they let on as they immediately fall to the floor or scramble for cover.
Taehyun is startled but remains alert, his head whipping around and meeting the eyes of someone who was more than used to coming to unorthodox places to wrangle Beomgyu out of danger.
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you angrier as you point a gun towards the ceiling, your jaw clenched and your face confronted into a nasty glare as rubble falls around you.
“Get down,” you seethe, sweeping your gun through the area as you watch everyone cower at the sight, eyes pointed at those who try to get back up to escape, “I said get the fuck down!”
The place seems to grow still the moment you put your finger back on the trigger, the startled yelps of those hiding the only thing that you can hear as you begin to walk forward; your gaze only darkens more at the sight of Beomgyu slumped in Taehyun’s arms.
“___, so nice to see you back here,” Minho smiles, attempting to charm you with an innocent tilt of his head, “What brings you to this place?”
“Let them go, Minho,” you warn, raising your gun towards him as he simply puts his hands up in surrender— yet, the mischievous smile and his unphased body language tell you otherwise.
“And why should I?” He asks carefully, eyes flickering over to where Beomgyu barely remains standing, Taehyun attempting to put all his strength into stopping the blood flow of his wound, “They wronged me, and I simply want answers.”
“Bullshit,” you spit out, jerking your arm as you bring your gun to aim at his head instead, “I have Agust and his men outside. Let them go if you know what’s good for you.”
The sudden name seems to be enough for Minho to falter, his smile wavering for a second before he’s letting out a deep sigh; rolling his eyes, he takes a moment to think before he’s looking over to Taehyun and Beomgyu.
“Go.”
Taehyun doesn’t need to be told twice; he’s making his way over to you without hesitation, struggling to step over the cowering bodies as Beomgyu clings to him like a ragdoll— you’re immediately pulling the two behind you before you’re jerking your head back to the exit, walking backwards as you keep your gun aimed at Minho in warning.
“You’ll be back soon,” Minho grins, his eyes alight with something mischievous and dangerous as he lets his arms down slowly, “just you wait.”
Your free hand reaches for the heavy metal door, your eyes narrowing at his words as he waits for you to say something; in response, you spit at him, slamming the door behind you before you’re ushering Taehyun to hurry up.
“I fucking told you, I can’t fucking believe this,” you mutter under your breath, shoving the gun in your back pocket before you’re taking Beomgyu from Taehyun, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you spot Taehyun staggering behind in exhaustion.
“Hurry up before I leave your ass here!” You yell, now at the top of the stairs as you meet eyes with the one person you now owed your life to.
“Shit, you really weren’t messing around,” Yoongi says, his eyes widening as he takes sight of the unconscious man you carry with you. With a snap, his men take him from your arms, carrying him over to the backseat of Yoongi’s car before he’s gesturing for you to get in, Taehyun following close behind.
“We need to get him to the hospital, now,” you stress, unsure of how much Beomgyu was bleeding out before you got there; from his pale sweaty skin and slow, shuddering breaths, you know it’s best to act fast and ask questions later.
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” is all Yoongi says, gesturing towards his men as they all begin to scatter, more than ready to speed off into the streets as he yells at Taehyun to put pressure on Beomgyu’s wound.
Pressed against the seat, you can’t ignore the way your head aches and your eyes sting with the threat of tears, unsure of what you’ll tell Beomgyu’s mother the moment he gets checked in the hospital.
Silently, you reach over to Yoongi, grabbing his hand as you let out a soft thank you. In turn, he squeezes your hand in reassurance, his foot pressing down on the gas pedal as he takes in the anxiety that rolls off you in waves.
⊹⊹⊹
The hospital is cold and unwelcoming.
You’re in the waiting room, unable to stop yourself from pacing as Yoongi remains by your side; Taehyun lingers nearby, his gaze downcast and glued to the floor from the moment Beomgyu was taken away by paramedics.
Your fingers dig into your arms as you sigh for the upteenth time; your gaze falls on Taehyun, your jaw clenching as you take him in— his head is downcast and he remains hunched over in his seat, his elbows propped on his knees as he hangs his head. But even from there, your eyes are able to look over the way his clothes are drenched with blood, his knuckles turning white as he clasps his hands together tightly.
“Excuse me, are you Choi Beomgyu’s guardian?” The three of you are quick to turn at the meek nurse that approaches you, her hands folded politely as you take initiative to step towards her; nodding, you watch as she sighs, her face unreadable under the medical mask she wears.
“I’m sorry to inform you that Choi Beomgyu’s wound was quite severe, and he lost a significant amount of blood.” You can feel Yoongi grasp at your arm as you exhale slowly, feeling yourself become unstable as your mouth falls open in disbelief, “We were able to stop the bleeding, but we’ve noticed that his wound has shown signs of infection; due to this, his condition is still critical— He is currently in the intensive care unit, and we are doing everything we can to stabilize him; Unfortunately, only immediate family can visit at this time.”
She lingers for a moment as she waits for you to say something, but you’re only able to muster enough energy to nod politely, ripping your arm out of Yoongi’s grasp before you’re stumbling outside— the said man is hot on your trail as he keeps a close eye on you, his quiet presence enough reassurance that he’s there if you need him.
Your hands are shaking horribly as you shove them in your pockets; your head hurts, and you feel sick to your stomach as you lean against the hospital walls, your head banging softly against the concrete wall as your pockets fish for something to distract you; Yoongi is quick to guess as he reaches into his own jacket, pulling out a cigarette and placing it in between your lips before he’s lighting it for you.
“He’ll be okay,” Yoongi reassures you, watching with narrowed eyes as you take a slow drag from the cigarette, “he’s a strong kid— in good hands, too.”
“I know he’ll be okay,” you grit out, sighing softly as you watch the smoke escape from your lips and disappear into the night sky, “he has to be.”
Your worries don’t lie entirely on his health; his recovery will be slow and tedious, but you’ll do anything if it ensures Beomgyu’s safety— the problem, however, lies on how much it’ll cost to ensure his recovery.
With the treatments and antibiotics the doctors were currently giving Beomgyu, you’re sure Ms. Choi would break down at the sight of the bill; running a restaurant on her own can only do so much, and you’re sure as hell not blind to the reasons as to why Beomgyu took up fighting in the first place, witness to the way he would leave his prize money before her in hopes that it would take care of the monthly bills.
A prize from the tournament at FightX would’ve been enough to have Ms. Choi closing the restaurant for a while and going on vacation— Beomgyu’s motivations slowly start clicking together in your head as you scoff, taking another drag from the cigarette in your hand as you feel the way your head begins to ache; the last thing you’ll do is have Ms. Choi worry about the bills.
“His mother,” Yoongi starts softly, interrupting your thoughts as he practically reads your mind, “are you gonna tell her?”
You take a moment before you answer, watching as Yoongi leans against the wall next to you patiently; flicking the ashes off your cigarette, you bite your lip, frowning in frustration as you sigh slowly.
“I have to,” you say, your mind already wracking for ways you could deliver the news to his mother, “she’s already worried enough as it is.”
Pulling your phone out, you turn it on to show Yoongi your screen; an onslaught of missed calls and text messages greet you, all from Beomgyu’s mother as you wince at the escalation of the contents— all of them asking if you’re alright, if you know where Beomgyu might have run off to.
“She’s already onto me,” you laugh softly, though it feels more forced than anything as you watch your screen light up again, her contact name taking over the screen as you take a second to look at it; with one last drag from your cigarette, you exhale, accepting the call as you drop the item and grind it into the ground, wincing slightly as Ms. Choi’s alarmed voice fills your ears.
“Yes Ms. Choi, I’ve found him.” You look beyond exhausted as Taehyun watches from afar, only able to hear your soft voice as you continue to reassure his mother— the guilt that was plaguing Taehyun’s mind only comes back stronger as he watches you deliver the awaited news tensely, the words awkward in your mouth as you visibly flinch— only to quickly tell Beomgyu’s mother that he’s safe and there’s nothing to worry about.
“We’re still here. I’ll wait for you, don’t worry.” Your voice is soft and calming as you speak, a stark contrast to what Taehyun saw earlier— he shivers at the thought, eyes widening slightly as they meet yours— stiffening, he can’t help how tense he feels as you gesture for him to come to him.
It’s silent as Taehyun walks to you; tucking your phone into your back pocket, your eyes narrow at the sight of Taehyun walking towards you, as though his tail were tucked in between his legs as he refuses to meet your gaze. The sight is enough to have you angered again as you cross your arms, pushing yourself off the wall as you dig your fingers into your biceps, teeth gritting as you attempt to keep your voice steady as you speak.
“What the hell happened back there? How did this all start?” You ask, your gaze intense as Taehyun forces himself to meet it; you look beyond furious as you wait for him to respond, Yoongi surveying carefully over your shoulder, the sight oddly intimidating as Taehyun begins to recount everything that happened.
“The match was rigged— you weren’t even supposed to be there,” you conclude, looking over your shoulder to see Yoongi agreeing, “who was invited there?”
“It was me,” Taehyun says, not an ounce of hesitation in his answer as he watches your eyes widen at the news, “It was all my idea, I thought it’d give us a bigger chance to win the prize money— I… I was the one who got the invite.”
Taehyun isn’t entirely sure as to why he just took all the blame for Beomgyu; maybe it was his guilty conscience, or the way that he knew if he told the truth, Beomgyu would be in more trouble than he already was— yet a small part of him seems to regret it as he watches the way your eyes widen, unable to stop yourself as Taehyun’s head jerks to the side— his cheek stings at the impact of your palm, but he doesn’t find himself to be angered by it as he remains silent.
“This— this is all your fault?” You say, incredulous as you begin to pace again— whether it’s to hold yourself back from hitting Taehyun again or to process everything, he isn’t sure— “Do you have any idea the shit you just got us involved in?”
From the way Taehyun stares at you, his brows furrowed in concern, it’s clear the answer is no.
“Do you know how much it’ll cost for Beomgyu’s treatment? He could’ve fucking died!” The fact that Beomgyu still stepped foot in the underground club despite knowing the dangers of it isn’t lost on you— if anything, it angers you more, feeling as though he took everything you told him and went through as a joke, teeth gritting together at the thought of it, “his mother can’t afford something like this, do you realize how terrified she is to hear her son is in the ICU?”
“The money from the tournament,” Taehyun interrupts, watching the way you pause in your steps before he continues, “we can just use that— it’s more than enough.”
You remain silent— all you can do is stare at Taehyun for a second, eyes narrowing at him before you shake your head; bitterly, you smile, tilting your head as you cross your arms defensively once more.
“Did you finish the tournament?” You ask, watching as Taehyun slowly shakes his head, “did you win?”
“No— it was just me and Beomgyu left anyway—”
“Did you win?” You repeat, your voice much more stern as you take a step closer to Taehyun; he can feel his heart sinking as he takes in your close proximity, your expression serious as he feels the realization dawn on him as well, “did you stay in the cage, did you hear them announce you as the winner?”
You both know the answer to your question; Taehyun’s voice is barely above a whisper as he speaks.
“No.”
“No,” you echo, hands falling to your sides, the burst of emotions from earlier taking a toll on you and leaving your voice quiet and tired as you continue, “They might as well call it a forfeit from your part.”
“The prize money is still their’s, and they’ll even hold another tournament while they’re at it.”
Backing away, you glance at Yoongi before gesturing for him to give you another cigarette; the lighter is the only thing that illuminates your face for a second, your eyes tired and angry as they flicker back up to meet Taehyun’s.
“Unless you want to go back and win it, you’re no use here.”
You refuse to talk to Taehyun any further as you turn your back to him; the smoke that escapes from your figure is oddly soothing as Taehyun lingers by your side, lost in thought as he leans against the wall; feeling a set of eyes searing into his skin, he looks up, meeting Yoongi’s curious gaze, watching as he tilts his head before he finally speaks to the younger man.
“Who sent you that invitation?” Yoongi asks, burying his hands into his jacket pockets as he watches Taehyun intently— the said man pauses, mind thinking back to the name Beomgyu mentioned before he’s uttering it quietly, unsure of himself as he avoids Yoongi’s gaze.
“Choi Yeonjun.” Taehyun is surprised to find both of you reacting, watching as your shoulders shake with quiet laughter, head turning to Yoongi who simply sends you a knowing look; the two of you shake your heads in dismay, leaving Taehyun to wonder if he said the wrong name as he watches Yoongi let out a deep sigh.
“That explains it,” Yoongi mutters, taking the cigarette from your hands before he’s taking a drag of it himself; he’s blowing the smoke out to the side before he finally decides to give Taehyun more context, the sight of the man staring at him bringing him amusement as his lips twinge into a small smile.
“You and Yeonjun, were you guys close?” Taehyun slowly shakes his head at the question, making Yoongi scoff— he wonders why the older man seems to be making such a big deal about this person, but the heavy feeling in his gut tells him it’s nothing good, “Makes sense— thought you had a death wish or something.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Taehyun asks, tired of being left out in the dark from the way Yoongi refuses to give proper context; he can’t help the way he straightens slightly as you turn back around to face him, your gaze still full of anger as you glare at Taehyun.
“That invitation was a setup,” you begin, brow raising at the way Taehyun’s mouth falls open in surprise, “Choi Yeonjun was exposed as a rat years ago; he was working with police to try and get the club shutdown, greedy for money— didn’t exactly end well for him.”
It all seems to make sense now; the hostility whenever either boys mentioned the man, the danger it wound them up in— Taehyun tries to keep a straight face at the news, but it’s difficult to do as you grow quiet, surveying Taehyun carefully as you take a step closer to him; then another, and another until you’re eerily close to him, attempting to analyze everything about him before you’re tutting softly.
“But why he would send an invite to you, I have no idea— let alone how he got a spot in the bracket— what’d he tell you, anyway?” your questions are enough to have Taehyun gulping softly; hell, how was he supposed to know any of this? Yet, as far as you were concerned, Taehyun was the only one who was in contact with the man.
“Nothing much,” Taehyun replies, hoping you can’t see through his lies as he stares straight into your eyes, “it came in the mail— just told me he secured two spots.”
“Think about it,” Yoongi says, diverting your attention away from Taehyun for a second— he can feel himself relax slightly, free from your intense gaze as you turn to look at your friend, “Why else would he try to get involved with FightX again? And through other fighters, on top of that.”
“He might be trying to get back in the scene,” you say, seemingly coming to a conclusion before Taehyun can as your face lightens up; first, with confusion, then with amusement as a smile tugs at your lips. Turning back to Taehyun, you can’t help but laugh slightly in disbelief, “The prize money probably wasn’t going to be yours to begin with.”
Still a rat, hmm, you mutter, the smile on your face contradictory to the way you bite your lip in irritation; the laugh you let out isn’t very convincing either, and Yoongi can only roll his eyes at your antics as he’s leaning against the wall once more, taking a slow drag from the cigarette in his hand before he’s flicking off the ash absentmindedly.
“How do you know all this?” Taehyun asks, the question hitting him suddenly as he takes a good look at the people before him; a restaurant worker and a man who seemed to be involved in shadier things than he let on— his curiosity laid more on you, taking in the way you seemed unphased by his question, “who are you guys?”
That’s enough for you and Yoongi to share a bewildered look; it takes a second before you’re both laughing, amused at his words as you allow Yoongi to answer.
“Kid, you’re looking at the two old champions of FightX,” Yoongi smiles, eyes creasing as Taehyun takes notice of the scar that runs through one of them, “We’re the only fucking reason that club survived for so long.”
Taehyun’s look of bewilderment is the only thing to have you cracking a genuine smile; rolling your eyes, you huff as his eyes land on you, observing you for a moment before he frowns in confusion.
“You’re a fighter?” Taehyun asks, watching as the two of you nod without hesitation, “Makes sense.”
“Alright you little prick,” you seethe, eye twitching at his witty comment, “I know you have a smart fucking mouth, but I still can’t get used to it.”
You feel as though you might show Taehyun some of your moves when he simply cracks an innocent smile at you— only to stop, the sound of hurried steps and the loud yell of your name making the three of you turn towards the sound.
Ah, you hear Yoongi mumble behind you, dropping his cigarette and snuffing it out before Ms. Choi can pick up on it; the tense smiles the two of you sport quickly has Taehyun doing the same, shuffling back until he’s covered behind Yoongi— from the corner of your eye, you see the younger man cross his arms awkwardly, attempting to cover his blood-soaked clothes as he keeps his head ducked down.
Ms. Choi is a wreck; you’re able to pick up on it easily, the light that leaks out from within highlighting her features that are soaked with worry and stress; her face is pulled into a frown and her eyes threaten to leak with tears as she stumbles to a stop before you.
Her expression is unreadable; you’re unsure of how she might react or what she might do, but you wouldn’t blame her if she lashed out any of her anger on you— jolting, you’re taken aback by the way she practically leaps on you, arms caging you in a bone crushing hug as she buries her head into your shoulder— the sounds of her sniffles are enough to have you snapping out of your frozen state, arms coming up to hold the woman tightly in return.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she mutters, her hands gripping onto your clothes at the reminder, “I’m so glad he’s alive.”
“He’s safe, Ms. Choi. He’s okay, he’ll recover in no time,” your reassurance is soft and endless as you pat her back, allowing her to cry freely into your arms as you give her a moment to recollect herself— sniffing, she pulls away, wiping at her eyes before her gaze falls on Yoongi.
“Ma’am,” Yoongi nods, his face tense as he awaits for her to say something; his face mirrors your own as he’s pulled into a hug, eyes widening and posture stiffening before he slowly returns the gesture.
“Thank you for bringing my son back to me,” she says, pulling away before she reaches up to cup Yoongi’s face; she takes him in, smiling tenderly as she adds, “I’m happy to see you’ve been well.”
Yoongi smiles at her comment; he’s surprised to see that she still remembers him, times spent visiting you at work and pestering you coming to mind as he lets out a soft laugh.
“They said only immediate family is allowed to visit at this time,” you mutter softly, taking her attention as she turns to face you, “We’ll wait out here for you.”
Taking your hands, she nods; you can see how apologetic she is as she takes a moment to smile reassuringly, telling you that she’ll let you know how he’s doing before she disappears inside— watching her figure retreat, you can’t help but frown after a moment, wondering if she’ll be alright on her own.
“Fuck,” you sigh, the reality of it all hitting you again as you tilt your head back defeatedly; staring at the night sky, you bury your hands into your pockets, fighting the emotions that threaten to spill over as you speak, “How the fuck am I supposed to handle all this now.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Yoongi says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder as he becomes quick to reassure you, “I can help you out, I know some people.”
“No Yoongi,” you quickly say, shrugging off his shoulder as you send him a stern look, “I don’t want you to get involved in any shady stuff over this— I got this, you don’t need to worry.”
Your argument continues to go back and forth for a while— Taehyun feels insanely awkward as he’s forced to watch, unsure of what to do as he wonders if it’s just best to sneak away and go back inside— after what seems like ten minutes, he realizes he’s had enough as he goes to butt in.
“Let’s just win that stupid thing back,” Taehyun blurts out, stopping the both of you in your tracks as you slowly turn to look at him, “you said they’d probably hold another tournament, no? We’ll just win it back through there.”
“Are you—?” you cut yourself off as you place a hand over your mouth, running it down in frustration before you’re starting again, “You were invited to that place by Choi Yeonjun, a fucking rat. You really think they’d just let you waltz back in and join?”
“Minho—” Taehyun says, pausing for a moment as he frowns, thinking back to what the owner of the place said, “You’ll be back soon. That’s what he said, no?”
“He wants us to come back,” Yoongi realizes, glancing at you as he watches the way your jaw clenches in annoyance, “He knew we’d be back for that damn prize.”
“And what better way to draw in gamblers than with a match after tonight’s show,” you continue, your mind racing with ideas before you’re finally looking back at Taehyun, “But what, how are we supposed to arrange something like this? You seriously think we can just walk in and have a civilized conversation?”
⊹⊹⊹
“Are you fucking insane?”
Taehyun’s hushed scolding is enough to have you rolling your eyes, unphased by his reaction as you tug your shirt over your jeans more; shrugging your jacket on, you nod back at Yoongi, who only returns the gesture after he’s zipped his own coat up; you can barely feel the gun that’s tucked into your waistband, but Taehyun is determined to not allow you to forget about it as his eyes fall onto it’s hiding spot every three seconds.
“It’s rude to stare,” you mumble, slapping Taehyun’s shoulder and forcing him to turn back around; you allow Yoongi to lead the way through the busy streets, the bright alleyways and busy shops entirely inconspicuous as you make your way to a familiar store, entirely empty except for the owner that attends it.
There are no customers when you enter; The store is packed with products and is poorly lit, and it’s oddly quiet as you walk around; making your way around the aisles swiftly, it almost feels like muscle memory before you’re stopping at the checkout— narrowing your eyes, you’re not surprised to find Minho sitting on a stool behind the register, not bothering to look up from the book he reads as he adjusts his thin wired glasses slightly— leaning on the counter, you clear your throat, raising a brow as you tap your fingers rhythmically on the surface.
“A win is only official after it is announced by the referee; if both fighters fail to present themselves in the ring, the match is invalid.” Minho doesn’t bother to look up from his book as he speaks; carefully, he reaches to fold the page he’s on, pressing his fingers on the dog-ear meticulously before he’s shutting the book gingerly; placing it on the counter, he finally looks up, smiling sweetly as he does so.
“But you already know that, don’t you?”
“You’re holding another tournament, aren’t you,” you say, the words coming out as a statement rather than a question.
“Perhaps.”
“We want in,” you can see the way Minho processes your words, his eyes scanning from you to Yoongi before his smile is growing a bit wider; catching onto his thought process, you’re quick to shake your head, reaching behind you and pulling Taehyun roughly as you ignore the way he stumbles forward.
“I mean him. Just him.”
Minho’s smile wavers a little— you can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes decrease slightly, but his expression is still amused as he quickly recalls who the fighter in front of him is; narrowing his eyes, Minho hums, oddly docile as he looks back at you.
“Fine,” to say that it’s unnerving to watch Minho agree so easily is an understatement; you’re sharing a confused look with Yoongi as you watch the way Minho stands from his seat, rounding the counter before he begins to walk away— glancing back at you, he nods to the exit, telling you to follow him before he continues walking.
Before you can think too hard on it, you’re tugging the two men along; anything to make sure he doesn’t disappear from your sight, you think, but you can’t help but pat yourself down slightly in search of your gun the moment you see where you’re headed.
“Relax, it’s empty right now,” Minho hums, swinging the door wide open and allowing you to see, smiling in amusement as he takes in the way you remain a few steps back, “I’ve decided that a tournament is just too simple.”
“After the glorious show you put on last night, I knew my patrons would love to see more of your people,” Minho continues, a satisfied look flashing through his features as the three of you finally make your way to his level, peeking through the door cautiously, “and what better way than to skip the bracket and give the public what they want?”
There’s a single person inside; you’re on guard as you watch them, the dull lights of the place barely allowing you to see them as you squint your eyes; He’s practicing, you realize, watching as he uses the punch bag before him diligently, his sounds of effort reaching you as he continues.
“One v. One match,” Minho smiles, glancing into the door to see what the man inside is up to; the four of you watch as he does a spin kick, the force from it sending the punching bag flying to the side, the sound of the impact echoing throughout the empty area as you wince at the sight.
The man lets out a huff of exhaustion after; he’s backing up, shaking his body as he steps into the light that emits from a window behind him— pushing his hair back, you’re able to take in his features, your eyes widening as you realize who it is that currently stands before you.
“Your fighter versus mine— The Cobra.”
The Cobra— otherwise known as Park Jongseong— or rather, Minho’s last apprentice before you left.
“The best of the best, no?” Minho continues, his gaze meeting your own as he smiles knowingly, “you win this, you win everything— no questions asked, no… attacks, on my part.”
You can already hear Yoongi’s thoughts behind you; this is dangerous, this is a horrible, insane idea.
And you agree— you agree wholeheartedly, hesitating to respond as you take another moment to observe The Cobra— yet it seems as though you’ve taken too long, lost deep in your own thoughts as you fail to account for another, stupid variable.
“Deal,” Taehyun butts in, leaving you speechless as you’re forced to watch the way he shakes Minho’s hand casually; the older man can only laugh at the action, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes meet yours— his smile only widens more as he takes in your baffled expression.
You find yourself speechless— even when you go back up to discuss the rules and terms of the fight, speechless when Yoongi reluctantly agrees, and speechless when you walk out of the inconspicuous store, your hands clutching tightly onto the paper given to you with the specific details of the match.
You’re only able to muster up the courage to look at Taehyun once you’ve gotten back in the car safely; he meets your gaze after a moment, brows furrowing as he finds himself annoyed with your dumbstruck expression.
“What the hell do you want?”
This stupid boy has no idea what he just got himself into.
⊹⊹⊹
“Three weeks,” you say, pacing back and forth as you find yourself in the last place you would ever want to be; Seokjin’s small fight club is no match to the basement of FightX, but it’s enough for you to train in as you choose to look past the dimly lit area, the natural light that leaks in from the small windows above the only thing that allows you to see properly— Taehyun watches you impatiently, stretching his muscles as he stands by the training equipment in attention, wanting nothing more than to get started already.
“For the next three weeks, you’ll throw away any plans you’ve made— I expect to see you here everyday for training.”
”Wait, you’re training me?” Taehyun interjects, watching the way you narrow your eyes at him in warning— he looks back to where Yoongi sits, slumped over in his chair as he smiles lazily the moment their eyes meet— then he looks back at you, biting his lip before he continues, “Why not him?”
“Because you want to get trained by the best, no?” Yoongi calls out, already able to see the way you bristle at Taehyun’s comment; the said boy nods, lips pressed together as he takes a moment to observe you again, “Then she’ll be training you. Now watch your mouth before you sweet trainer here decides enough is enough.”
“But the restaurant,” Taehyun backtracks, realizing how his comment may have come off as he speaks, “Won’t you be busy?”
“Winning that tournament is more important,” you say, not missing a beat as you begin to stretch, “Especially since you agreed to fight The Cobra, of all people.”
“Seriously, why is that a big deal?” Taehyun huffs, rolling his eyes as you signal for him to continue stretching, “the dude can’t be that dangerous.”
“That dude has been in the ring for years,” Yoongi says, catching Taehyun’s attention as he pauses in his movements, “Much longer than you, to be sure.”
“Meaning,” you continue, sighing in dismay at the thought of your next words, “He’s been trained by Minho himself.”
“And us.”
The sudden revelation is enough to have Taehyun tensing; stomach sinking, he seems to realize why you were so hesitant to agree to this arrangement.
“Anything we teach you, Park Jongseong has already mastered,” you say, putting on focus mitts before you gesture for Taehyun to come closer, “That’s where you come in— I’ve been praying that you’d be a decent fighter, hoping you’d have some skills of your own we could hone in on.”
Taehyun frowns at your words— you aren’t exactly the most encouraging person he’s met, and he can even feel his confidence dwindling as he stands before you, pausing as he watches you put up your mitted hands— a moment passes and you’re rolling your eyes, scoffing at the way Taehyun seems to be hesitant before you.
“What are you waiting for?” you scold, your tough voice enough for the man to snap out of his daze; his expression is unreadable as you watch a shift in his form, his hesitation quickly being wiped off as he takes a step toward you— his stance is shifting, and you watch with delight as his eyes turn dangerous, honing in on your mitts as he brings his fists up.
Let’s see what you got.
⊹⊹⊹
“Again.”
For once, Taehyun begins to realize the consequences of his actions.
His body is on fire; he feels as though all his strength has escaped him, pushing his hair back for the upteenth time as he winces at the sweat that coats it— you remain unphased, and Taehyun wonders for a second if you have unlimited stamina as you raise your brow at him expectantly.
His body has yet to become accustomed to this new schedule. He’s gotten used to seeing you every day, reviewing techniques and giving him pointers before you’re giving him a thorough workout; tonight, you’ve decided to focus on his kicks, bringing up many different fighting styles and forcing him to practice on the punching bag that hangs in a nearby corner.
“Come on, can’t we just take a break? I’ve been at this for—“
“I said again,” you interrupt, glaring at the way Taehyun sends you an irritated look; Taehyun has grown used to your intimidation tactics after spending more time with you than should be considered normal, your once terrifying anger nothing more than something Taehyun has to put up with as he sighs— he still knows better than to go against you, though.
And so, he does exactly what you taught him— though it’s sloppy, and he knows he’ll get an earful as he executes the kick weakly— though, he personally blames your refusal to give him a proper break for his actions.
“Have you not been paying attention to anything I’ve been saying?” you ask, exasperated as you make your way to him; standing next to him, you gesture for him to step aside, getting in front of the punching bag yourself before you’re getting into the proper stance.
“I need you to remember to swing your hips; like this,” stepping forward with your right foot, you extend your left leg slowly, twisting your hips along with the motion as you freeze, gesturing to your hips, “If you don’t, your kick won’t be as powerful; you need to put your whole body into it, not just your leg.”
Stepping back, you demonstrate again, pushing through the rest of the kick as you listen to the thud that echoes from your move— Taehyun can’t help the way his eyes widen as he watches the punching bag swing back and forth, analyzing your form before another thought is popping into his head.
“That kick,” Taehyun mumbles, switching spots with you as he begins to envision what you just did, trying to get his body to recreate it before he pauses, “Beomgyu did that— he used that move all the time.”
“Yeah? Glad he finally got it right,” you sigh, unfazed by his words as you cross your arms, smiling in amusement— Taehyun turns to look at you, frowning in confusion as you practically read his mind, “Hey, if I can’t stop that idiot from sneaking off to this place, I might as well make sure he doesn’t die.”
The laugh you let out after is tense and bittersweet; Beomgyu was doing much better now, but he remained in the hospital due to complications from the infection of his wound— you were given the news that he would most likely need physical therapy as well, the sound of it only motivating you to work harder after you watched the way Ms. Choi paled with the news.
“He almost knocked you out with it? Holy shit,” you laugh, incredulous as Taehyun tells you the details of his first encounter with the boy— the proud smile that spreads across your face catches Taehyun off guard, your eyes twinkling with delight as you gesture back to the punching bag. “Don’t you wanna get as good as him? Come on, show me you’re not all talk.”
The sudden comparison to Beomgyu has Taehyun bristling with annoyance, rolling his eyes as he reluctantly follows your words— a strange, nagging feeling manifests within his mind, telling him to prove himself and dispel all your worries about him as a fighter— it motivates him, taking a deep breath before he’s getting into the proper stance; closing his eyes, he envisions his body following the same movement path you did, eyes zeroing in on the punching bag before him as he finally executes the kick.
“There we go,” you hiss, an excited grin spreading on your face as you listen to the impact of Taehyun’s kick— though it’s too early for the said man to celebrate, his eyes lighting up for a second before you’re back to pester him for pointers.
“You need to stay light on your feet,” you remind him, rolling your eyes at the way he tries to interfere with your comment, telling you that it’s because I’m exhausted, “Do you think Jongseong will care if you’re tired? You think he’s gonna go easy on you if you start bitching at him the way you are now?”
“There’s no need for you to be such a bitch, either,” Taehyun sneers, getting back into stance as he watches the way you remain unfazed by his comment.
“Maybe I’ll start being nice once you prove to be useful.” you mutter, and Taehyun swears the anger that courses through him fuels his kick as he feels his body twisting with energy— so much energy that he’s losing his footing, the impact that booms from his move much louder than his previous attempts as he stumbles back— from the corner of his eyes, he sees the way your eyes widen slightly at the sight.
“Not bad,” you say, tilting your head as you study Taehyun for a second; he’s exhausted and soaked with sweat, his eyes filled with pure anger and frustration you might just think he’ll fight you instead— the thought is enough to have you stifling a laugh, your lips twitching slightly before you’re snapping back to reality.
“You need to practice your balance if you’re gonna use your body like that,” humming softly, you think for a second, brows furrowing as you continue, “if anything, you should try some spinning hook kicks— that could improve your balance great—”
“You’re here again?” the voice that yells out from the entrance has you startled for a second, turning around before you’re groaning in frustration; you’re leaving Taehyun’s side immediately as you go to the source of the sound— Seokjin seems to be just as annoyed as you are, turning on the rest of the lights with an irritated look on his face.
“You know why we’re here, Seokjin,” you say, yet the reminder of your reasoning doesn’t seem to be enough for the man, watching as he shakes his head in disapproval.
“You know I have a club to run, right?” it’s clear you’ve given up as you mutter a yeah yeah, softly, pouting like a child to the older man, “I can’t have this place running while you’re training that poor kid to death.”
“My regimen has results.” you say defensively, glaring at Seokjin, who simply puts up his hands in defeat, unphased by your attitude as he glances back at Taehyun.
“He looks like he’s about to pass out.”
Following Seokjin’s line of sight, you find yourself wincing; it seems that you’ve only now gotten a good look at the man, watching the way he’s already slumped down at the bench nearby, his chest heaving with shallow breaths and his eyes fluttering as he holds onto his water bottle tightly— frowning, you listen to the way Seokjin quietly asks you how long have you been in here today? your mind going back to the hours you’ve spent cooped inside this building— not to mention day after day.
“Go back to opening this place,” you sigh, rolling your eyes at the way Seokjin smiles triumphantly— the guilt you feel is odd as you approach Taehyun, standing by awkwardly as you watch the way he doesn’t even acknowledge you, much too tired to even open his eyes.
“Hey. Don’t pass out on me,” you say, slapping Taehyun’s bicep and watching as he startles awake— his eyes meet yours, wincing at the sudden increase of light as he squints up at you.
“We’re done for today. Let’s go,” you mutter, unsure of what else to do as you give Taehyun a helping hand; he observes it for a moment, oddly skeptical before he finally takes it— his skin is surprisingly soft for having the hands of a fighter, though you try not to let it show on your face as you help him up; the groan of exertion he lets out isn’t lost on you, and you’re surprised to find yourself feeling bad for doing this to him.
A pitch black night greets you the moment you’re exiting the building, yelling one last goodbye to Seokjin before you’re closing the door behind you— you can hear Taehyun softly grumble about having to climb way too many stairs, and you can only let out a huff in amusement before you’re linking an arm with him for support.
“Come on tiger, don’t let a set of stairs knock you out,” you mock, ignoring his angered rebuttals that he can barely slur out— you’ve really done a number on him today, you realize, the witty man beside you reduced to nothing more than a slumped figure as he continues to complain under his breath, leaving you unfazed the moment he tries to complain about your routines again.
“Don’t make me regret what I’m about to do for you,” is all you say in response, leading him to your car as you ignore his protests that he just wants to go home, “It’s been hours since you’ve eaten— come on, let’s go see Beomgyu, I bet he’s going insane from the hospital food.”
You’re not sure if it’s the sound of food or the mention of Beomgyu that has Taehyun perking up with interest, but you’re rolling your eyes at him nonetheless as you’re starting your car; driving towards Ms. Choi’s restaurant, you’re guessing it’s the former as Taehyun tells you that all he wants at the moment is some simple ramen.
The drive is calming— Taehyun doesn’t seem as annoying to you anymore, but a glance at him makes you realize it’s only because he’s knocked out in your passenger’s seat, completely silent save for his occasional shifting to get more comfortable.
Now this is a side of him you like.
⊹⊹⊹
Seokjin’s words seem to have affected you more than you’d like to admit.
At least, they definitely have if it’s enough to have Taehyun staring at you as though you’ve gone mad, feeling a strange heat rush to your cheeks as you press your lips together awkwardly.
“Are you messing with me?”
“No. Unless you want to go back to the usual,” you snap, and Taehyun can only put his hands up in surrender as he bows his head down; your proposal to have a rest day feels odd to Taehyun, even more so when you’ve already managed to drag the man all the way to the club.
“What’re we even doing here then?”
“There’s less than a week left before the match,” you sigh, feeling your phone buzz in your back pocket as you pause to check the message— you feel your shoulders slump with relief as you’re answering, glancing up at Taehyun, who was already watching you curiously.
“While you have shown improvement in your techniques, there’s still more you could improve on,” your sentence is interrupted as the sound of the door opens, the two of you turning to see who might be coming in— while Taehyun fully expected Jin to burst inside and start complaining, he’s surprised to find something else.
“I don’t want your body to wear out on me, so I’ll tone down the intensity of your routines as the final day approaches,” you continue, unfazed by the people that begin to approach— Yoongi is casual as he sends the two of you a wave, the woman next to him sending you a cheery nod before her gaze is falling on Taehyun.
“And we’ll work on your fighting IQ instead.”
One glance at Taehyun is enough to tell you that he has yet to connect the dots; you’re gesturing for the woman next to Yoongi to step forward, bringing her to your side before you’re introducing her— Taehyun notes that the two of you must be good friends, if the way she clings to you happily is enough of a sign.
“This is Sooyoung,” you say, and the woman next to you— Sooyoung— simply smiles, her eyes creasing and her face lighting up as she sends Taehyun a friendly wave, “Sooyoung, Taehyun.”
“So he’s the reckless boy you were telling me about?” Sooyoung asks, tinted lips pursing as she stares Taehyun down— the nickname is enough to have Taehyun’s gaze hardening, sending the woman a harsh look that only makes her laugh— the woman’s bubbly attitude feels far more patronizing than genuine as she tilts her head like a puppy.
“I do see potential,” she murmurs, lost in thought for a second before she’s snapping out of it— turning to Yoongi, she practically bounces over to him, and it isn’t until then that Taehyun takes in the duffle bag that the man carried in with him.
“The locker rooms are back there, right?” Sooyoung asks, looking at you expectantly before you’re sending her a nod of confirmation. Cool. Be right back! she says, skipping away with the duffle bag, her long dark hair swaying behind her as Taehyun’s mouth falls open at his words.
“Is she— am I fighting her?” Taehyun breathes out, a bit skeptical as he looks at you in bewilderment. All he gets in return is the usual roll of your eyes, unable to hold back your laugh at his stupidity.
“No dumbass,” You say, reaching up for the zipper of your jacket before you’re tugging it down— it isn’t until you’re shedding the layer off that Taehyun takes in your appearance, your hair tied back and your face turning serious as you begin stretching— he takes note of your hands, wrapped tightly in the wraps he always uses as his brows are jumping up in realization— catching his reaction, you smile.
“I am.”
Sooyoung is skipping out of the locker room moments later; it’s hard to not notice her, especially with her bright trunks and wraps that match the rest of her outfit— a bright green, the hair tie that keeps her hair up the exact same color as she makes her way to the cage.
“You’ll be my coach for this. I’ll only follow your instructions, so you better not get me fucked up,” you explain, joining Sooyoung by the cage before you’re turning back— Taehyun has yet to follow you, his brows furrowed as he waits for you to tell him you’re joking; instead, you’re left unamused as you cross your arms, hissing for him to hurry up and get over here.
“How is this supposed to help?” Taehyun asks, his gaze following you as you make your way inside; he’s never seen you like this, and though he hates to admit it, you’ve definitely piqued his interest.
“Seriously, are you always like this?” Is all you can say, looking down at Taehyun from where you stand within the cage— Taehyun remains silent, choosing to hold his tongue for once as he simply stares at you in response.
“You’ve never seen The Cobra fight. You don’t know what moves he’ll pull or how to counter them,” you begin, glancing back to the opposite corner; Sooyoung is crouched down in it, speaking to Yoongi through the fence as they throw the occasional look back at you, “You need to learn how to analyze your opponent— their tells, fighting style, go-to moves— everything.”
“Yoongi is coaching Joy in this match; the next match, he’ll be coaching me.” Taehyun finally seems to understand as he looks at Sooyoung— or Joy, as you called her, the strange nickname not going unnoticed by him as he furrows his brows at the sound of it. Yoongi coached Jongseong— so did you.
Through this match, he’ll get to take a peek into his opponents mind, no matter how miniscule.
After a minute of discussion, you finally decide to start the first round; Taehyun is oddly anxious as he watches you, your footsteps careful and calculated as you watch Joy, eyes narrowed and dark as you keep your guard up— the said man’s advice runs through your head, knowing you warned him you’d mostly be using his tips as you circle Joy carefully.
Taehyun realizes why Sooyoung is called Joy; he almost feels unnerved looking at her, the carefree smile and relaxed body language entirely enticing, a perfect trap to lure someone into lowering their guard— but Taehyun knows better than to think lowly of anyone you decide to bring in, her light steps and playful jabs enough to tell him that she’s definitely more calculative than she lets on.
Taehyun’s advice gets you a solid punch to the face and a painful kick to the stomach— it hurts like hell and makes you want to fight properly, but the need to allow Taehyun to improve on his own is nagging as you take the injuries and trudge over after the round is over, eyes pointed at him as though to say now what?
“Don’t look at me like that,” Taehyun hisses, annoyed at the way you already seem to be losing— he knows you can fight, yet the results of the round say otherwise as you stare at him expectantly, enough of a reminder that you currently put all strategies into his hands.
“Okay, okay,” he sighs, glancing back at the corner Joy and Yoongi currently converse in, “It’s clear that she enjoys taunting you. A lot.”
Taehyun seems to be talking more to himself than anything, thinking back to what he saw as he continues rambling, “But she seems to have this tell— every time she’s going to strike, she smiles a bit— which is fucking creepy— it’s barely there but I’ve noticed it, especially in her eyes.”
His comments have you both impressed and amused; it had taken you quite some time to figure out Joy’s tell when you first met her, so to watch as Taehyun thoroughly breaks down her fighting style is enough to have you listening to him intently.
“I think she’s aware of it too, because her rear hand always comes a little closer to her face when she does it—” the one-minute timer is up as Yoongi calls you back to the center of the ring, and you’re looking at Taehyun expectantly for one last comment— with his train of thought interrupted, he stumbles over his words, giving up after a moment before he’s waving you off.
“Just watch her tells. Oh, and avoid her kicks, that looked like it hurt.”
The way you scoff mockingly isn’t lost on Taehyun— but before he can call you out on it, you’re off, the next round starting as Taehyun watches you carefully.
Joy’s tell has become much more obvious to him; it only takes a moment, but he’s able to see every small habit and go-to that Joy has, his mind racing with strategies as he quickly realizes you’re doing the same. Joy is a predictable fighter to you— granted, she was your sparring partner for years— and with Taehyun’s new discovery, you allow yourself to exploit what you know of her and use it to your advantage.
You’re able to turn the match around with ease— Taehyun isn’t able to fight the way his eyes slowly begin to stray, away from Joy and to you, observing the way you remain focused, your moves precise and strong as he even finds himself wincing at times.
After a moment, Taehyun realizes that he’s seeing you in a new light— literally and figuratively, the spotlights suddenly turned on as someone new walks in— it highlights your features perfectly, and Taehyun is able to see your expression crystal clear, watching as your focus is shattered and you’re looking over at the entrance; the small moment of distraction costs you greatly, and Joy is able to land a punch straight to your nose before you’re falling down.
You’re placed into a tight chokehold seconds after, still disoriented from the punch as you reluctantly tap out— gasping for air, you’re quickly turning back to the entrance, glaring daggers at Jungkook, who simply smiles at you sheepishly.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says, cheeks reddening slightly from the sudden attention, “we’re just getting ready to open soon— you looked really cool though, ___.”
A moment passes before you’re laughing softly at his comment— Taehyun can’t help but wonder what might be going on between you two as Joy pulls you up, calling an early end to the match before you’re both exiting the cage.
“That was super fun,” Sooyoung hums, watching as you can only agree reluctantly; she coos at your disgruntled state, patting your head and laughing cutely as she apologizes for her harsh blows; turning to Taehyun, her smile widens, and Taehyun is impressed to find a bruise forming on her jawline as she speaks.
“___ told me you figured out my tells,” she pouts, her tone playful as she crosses her arms, “I seriously thought I finally got past those. Well done.”
Taehyun feels oddly embarrassed as he nods.
“Let’s continue where we left off tomorrow,” you say, glancing over to where Jungkook busies himself at the bar, ignoring the way all of you seem to observe him for a second before you continue, “Looks like you’re not that useless after all.”
“I think he’ll be okay!” Sooyoung says, a bright smile on her face as she looks at Taehyun happily, “I mean, if you keep going the way you are, you’ll definitely survive!”
The way you and Yoongi snicker makes Taehyun’s jaw clench, rolling his eyes at the way they all constantly patronize him— his lack of response is enough to have Sooyoung apologizing softly, saying that she just loves to tease.
“We should go,” you say, throwing your jacket back on and zipping it up all the way, “they’re opening soon, and I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t wanna be in a place like this any longer.”
Yoongi and Sooyoung agree— they mumble something along the lines of “brings back too many memories,” the words making Taehyun raise a brow as he begins to wonder just how many people you knew from that club.
Taehyun feels awkward as he watches them leave— it’s just you and him, and he’s forced to stand around awkwardly as he watches you gather your things, reluctant to leave you for reasons he can’t seem to think of.
“___, you’re not staying?” Jungkook’s soft pout is a stark contrast to the rest of him, decked in full black and piercings that shine under the lights— Taehyun wonders if the bartender is secretly a fighter as well, the muscle that bulges from his arm not remotely subtle, even under the sleeves of his shirt.
“Nah, I’m too tired. I took a good beating ‘cause of you,'' you say, watching as Jungkook only smiles sheepishly. Your body feels sore and you’re more than ready to go home and rest, but the way Jungkook continues to give you puppy eyes suggests that you might have to fight him off too.
“I can patch you up,” he says, and you’re rolling your eyes at the way he flutters his eyes at you, “I haven’t seen you in so long— you’re never at the restaurant, you know.”
“Well, I am kinda busy,” you say, nodding softly at Taehyun who, to your surprise, is still at your side.
Jungkook remains silent for a second. His eyes leave yours as they inspect Taehyun, analyzing the man who simply huffs and crosses his arms in annoyance. Meeting his eyes, Taehyun refuses to back down, raising a brow as he waits for Jungkook to say something to him.
“Aren’t you tired of being around him all the time?” Jungkook finally speaks, clearly set on ignoring Taehyun as he turns back to you— his smile is seemingly innocent as he leans against the counter, ignoring his duties as he continues to try to get you to stay, “I can bet you I’m more fun to be around than him.”
“Noona,” Taehyun says, his voice stern and clear as speaks. This time, you both turn to him; your shock is clear on your face, eyes wide and confused as your brows knit together, wondering where the sudden formality appeared from.
“We should go. This place is opening soon,” he says, watching as your mouth opens in an attempt to respond— though you can’t seem to figure out what to say, and Taehyun is quick to roll his eyes and go ahead— with one last glance at Jungkook, you bid him goodbye, feeling oddly tense as you follow Taehyun outside.
“Shit,” he hears you say, though he doesn’t pay any mind to it as he stands outside— the smell of rain lingers in the air, the city alight and busy even after dark hours— from behind him, he can still hear you mumbling to yourself, your words incoherent and irritated to his ears.
“You know, if you wanted to stay with that guy you could’ve—“ he’s stopped short by the sight of you, brows furrowed together and a sleeve pressed firmly to your nose as you curse under your breath— though the blood that ran out of your nose still clings to your chin, and you have yet to wipe it off as you continue to complain about the issue quietly, digging in your bag as you ignore Taehyun.
“Hey, you don’t happen to have tissues, do you—?”
The answer is a definite no. Taehyun can feel himself acting on impulse— maybe it was because the sight made him cringe, or maybe he was looking out for your safety— but next thing he knows, he’s tugging you along, away from the hidden building and straight to the convenience store a block away.
“Wait, where are we even going?” You ask, unable to put up much of a fight as you focus on keeping the bleeding under control. Taehyun doesn’t answer, and when you attempt to tug your arm out of his grip, all you get in response is the feeling of his fingers tightening around you.
“Tissues,” Taehyun mumbles, tugging you into the store without a second thought.
You feel oddly awkward around him— you’re not used to seeing him like this— he’s quiet, serious and not the same person that’s always trying to piss you off with some ridiculous comment. Instead, he’s oddly tentative, and you find yourself sitting at the table placed outside as you watch him rummage through the bag, pulling out one thing after another as you sit there, pressing the tissue he gave you a bit firmer to your nose.
“This wasn’t necessary, you know,” you say quietly, eyes narrowing as you observe him carefully— despite your constant reassurance that you didn’t want him to spend on you, you currently watch him eat his instant noodles in silence, your own still covered up and warm while the two of you wait for your nose bleed to die down— though you pretend otherwise, you notice the way he glances at you every other second to see how you’re doing, offering to pour you a bit of soju that you decline with a soft scoff.
“A ‘thank you’ would suffice,” he comments, his words muffled through a mouthful of noodles— he ignores your scolding to not talk with his mouth full, clicking your tongue in annoyance as you only get a roll of his eyes in return.
“Yeah…. thanks,” you mutter, barely audible as you take the tissue away from your nose slowly— Taehyun is mid-bite as he freezes, eyes darting up to observe you— and you smile slightly, relieved to feel that your nose bleed is finally gone.
“Ugh, that was so annoying,” you grumble, wiping at your face for any blood that’s still there; you’re fussing quietly to yourself, unable to notice as Taehyun begins to rummage through his plastic bag once more, finally finding his desired item before he throws it at you, the small packet landing right in front of you unceremoniously.
“Here,” is all he says, avoiding any more eye-contact as he goes back to eating, the ramen disappearing within seconds from how quickly he eats.
An odd silence falls between you; the ‘thank you’ you let out is barely audible, your demeanor awkward as you open the packet of wet wipes he tossed at you— he simply nods at you in response, and you find yourself feeling tense as you watch him sit back in his seat, shameless in the way he stares you down, clear in thought as he presses his lips together.
“Back at the club,” you begin awkwardly, folding the wet tissue in your hands as you speak, “you called me “noona”— the hell was that about? You’re not one for formalities.”
“But you’re older, aren’t you?” Taehyun says, oddly unfazed by your sudden line of questioning, “Thought I might as well start, if we’re spending so much time together.”
“Not even Beomgyu calls me that,” you say, bristling at the way he quotes Jungkook— you feel oddly flustered by the sudden title, even more so when Taehyun simply looks up at you after a moment— his eyes are wide and innocent as he observes you, and slowly, he breaks out into a soft smile.
“I’m just being polite,” he says, straightening in his seat as he tilts his head, “Noona.”
“Enough of that,” you bark out, gritting your teeth at the way he only grins at your response, “We need to talk strategy— your fight’s a few days away.”
“Right, right,” Taehyun says, chopsticks circling the inside of his bowl as pauses, thinking back to the man he only got a glimpse of in FightX, “Jongseong— what’s he like?”
The sudden question has you sitting back in your chair, deep in thought as you think back to Jongseong— The Cobra, or the scrawny thirteen-year-old boy that stumbled into Minho’s convenience store by what you thought was an accident.
“Can you teach me how to fight?” He had asked you, eyes wide and innocent as he stared up at you, a mere sixteen-year-old that worked at Minho’s store as a side hustle. You remembered pretending as though you had no idea what he was talking about, laughing off the way his curious gaze drifted over the pain patches on your shoulders and your bruised knuckles.
“Where’s your mother?” You remembered asking, incredulous at the way he refused to leave or buy anything; instead, he insisted that you teach him to fight, gluing his feet to the floor despite the fact that you chose to ignore any questions he had about you and your secret hobbies.
“Don’t know,” he admitted casually, and it wasn’t until then that you noticed his roughed up appearance, his face dirtied and bruised, and his hair filled with dirt and twigs, “she doesn’t come home until night time. I’m alone right now.”
“What… happened to your face?” You asked him, leaning on the counter to get a closer look; you remember reaching over to rid his hair of the dirt, watching as he scrunched his face and slapped your hand off in reaction— the sight of him was an eerie mirror of your own before you found Minho, your brows furrowing at the tough front this kid seemed to put up.
“Some stupid kids at my school,” he brushed you off, running a hand through his hair as he felt the dirtiness of it with a wince; looking back at you, he took in your concerned expression, frowning at the sight as he leaned against the counter.
“You know,” he says, raising a brow at the way you study his injuries, “If you’re that worried, why don’t you teach me how to fight?”
His proposition caught your attention— his words were reminiscent of your own, years ago, when you stumbled upon Minho’s small club by accident, a sad attempt to find asylum— and suddenly, you found yourself thinking it through.
“Okay. But just for self-defense.”
“So you practically raised him,” Taehyun says, the very thought of it making you shiver as you shake your head no, your eye twitching at his words, “No? Well, you did train him, right?”
“Well, he trained for a good two years. Yoongi and I trained him for a while since everyone was too busy to deal with another newbie, and Minho…” sighing, you go to open your own instant noodles, now cooled and a bit soggy as you wince slightly at the sight, “Minho had the idea to throw him in the ring after he reached fifteen.”
You still remember his first fight— you remember being strictly against it the moment Minho proposed it, sudden and instant as he quickly escorted Jongseong away from you; you, being freshly out of a match, barely had any energy to fight back properly.
“This isn’t what he wants. This is too dangerous, Minho,” you remembered telling him, trying to reason with him despite the roaring spectators drowning your voice out. You remembered how Jongseong looked under Minho’s arm; small, skittish and tense, his eyes flicking around the cage in attempts to familiarize himself with the layout as Minho’s fingers only dug deeper into his shoulder.
“Of course it’s what he wants,” Minho responded, always quick to leave you helpless with the way he towered over you, a Cheshire smile on his lips as his eyes twinkled with a dangerous delight, “Don’t you remember how you were in your first fight? Could barely throw a punch.”
Before you could argue, Minho continued.
“You know he has potential. What, afraid he’ll steal the spotlight from you and Yoongi?” Jongseong’s eyes flickered to you then— and in that moment, you realized just how long Minho seemed to have prepared him for this moment, the deep breath he took stabilizing him momentarily as Minho leaned down to speak quietly in his ear.
“Do you know how much money you could make from today’s match?” Minho had told Jongseong sweetly, and the two of them looked over to the other side of the cage, where his opponent waited for him, “It’s your first match— but I’ve given you an easy kill, I know you’ll win.”
An easy kill— that was definitely one way to describe Jongseong’s victory. You watched first hand as the fear drained from Jongseong’s face, replaced with a dangerous gaze that you had never seen before; you watched as he threw perfect jabs, calculated and lethal as he landed hook after hook on his opponent.
Even now, you can’t help but feel surprised at how protective you got over him— especially when he was sent flying with a kick to the stomach, crashing against the ground and leaving you tense as you watched the way he didn’t move.
At the memory, you laugh softly— your eyes flicker up to Taehyun’s, your tone grim as you speak.
“That was his winning move.”
His opponent got sloppy— he let his guard down, approaching Jongseong so casually that the punch he got to the jaw was definitely deserved— and though his body crashed to the floor and Jongseong was able to get the higher ground, he didn’t stop.
“He doesn’t care if you’re down. He doesn’t care if he’s won,” you grit out, your appetite lost as you stare down at your cold food, the memory of Jongseong landing hit after hit to his weakened opponent making you frown.
You still remember the look in his eyes as the referee tore him off his opponent; wild and hungry, still lusting for blood as he attempted to shake the authority figure off. Even when his eyes met yours, horrified at the person Jongseong transformed into, he didn’t care, his grin only widening as the referee announced his name, the audience going wild at the way his arm was thrust up in victory.
The spectacle of his lethal fighting style earned him his special nickname; Minho’s triumphant smile left a sick feeling in your stomach, forced to listen to the way the announcers paraded around Jongseong like a killer animal.
After that day, you watched Jongseong grow into the person he is today; cold, calculated, and borderline murderous.
“Every time I look at him, I’m reminded of the kid who came to me looking to learn self-defense,” you chuckle dryly, frowning at the memory, “Then I remember who he’s become, and I can’t help but feel responsible for it.”
“When I met Beomgyu through that god-forsaken club, I was reminded of Jongseong,” the sudden revelation has Taehyun listening intently, leaning in to watch as your eyes drift off to the city around you, foggy and reminiscent as you tell him your story.
“For some reason, I thought that maybe this time, I could prevent him from becoming a monster,” you mutter, leaning your chin into your palm as you sigh, “Though, I don’t think I like this outcome either.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Taehyun quickly interjects, and he flinches slightly at the way your eyes flicker back to meet his, regarding him for a moment before you smile.
“I know. It was yours.”
He’s not sure how to respond to that; he’s not sure if he should, unsure of what he should say or do as you stare him down silently— after a second, you’re breaking out into a soft laugh, tired and broken up as you wince from the feeling of your bruised ribs.
“I’m just fuckin with you,” you say, sitting up at you take in the way Taehyun visibly relaxes, “You didn’t force Beomgyu to do anything. It was all out of his free will.”
“And I kinda know that you lied about the whole thing being your idea.”
Your confession has Taehyun looking like a deer in headlights— it’s enough to make you laugh, easing the tense mood as he asks you how you knew.
“I had my suspicions from the very beginning,” you say, pausing for a second before you add cheekily, “And, Beomgyu told me.”
“Ah,” he mumbles, biting his lip as he tries to smile at you, “Sorry I lied.”
“Don’t be. It’s interesting that you chose to cover for him,” you say, returning the awkward smile as you add, “I should be the one sorry. For slapping the shit out of you.”
The two of you laugh— though, it’s a bit tense, and a silence falls between you two after.
“You… met Beomgyu? At that club?” He asks after a moment, watching the way you nod without hesitation.
“Yeah. He was sixteen, I made sure to kick him out and warn him once I saw how his worried mother came looking for him. And it worked, for like two years. Then…”
“Then Jin’s club opened.”
You raise a brow at his words, pausing in surprise before you’re nodding slowly.
“Yeah, then Seokjin’s club opened,” you repeat slowly, frowning at the way he already knew, “Beomgyu found himself involved there, and it wasn’t long before his mother came to FightX looking for him. Jin’s club wasn’t as shady— I mean, compared to FightX, that place was like a church. I knew I didn’t have much to worry about, but I still decided to train him for a while… just to be safe.”
Taehyun sees the way your eyes are filled with nostalgia, a soft smile forming on your face from the memories.
“That’s kinda how I ended up where I am now. I could only drag Beomgyu back to his house so many times before his mother started treating me like family too,” meeting Taehyun’s gaze, you’re surprised to see him listening to you intently— it has you tensing slightly, not realizing how much you’ve revealed about yourself until now.
“So,” you start, clearing your throat awkwardly from the way Taehyun’s gaze sears into you intensely, “What’s your story? How’d you end up in this scene?”
“Oh, it’s nothing interesting,” Taehyun waves you off, though you refuse to be the only one delving into their personal life as you press Taehyun for details, “Seriously, it’s pretty normal.”
“Well, tell me anyways,” you say softly, tilting your head as you send Taehyun a challenging look, “Might as well get to know each other, if we’re spending so much time together.”
The way he laughs softly at your mocking comment is slightly contagious— and though you pretend otherwise, you notice the bittersweet look on his face as he reaches for the bottle of soju, pouring himself a shot for the first time in a while before he offers you one; with a slight laugh, you accept it.
“I got into mma with a friend of mine— gave me lessons, sparred with each other, all that fancy stuff. We were really close, and getting into this hobby together only made us closer,” he laughed softly at his words, his mind filled with memories as he stared down at the table, “And now… Well. He’s not around anymore. Passed away less than a year ago.”
You frown softly at the way he pours himself another shot— the grief on his face is still fresh, you realize, his gaze hardening as he places the shot cup back down.
“Without him, I felt… lost. I didn’t really know what to do with myself— after a while, I mostly felt angry.” His finger traces around the rim of the cup, slow and steady as he takes a moment to pause, “I hated that feeling. So, I tried finding the next best outlet, and found a few underground clubs. That’s how I met Beomgyu.”
The air is tense from his story; you’ve never been the best at comforting, so you find yourself unsure of what to do. After a moment, Taehyun laughs, taking in your tense expression with amusement, and it’s only then that your eyes fall onto the dimple that digs into his cheeks cutely.
“God, I’m sure he’d go nuts if he knew the shit I got myself into,” he says, running a hand through his hair as he shakes his head, “I’m not sure if he’d want to stop the fight or get front row seats— hell, probably the latter.”
Taehyun is quick to pick up on the glint of amusement in your eyes— he’s just as quick to reach for the soju bottle and pour the two of you another shot, the air much lighter than it was a moment ago as you watch him give you a bright smile, the sight unusual for you as you find yourself giving him an unsure one in return.
“We only have three days left,” Taehyun says, bringing his glass up, watching the way you shake your head in amusement, “Let’s keep up the hard work, noona.”
“Don’t call me that.” You grimace, clinking your glass with his before you’re both downing the liquid—though you can’t help the slight smile that tugs at your lips in amusement, watching as Taehyun slowly becomes more open with you as you let him finish the bottle— I have to drive, idiot, you told him with a sneer, pushing the bottle back to him when he pouted that he shouldn’t be drinking alone.
Taehyun is oddly light—and lightweight— though, not light enough for you to be tugging along back to your car, grimacing at the way he stumbles and knocks into you drunkenly.
“Noona,” he said to you, his words slow as he smiled at the way you snapped at him to not call you that, “Noona, you think I’ll win?”
“Fuck, I hope so,” you grumble, finding your car in the now-filled abandoned parking lot that was close to Jin’s, “It would be a huge fucking waste of time if you didn’t.”
“Okay then,” Taehyun pouts, pushing you away from him and walking off to his own car, only for you to tug him back to your own as you tell him he shouldn’t drive like this, “Why would I wanna be stuck in the car with someone who acts like such a bitch?”
“I act like a bitch because I care,” you bark, opening the car door and shoving him carelessly, only to watch as he turns back to look at you with that same, stupid, patronizing smile.
“If you say so,” he says, his cheeks a bit flushed as he leans back towards you, “Nooooo...na.”
Your reaction is immediate— he feels as though the punch you land on his arm is enough to sober him, rubbing the sore area with a drunken pout.
“Get in the damn car.”
⊹⊹⊹
You currently stand outside FightX. There’s an hour left before the match.
You pace around in worry, unable to stand still as you hear the ruckus of the club and it’s awaiting patrons inside. Your brows are knitted in a deep frown and you can’t fight the way you bite your lip anxiously as you walk around in restless circles, over and over as you’re left in deep thought.
“Stop that, you’re making me dizzy,” a voice calls out, snapping you out of your daze as you watch Taehyun walk up with a leisurely smile on his face— the sight is almost unnerving, his mood a complete opposite from yours as you watch him adjust the strap of his bag on his shoulder, taking a moment before he’s standing before you.
“Aren’t you nervous?” You ask, watching as he simply shakes his head without hesitation, “you’d be stupid not to be— although, that does make sense…”
“Hey,” he says, lips pressed into a line as he frowns at you, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t degrade me before the match. You’re messing up my concentration.”
“Right. Of course,” you huff out, looking away and missing the way that Taehyun smiles, taking in your jittery figure with amusement— his expression is immediately dropping the moment you look back at him, and he’s mentally cursing at himself for suddenly being so weird.
“Are you gonna make me workout before the match or something? Why are we here so early?” He asks, tilting his head and taking in your attire slowly; it’s not what you wear when you train him, but it’s still light and athletic as he raises a brow at your apparel, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to wear my energy out just yet.”
“I’m not making you do anything, I just needed you to be here so you could get into the right mindset.” you say, and your response is enough to leave Taehyun silent as he stares at you; it’s odd, and you find yourself unnerved by his analytic stare. “What? What’s wrong with you now?”
“Are you worried?” He asks, his question sudden as he takes a step toward you— startled, you try your best to remain unfazed, resisting the urge to take a step back as you take in his sudden proximity.
“Worried? About what?” You say, your responses much too curt to seem natural; mentally, you’re cursing at yourself for feeling so odd, unable to hide what you’re thinking as well as you usually are— especially under Taehyun’s scrutinizing gaze.
“Worried…. That I’ll lose?” He says, leaning in slightly to get a better look at your face; you refuse to pull away, looking into his eyes and keeping your expresion blank despite how close he is— his scent is invading your senses, oddly alluring as you finally get a good look at the man before you, “Or… no.”
Another pause. You don’t know what Taehyun might say next, but judging by the way his lips twitch with the hint of a smile, you know you won’t like it.
“Maybe… worried I’ll get hurt?”
Your eye twitches.
“Hmm. Okay,” he says, quick to catch your small reaction as he backs away, a smug smile on his face— you frown, wondering what he might be insinuating as you send him an incredulous look.
“Okay? Okay what?” You say, watching as Taehyun chooses to remain silent— his sudden refusal to speak to you has you far more annoyed than you’d like, slapping his arm and telling him to look at you, irked by the way he deliberately ignores your request and looks around in wonder, “Okay what? Of course I’m concerned!”
Your sudden confession has Taehyun’s gaze snapping back to yours.
“If The Cobra takes you out, we lose. And if we lose,” you pause, taking in Taehyun’s expression— he’s bewildered, mouth slightly parted as he listens to your irritated words— “If we lose… seriously, will you stop looking at me like that?”
“If we lose…” he repeats slowly, and your frown only deepens in response, “You said we.”
“Yeah…?”
“You’re… coaching me?”
“No, I’m getting front row seats and betting against you,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and smacking Taehyun’s bicep in annoyance, “Yes, I’m coaching you. Wouldn’t be here wasting my time if I wasn’t.”
The way Taehyun’s eyes are sparkling under the lights is slightly creepy— you don’t think you’ve even seen such a genuine expression on him before, and you can only take a step back in uncertainty as Taehyun smiles at you; a genuine, soft smile.
“Right, it’s just…” he pauses, clearing his throat before he’s reaching towards you to return the hit you gave him moments ago— though it’s a bit stiff, and you’re raising a brow at the action as you watch Taehyun carefully, “Haven’t had a coach in a while.”
Oh.
You’re sure the thought shows on your face, the reminder of Taehyun’s past life coming back to the forefront of your mind with a slight pang of guilt— though Taehyun doesn’t let you dwell on it, making fun of your face and prodding at you with enough annoying comments that you have to meditating to not slap the shit out of him.
“If you don’t shut up, I’ll beat you before your match even starts,” you hiss, your threat enough of an incentive to get him off your back, “Yoongi and Sooyoung are coming as well. We’ll wait for them before we go in.”
“Are they really?” Taehyun asks, and you simply nod in response— the thought of Sooyoung watching him fight wasn’t exactly pleasant, and he finds himself thinking back to the nickname you gave her in the ring, “Joy… what an odd name. Did you ever get a title back here? I don’t think you ever mentioned it.”
“Because I didn’t have one,” you huff, rolling your eyes at the way he seems surprised by that, “My name was enough intimidation for them.”
Wowww, Taehyun cooed, the patronizing gesture enough to have you reaching to smack him on instinct— though it seems as though your move was too predictable for him, flinching out of the way with ease and continuing to send you that stupid smug smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he continued to try and provoke you.
“If you two are done with this weird tension, we’d like to go in now,” the look Yoongi sends you is enough to have your face heating up with embarrassment, unsure of what he might mean with his words as you shake your head in annoyance— grabbing Taehyun’s elbow, you lead him down the steps, watching as Yoongi and Sooyoung follow behind with teasing eyes.
“Yoongi, did you have to bring your men along? It’s already crowded enough in there as it is,” you groan, your head beginning to ache at the sight of the packed club— Yoongi simply scoffs, telling you better safe than sorry as he gestures for the two of you to go inside.
“Go find Minho,” Yoongi nudges you, and you nod firmly at his words, “Make sure to let him know we are also here.”
If you insist, you mumble, ready to go off before you feel Sooyoung grab onto your elbow, tugging you back to get your attention— the moment your eyes meet, she sends you a bright smile, pairing it with a thumbs up as she squeezes your arm in reassurance.
“You got this!” She says, letting you go and watching as you weave through the crowd with Taehyun in tow.
“You think we’ll win?” Yoongi mutters in Sooyoung’s ear, watching the way her smile tenses a bit.
“I prayed a little yesterday.”
⊹⊹⊹
“…from what I remember, he’s very straightforward; very serious— spends a good couple of minutes gauging what kind of fighter you are before he strikes. I need you to be careful during this match, okay? Fight with your brain, not just your fists.”
You’ve been talking Taehyun’s ear off for an impressively long time. Taehyun didn’t think it was possible to see you like this, restless and fidgety as you followed him into the locker to give him a pep talk. There was ten minutes left before the fight.
“Relax, I got this,” Taehyun says, and he’s greeted with an unamused look of yours in return, “I didn’t watch you and Joy beat the hell out of each other for nothing, you know.”
The mention of your matches with Sooyoung is enough to have you cringing; while it was good for Taehyun to get a grasp of what you and Yoongi might’ve taught Jongseong and vice-versa, it wasn’t as good to leave sore after each training day you spent with him.
“Can’t believe I did that,” you mutter to yourself, leaning against the lockers behind you in dismay. Though by the way you can hear Taehyun laugh at you mockingly, you know he picked up on it as well.
“You care more than you let on, noona,” he smiles, your eye twitching at the name; you have yet to get used to this sudden formality, and Taehyun is clearly taking advantage of it, judging by the way his smile only widens with your every reaction.
“Noona?” The source of the voice is from someone you’d never forget; both you and Taehyun are looking over at the entrance in an instant, and you can feel your eyes widen as you take in the way Jongseong stands there, much more grown than the last time you saw him.
“Oh. Hi,” you grit out awkwardly, cringing at how tense you sound.
“Hi? Is that all you have to say?” He asks, walking toward you without hesitation; his hair is black and slicked back neatly, a stark contrast to the messy brown hair he could never bother to style when he was younger, “it’s been three years, you disappeared without a trace!”
You’re not sure what he’s going to do as he approaches you in a hurry— hug you, maybe— because he pauses, taking in the sight of Taehyun sitting in front of you, his eyes narrowing as he takes a moment to take the man in.
“You’re…” he pauses, brows furrowing as he goes deep in thought for a second, “Taehyun.”
Taehyun’s name falls from his lips with pure disdain; Jongseong is looking between you and him, his face dropping with disappointment as everything begins to click together in his mind.
“I was hoping Minho was lying,” Jongseong mutters, taking a step back from you as he meets your eyes; he no longer holds the same, wide and nostalgic gaze that greeted you when you first saw him. Instead, it’s cold and scathing, a reflection of the dangerous man you’re preparing Taehyun to face in the ring.
“You’re coaching him, then?” He asks, and all you can do is nod as you take in the anger in his eyes, wondering what lies Minho has been feeding him to look at Taehyun with such hatred, “I see.”
He’s backing away from you. You feel as though you’re losing him all over again as you watch his eyes turn to you, filled with nothing but restless anger as he sends you a vicious smile.
“Try not to lose another one, noona,” he says, feigning a pout as he takes in the way your jaw clenches at his words. His eyes flicker over to Taehyun, pleased to find that his jab seems to have affected him, as well, “Good luck. You’ll definitely need it.”
He lets out a bitter laugh, waving you off before he’s out of sight. It’s quiet, and you’re unsure of what to say now that it’s just the two of you. Sighing, you look back at Taehyun, only to see that his eyes were already on you.
You gulp.
Taehyun has never looked this angry; his jaw is clenched and his brows are furrowed as he leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs as he jerks his head side to side— the cracks of his neck have you wincing, though you don’t think he cares, his lips pressing together for a moment before he breaks out into a breathy laugh.
His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, a smile spreading across his face, fangs dangerous as he bites his lip in a failed attempt to suppress it.
“I can’t wait to fuck him up.”
⊹⊹⊹
The place is packed.
It’s deafening as you make your way to the cage, Taehyun stuck to your side as the patrons make a path for you; you try not to tense at the feeling of Taehyun’s hand on your waist, pulling you in and keeping you away from the men that stare at you with a disgusting hunger.
Their excitement is deafening. It makes your head pound and your concentration waver, jolting into Taehyun from the way people try to reach out for you— the call of your name by old regulars isn’t lost on you, but you try to grit your teeth and ignore it.
“They’re here for you,” Taehyun muses quietly, leaning into you so you can hear him. You scoff, shaking your head as you finally reach the cage’s entrance; Jongseong is already inside, waiting.
“They’re here for you,” you say, watching as Taehyun unzips his jacket and hands it to you; he grins at that, and you’re scolding him to put in his mouthpiece so he can’t come up with a stupid comeback.
“Go get ‘em tiger,” you grin, watching as Taehyun can only shake his head in amusement. Your eyes flicker back to where Jeongseong stands, chatting idly with his own coach— your expression turns grim at the sight of Minho giving him tips with a bright smile.
Your hands are warm as you reach out to Taehyun; grabbing both sides of his face, cradling his jaw as you’re pulling him in towards you boldly— he’s slightly caught off guard by your action, eyes widening as he’s forced to remain silently and stare at you stupidly.
“Light on your feet. Be calm. Preserve your energy,” you say to him, repeating all the tips you’ve given him through three curt sentences. He nods, and you nod along with him, slightly amused at the sight of him.
“You got this. I believe in you.”
You’re pushing him into the cage after that.
The floor is scuffed and old. It’s nothing in comparison to Jin’s pristine cage, and Taehyun is finally beginning to take it all in as he looks out, the club packed and rowdy as he scans through the crowd; he spots Yoongi and Sooyoung, the two giving him a nod and a thumbs up the moment their eyes meet.
“Tonight’s match looks quite interesting,” a voice booms out, and Taehyun looks over to the commentator’s table, able to recognize the two faces that beam back at him in excitement— Taemin and Kibum, if he remembers right.
“Not only is it winner-takes-all, but we also seem to have a legend in our midst— if not, two,” Taemin’s smile is ear to ear as the crowd grows louder, and Taehyun is able to spot you shrinking slightly from the sudden attention.
“The king and queen of FightX— sound familiar?” If the crowd’s reaction is any indication of their answer, then Taehyun would say yes. Kibum’s laugh echoes around the cage, and Taehyun feels overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.
“Not only that, but apparently she’s coaching this guy too!” Taemin and Kibum are off in their own world as they chatter, and Taehyun can’t help but wonder when the theatrics will end and the match will start.
“Minho even seems to have stepped up for today— the best of the best, hmm?”
Minho is more than willing to indulge in all the fanfare; in the ring, Jongseong only rolls his eyes, clearly as impatient as Taehyun.
“Oooh, now now, we should probably stop,” Kibum grins, nudging Taemin playfully, “It looks like our fighters are getting restless.”
“Right, we should probably get on with it,” Taemin agrees, though the way they both continue to talk says otherwise, “This is what you all came to see, right?!”
More cheers.
Taehyun has begun drowning everyone out at this point. Even when the referee steps inside and gestures for the two to come to him, he can’t bring himself to listen. Instead, he focuses, his eyes never straying from the man before him.
The Cobra seems to be just as concentrated as him. His gaze is dangerous and he’s restless as he shifts in front of Taehyun, lips twitching into a smile as the referee asks them to be courteous, to touch gloves.
Neither of them move.
Three rounds, he hears the referee remind them— then he’s stepping back, gauging their reactions before the loud bell rings out, signaling that the fight has begun.
Jongseong moves immediately— but he doesn’t strike, and Taehyun’s eyes narrow at the way he remains in a low stance, swaying slightly as he remains on guard; his constant movement makes it difficult for Taehyun to hit him, and he’s left unamused at the way Jongseong seems to taunt and bluff with a mocking smile.
He throws out meaningless jabs, not bothering to hit him properly as he continues to grin and mess around. This behavior is a strong contrast to the characteristics you warned him of; He keeps his fists close to his face, a complete opposite of Jongseong, who’s body remains relaxed.
Usually, Taehyun would see this as a weakness; he’s left unguarded, goading the audience that only seems to yell at Taehyun to do something— to take the bait. If anything, the way Jongseong smiles through his mouthpiece is enough to remind him of Sooyoung; confident, skilled, quick and agile enough that he can afford to keep his body open as a bluff.
Taehyun throws a left hook as a test. Immediately, Jongseong is jumping back, dodging it and putting his hands up with such speed that Taehyun could’ve missed it if he blinked. Jongseong’s eyes narrow, and it seems as though he’s realized that Taehyun has caught on to his show tactics.
There’s no room to play around anymore. Jongseong seems to have thrown out any tactics to bait Taehyun, choosing to throw punch after punch instead, a slight form of bait on its own.
Taehyun could fight back. He could retaliate to the blows on his forearms and sides, could try to land a few kicks on the man before him and try to injure him. But he would also waste all his energy in the first round, potentially leaving him vulnerable to The Cobra’s attacks in later rounds. It’s clear that’s what he wants— Taehyun throws a punch here and there to make it seem as though he’s falling into the trap, but your words to preserve his energy ring out in his head all the while.
The action to remain on defense makes Taehyun look like a coward. But he doesn’t really mind, especially with the way Jongseong grows cocky, a confident smile broad on his face as he lets his guard down slightly, laughing along to the scathing comments the audience throws at him.
His rear hand falters for a second. And in that second, Taehyun is able to deliver a right hook, his padded fist colliding with Jongseong’s jaw and sending him stumbling off, the people roaring and drowning out the sound of the commentator’s ramblings.
One minute on the clock, will he be able to get another hit in?! Taehyun is effortless to drown out Kibum’s cries, stepping back the moment Jeongseong is back on his feet— for a moment, the two circle each other, and Taehyun can see the way his opponent’s eyes scan him, mind rapidly thinking of a way to counter his most recent blow.
Kibum is audibly disappointed at the sound of the first round ending. How uneventful, he mourns, and Taehyun is happy to see that you’ve made it into the cage, Minho trailing behind you as you both get a minute to talk.
“Fuck, good job, that was a good hit,” you immediately say, grabbing Taehyun’s wrist and dragging him to your corner. His mouth is sore as he takes his mouthpiece out, taking slow drinks of the water bottle you hand him as he listens to you.
“He’s a lot more different now. Still agile, but it looks like he likes playing with his food now,” you say, wiping off the sweet that’s gathered on Taehyun’s skin gently; he feels oddly tense at the action, your tender gesture making his heart beat a little faster as he wonders instead if he’s finally beginning to get nervous from the match.
“He definitely knows you’re not one to play with now, but it’s still good to feed into it sometimes,” you pause, your hand stilling on his chest, the thin towel the only barrier between you as you look up at him sternly, “I know I said to preserve more energy, but get more hits out. He has really good stamina.”
Taehyun tries to sear your words into his head as the referee calls for them to get ready for the next round, the two of you exchanging a reassuring look before you’re off.
Like last time, Jongseong doesn’t seem too keen on being friendly before the match.
Taehyun takes your advice quite seriously— though Jongseong is also able to get more hits on him this way, his bottom lip cracking open after a particularly rough punch. Jongseong, Taehyun realizes, mostly fights with his upper body. He’s quick on his feet and dodges hits easily, but Taehyun has yet to be pinned down or hit with a kick— he tries to keep this knowledge to himself, the next five minutes uneventful as the round ends without any memorable hits.
Could it be that The Cobra has met his match? Taemin mused into the mic, grinning at the way the crowd only booed in response. Ignore that, you muttered in his ear, rolling your eyes at the way the two commentators were still just as annoying as you remembered.
“He only punches,” Taehyun comments, his brows furrowing as he looks over to Jongseong’s corner, “No kicks, clinches, anything. It’s odd.”
“Because he’s saving it for the last round,” you tell him, reaching up to brush the hair from his forehead— you’re serious, trying your best to hide the worry on your face as you warn him, “I’m telling you— he likes to play with his food. Be extra careful, I’m sure he’ll try pulling something new on you.”
The referee calls the break to an end. Pressing your lips together, and you’re nodding as you step back to leave.
“Go all in now. Everything you got, now’s the time to use it.”
The way Minho laughs as you meet him at the cage entrance has you scoffing; Taehyun can see the older man talking to you, though he’s unable to try and see what he’s saying as the referee calls the fighters to the center.
“Last round,” he reminds, placing a hand on both their shoulders, “Clean, fair fight, okay?”
Jongseong nods— then, he reaches forward, offering his gloves to Taehyun.
The slight twitch of his lips is mischievous. Slowly, Taehyun does the same; their gloves touch softly, the commentators quick to point it out as the match begins.
Jeongseong throws a punch instantly.
It’s like a switch has been flipped in his mind. His eyes are filled with eager bloodlust and alight with adrenaline, throwing hit after hit at Taehyun with no signs of stopping. All Taehyun can do is defend himself, unable to get an opening as he’s forced to take the blows Jongseong delivers.
Taehyun thinks he might have an opening the moment the man backs up, hands going down and leaving him unguarded for a second— but as Taehyun throws out a punch, he’s met with a harsh kick to his side, shocking him and knocking him off balance as Jongseong quickly uses it to his advantage.
He’s disoriented with how quickly Jongseong wraps around him; limbs tangled, arms around his neck in such a strong chokehold that Taehyun can already feel his head pounding. Is he gonna tap out? He can hear the commentators asking, forcing him to grit his teeth and throw punches at Jeongseong’s head and sides in an attempt to throw him off.
It seems to work; he’s somehow landed a punch directly to his nose, and the man behind him is stunted by the blow, his hold faltering and giving Taehyun the opening he needed to escape.
Quick to get up, Taehyun slowly catches his breath. Two minutes on the clock! He hears them yell. Jongseong has yet to get up, the blood dripping from his nose making his eyes widen in shock, watching as he struggles to stumble to his feet, still disoriented from the blow.
Jongseong’s eyes meet Taehyun’s; he’s tired, a panting mess and reflection of him as he slowly makes his way to Taehyun, stumbling slightly and heavy on his feet as he winces— an easy finish. For a second, Taehyun can feel himself relax, the tension in his body releasing as he watches Jongseong carefully.
Jongseong takes in Taehyun’s shift instantly— Taehyun is jumping back before he can process it, eyes widening at the way Jongseong aimed a right hook for him, the swing of his arm ripping through the air as he stumbles slightly from the lack of impact.
Then, he’s knocked back.
Taehyun can barely process the way his body moved with such acute precision, spinning and twisting just as you taught him as he lands with no problem, the feeling of him colliding right into Jongseong oddly instinctual; he watches as the man jolts from the impact, his body stiffening and his eyes rolling back as he can only fall from the impact to his body— to his head.
The sound of his body colliding against the floor is loud, Jongseong’s face blank as he simply lays there, eyelids flickering and mind swimming in and out of consciousness as the referee runs to him.
After a moment, the winner is declared.
Taehyun is unable to process anything— the sounds of the audience roaring, the feeling of his arm being thrust into the air, the sight of Jongseong lying on the ground still— he doesn’t process anything, eyes drifting around and looking for one thing like habit.
There you are, face alight with joy as you cheer furiously.
Taehyun laughs slightly— it’s a bit pained, and he winces at the feeling of his sore body, the referee finally letting go of his hand as he stumbles out towards the exit, and straight towards you, pulling his mouth guard out with a wince.
“You did it!” You grin, your voice clear as day, even through the bewildered chatter of the rest as you wave him over. “Fuck, you really did it!”
Taehyun thinks you might hit him again, like you always do; instead, he feels you grab his face, your own alight with euphoria as you tug him into you and crash your lips against his— he barely has enough time to process things before you’re pulling away, your expression sobering as you take in what you just did.
“Hey!” Yoongi calls out, attempting to weave through the crowd as you turn around to the source of the distraction, “Find Minho, make sure he doesn’t try to slip away!”
“Right,” you respond, turning back to look at Taehyun— he’s left frozen and bewildered as he looks at you, mouth slightly agape as you feel a heat rush to your face.
He attempts to call after you, but you’re slipping away before he can get you to stay.
He can still feel the ghost of your lips against his.
⊹⊹⊹
“You guys are insane,” Beomgyu huffs, laying back in his bed with a slight wince, “My mother would be mortified if she found out what you did to get this money.”
“It’s a shame we had to get it at all,” you say, glaring at Beomgyu and watching as he shrinks under your gaze, muttering a quiet sorry, sorry in response. Sighing, you shake your head, taking in Beomgyu’s condition with a smile, “you know, after all these expenses, I think we might just have a bit left over.”
“We could go on a trip,” Beomgyu says without hesitation, and you shake your head in amusement.
“Focus on getting better first,” you scold, smiling at the way Beomgyu lets out a yes ma’am! In response, “I need to go. Visiting hours are over.”
“I’m supposed to get discharged in two days, don’t forget me!” He calls out, and you choose to ignore it as you exit, stopping in your tracks as you close the door behind you softly.
The last thing you expected was to see Taehyun waiting for you, patched up and changed as he leaned against the wall.
“Hey,” you smile, albeit a bit awkward— he says nothing, and you clear your throat, nodding back to the room behind you nervously, “Visiting hours are over. Uhm, maybe come back tomorrow?”
“I’m not here to see him,” he says, raising a brow at the way you only send him a confused look, “I’m here to see you.”
“And what could you possibly want from me?” Your steps are brisk as you begin to walk back to the exit; Taehyun is just as quick behind you, trying to get your attention to no avail.
“What do you mean what could I possibly want? You’re not one to act stupid, noona,” he says, hot on your trail as you finally make it outside.
You know he’s right— and yet, you feel terribly awkward about it, refusing to look back at him as you begin to wonder where you could have parked, wandering around the quiet lot— you’re a few feet away from your car when Taehyun grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks and turning you around harshly, his eyes angry as he looks at you.
“You kissed me.”
“What?” You say, trying to shake his hold off as you look up at him with shining, innocent eyes, your right one twitching for a second, “What is this, some kind of adrenaline-induced hallucination? Don’t be weird.”
“Hallucination—” he’s in disbelief as he begins cornering you, your back pressing flat against the driver’s door as he practically towers over you, his free hand planted by your head and caging you in, “The way you felt against me felt very real.”
You gulp. This was weird— this was new, something that you definitely had not accounted for, because as you stare at Taehyun, his gaze intense and his face inches away from yours, you can’t help but feel your face heat up.
“It’s— it meant nothing,” you stutter out, heart pounding at the way he very clearly doesn’t believe you, “I wasn’t even thinking, I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
“It meant nothing?” He whispers, his voice low and breathy as he leans in even closer; your eyes are shutting from how close he is, able to feel his breath fan across your cheeks as he lets out a soft laugh, “If it meant nothing, then why have you been avoiding me?”
“I haven’t been—”
“I don’t appreciate you lying to me, noona.”
You’re silent. Your breaths are shaky, lips parted as you wait for him to say something.
After a second, his lips press against yours.
For a second, it’s gentle; unsure, waiting for you to pull away and tell him to leave you alone— instead, you let out a breathy sigh, your lips beginning to move against his.
The moment you reciprocate is the moment he loses control. His hands are coming up to your face, cupping your jaw tenderly and tilting your head up to him, his lips needy and messy as he pries your mouth open, tongue prodding at your mouth before he’s pulling away to sink his teeth into your soft lips— the pained whine you let out has his mind reeling.
You’re breathless and dazed by the time he finally pulls away— you think you can feel your knees go weak at the sight of a string of saliva connecting between the two of you, watching as he smiles at you cruelly, his gaze dark and hazed as his thumb runs across your bottom lip fondly.
“I won just for you,” he breathes out, eyes darkening from the way your tongue runs across the pad of his finger mindlessly.
“Don’t you think I deserve a reward for working so hard?”
⊹⊹⊹
Taehyun’s apartment is nice— well, at least you think. You didn’t really get a chance to get a good look at it.
However, you can confidently say that his bed is nice— you practically sink into the soft mattress, the once neatly done sheets beneath you now a mess from the way you’re squirming under Taehyun.
All he’s done is kiss you— yet, you feel so terribly fucked out and needy, unable to keep your hands off him for even a second, your fingers weaved into his hair and tugging as you feel him moan into your mouth.
“Even now you’re so fucking mean,” he hisses, feeling the way your nails rake down his back; leaving a red trail against his skin, his shirt discarded long ago as he currently worked to get you to do the same. “Shit, I just got out of a match, noona.”
“Shit, you’re right,” you pant, and Taehyun frowns above you as you begin to pull away, “poor baby is too hurt to fuck—”
“I didn’t say that,” he groans, and you’re surprised by the way he takes a hold of your shoulders and pushes you back down into the mattress firmly. He takes this moment to tug your shirt up, throwing it in some random direction before he’s smiling at the sight of you, “Fuck, you have such a smart mouth.”
“Guess it rubbed off,” you say, your words wavering pathetically mid-way, all from the feeling of Taehyun biting and sucking at your neck ruthlessly while his hands came up to feel your breasts, slipping under the fabric and circling your nipples teasingly.
“Yeah? I taught you that?” He asks, nipping at your skin and taking off your bra with swift hands, “Maybe I should teach you how to be good for me then.”
You’re unable to gather your thoughts and bite back— his mouth is sucking at your nipples messily, tongue making a show of it as he groans at the feeling and traces shapes on your skin, too focused on the messy teasing to notice the moment his hand slips past your waistband and cups your pussy.
“Fuck, you’re so sweet for me noona,” he sighs, middle finger running up and down your slit teasingly, feeling the way you practically soak through your panties, “This wet for me already?”
“Don’t let it get to your head,” you grumble, mouth falling open at the way he begins prodding your entrance teasingly, pushing into your hole then going to circle your clit slowly over the fabric.
Taehyun laughs. The way you refuse to submit to him isn’t surprising in the slightest, watching as you refuse to give him reactions with dark eyes, trained carefully onto your face as he feels you get wetter from his motions, taking in what works and what doesn’t simply from the way your face reacts— even if you try to hide it, much to his annoyance.
“What’s wrong noona? Don’t you feel good?” He asks you quietly, his hands already dragging your pants off agonizingly slowly, biting his lip to suppress the smile that threatens to break through, far too amused by this strong front you seem to put up, “I’ll do better then, don’t worry.”
Taehyun is sinking down to his stomach before you can process anything, hands running along your thighs teasingly before they’re hooking under your knees— lifting them up, pressing them against your stomach, able to look down at your glistening pussy with ease.
You’re scrambling to hold on to something the moment he gets his mouth on you— he’s pressing you into the mattress, willing to control the way your hips jump as he presses his tongue flat against your slit, drinking up your wetness and teasing the tip of his tongue along your fluttering hole. The moans you let out are pathetic and embarrassing, your face heating up as you begin to squirm the moment Taehyun wraps his lips around your clit, face buried in your pussy and hair soft tickling against your thighs as he eats you out.
The sounds are enough to make you cover your face— Taehyun is shameless as he eats you out, slurping and sucking and moaning against your cunt loudly— it’s almost as though he were doing it on purpose.
“Taehyun, Taehyun, fuuuck…!” You can’t control your mouth— the sound of his name coming from your lips is enough to make Taehyun moan more against your pussy, cock rutting into the mattress below him as he listens to the sounds you make intently, smiling against your cunt at the sight of you finally breaking under him.
You feel dizzy— the way Taehyun fucks you with his tongue has you whining stupidly, his hand leaving your leg and coming to circle your clit as he continues to fuck you— after a moment, he decides he’s had enough of your squirming under him, his hands reaching to cup your ass before he’s pulling you back into him; your legs are falling over his shoulders, and his face is pressed against your pussy as he grants you no escape.
His grip is bruising on your skin; your thighs close around his head, but he pays no mind to it as he continues to lick at your pussy, gathering your arousal on his tongue before he’s looking back up at you with innocent round eyes, showing it off to you and forcing you to watch as he lets it drip back onto your cunt.
It’s all so messy and overwhelming; you don’t even register the moment you cum on his tongue, your mind going blank and your body relaxing under his hold as he lets you ride out your orgasm, his tongue eager to lick up your release as he lets out soft hums against your cunt.
“Taehyun,” you whimper out weakly, fingers weaving into his hair and tugging at it in order to get him to stop his ministrations— you can hear him complaining to you softly as he refuses to give in, the soft whine of his name only making him want to give you another orgasm— you have to tug harder on his hair to pull him from you, his lips and chin shining with your arousal as he smiles coyly at your reaction; his tongue darts out to lick his lips, wiping at his chin before he’s coming back up to hover over you.
“What happened baby? Just wanted to make you feel good,” He tuts softly, grinning at the way you struggle to come down from your bliss. You don’t seem to realize the moment he’s become completely bare, the feeling of his cock poking at your inner thighs making your snap back to reality, feeling the tip smudge his precum all over your skin as he leans down to kiss you; it’s slow and messy, and he’s eager to push you lips apart and allow you to taste yourself, cradling your jaw as you feel him smile against your lips.
“Why don’t you be quiet for a second? I like you more that way.” the way he frowns at your words has you breaking out into a teasing smile, running your fingers through his hair as you laugh softly— though it quickly falters the moment you feel him rubbing against your slit, his tip running up and down and catching on your clit as your body jolts from the sensation.
“Noona, do you hate me?” He pouts at you, watching as you fail to formulate proper words from the way his tip prods at your entrance, teasingly beginning to stretch you before he pulls out. This continues for a moment, and it’s clear he’s waiting for a response you clearly refuse to give him; frowning, he continues his motions, slowly rutting against your pussy as he looks down at you with sharp eyes, watching as you whine at him to stop teasing— he shakes his head, telling you to answer him, his voice sharp and low as he tightens his grip on your hips, fingers digging into your flesh in a way that has you stuttering your response out weakly.
“N—no.”
“Then why are you so mean to me?” He continues, tilting his head as he finally pushes the tip in; he watches your expression carefully, drinking up the way your brows furrow and your eyes become glossy.
“I… your reactions are cute,” you admit, clenching around Taehyun tightly and watching the way he hisses at the feeling.
“Yeah? They’re cute?” He repeats, straightening up and kneeling as he looks down at you. Your fucked out expression could make Taehyun come on the spot, but instead he grabs a hold of your waist, settling in between your legs and pulling you in close to him.
He’s inside you with one swift push; the yelp you let out is embarrassing and you’re quickly slapping a hand over your mouth, eyes fluttering at the sensation of Taehyun fully inside you, thick and twitching wildly. Taehyun takes your hand away immediately; his fingers are lacing with yours, and he’s smiling sweetly as he looks down at you.
“I think your reactions are cute too,” he’s moving after that, his thrusts slow and deep as he waits for you to adjust to his size. You’re holding tightly onto him as moans and whines fall from you, the sounds only fueling Taehyun further as he slowly begins to fuck you faster.
“Feels nice, noona?” He groans, eyes trained on the way your tits bounce with his every thrust. The way you refuse to admit to him how good he’s making you feel has him rolling his eyes, letting go of your hand and gripping your hips before he’s bringing you back into him, bottoming out and rolling his hips slowly into your cunt as he feels the way you tighten around him, his cock taking in every flutter of your walls around him as he lets out pleased sighs.
“What, too embarrassed to admit that it’s me making you feel good?” He asks, biting his lip as he concentrates on not coming too soon from the way you squeeze him, “You didn’t seem embarrassed when you kissed me in front of all those people earlier.”
“It was in the heat of the moment…” you answer back pitifully, unable to hide the way you can barely speak from the way he fucks you.
“Hmm, okay. If you say so,” he hums, and you’re not given room to fight back as he goes back to fucking you— careless, pulling you back into him, enjoying your sounds with a wicked smile, unable to take his eyes off you for a moment.
The moment his hand slips to rub circles on your clit, you feel your mind go blank— the sounds you make has Taehyun cursing under his breath, the feeling of your walls clenching around him and sucking him in driving him mad as he gets a hold of your thighs, pressing them against your body and putting you into a mating press as he continues to fuck you.
“Tae— Taehyun, ah, please,” you whine out, left defenseless to the way his hips slam against yours, losing his pace and letting out soft groans as he feels himself coming at the sound of your whines of his name— his cum is barely able to stay inside with the way he continues fucking you, cock rutting into your sensitive pussy as you whine at him to slow down.
“Wanna see you do that again,” he mumbles, eyes flicking up to gauge your expression, “Like, a few more times.”
Your pussy tightens around him in response, and he has to bite his lip to suppress the moan that bubbled up his throat. After a second, he’s slowly fucking you again, feeling his cock harden inside you from the sight of his cum escaping you with every thrust.
You don’t know how many times he makes you cum after that— you might’ve blacked out halfway through, Taehyun’s obsession with making you come undone leaving you filled with cum and undeniably sore— he’s insatiable, leaving you a mess under him as you let him use you how he’d like, manhandling you into all sorts of positions as he continues to groan about how good you feel, reassuring you just one more, with your every whine, yet lying each time.
You’re only able to think straight once you’ve found yourself pulled into Taehyun’s chest— the rise and fall of your bodies is relaxing, and you don’t even remember Taehyun cleaning the both of you up as you lie under his covers, the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you very much welcomed.
“So, did this also mean nothing to you?” Taehyun mumbles into the crown of your head, nuzzling into your scent as he struggles to stay awake.
“No. This definitely meant something,” you say, equally as tired as you burrow further into the warmth of his chest. You can hear the deep rumble of his chuckles above you, his hands running across your back soothingly as he speaks.
“And what did it mean?”
A pause. You think you both know what it means, but you won’t give him the satisfaction as you nip at his skin teasingly.
“Means you’re okay, I guess.”
You refuse to admit that Taehyun has you wrapped around his finger— though it’s definitely reciprocated by the way Taehyun laughs at your comment, pulling you in even closer still and cooing jokingly that you looove me, hmm?
God, even now, he was insufferable.
But you kinda liked that about him.
#txt fanfic#txt fanfiction#txt imagines#txt oneshots#txt ff#txt angst#txt fluff#taehyun x reader#taehyun x you#taehyun x y/n#taehyun ff#taehyun imagines#taehyun oneshot#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#taehyun smut
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A Rose for You!
Lyney x Gn!Reader
Pt.2 to Watch and Be Amazed!
{ Ok! Ya'll asked for it. I kinda wanted to write more in the first part but it was already kinda lengthy. As in the last part there wasn't much one on one Lyney and Reader moments. But don't fret dear [Name]! You'll be in the lovely company of this little magical menace for a tour around the Nation! }
! Some Spoilers for the Fontaine Archon Quest Act 1 and some nudges to Lyney and Lynettes Backstory/Personal Stories !
General: sfw, fluff, Grin Malkin Cat, small Freminet and Lynette cameo, Lyney being the charming little flirt he is, flustered Lyney, french, a wee bit of angst here and there towards the end,
It was a new day, and you felt refreshed. Truly, Fontaine is one of the most snazziest places you’ve ever been in. Alongside the technological advancements, there was much attention to the intricacies of decorum and an artistic romanticism in the most mundane activities. Although, the air was a bit smellier than the countryside and the stars couldn’t sparkle as brightly.
You had woken up from your slumber, the sun beaming through the thin curtains by the window. Next to your bedside was a small nightstand with a beautiful lamp and the prop card laying face down.
You rolled a bit around in your bed until you laid on your back facing the ceiling.
Your mind wandered to the events that unfolded last evening. The colorful memory replayed in your mind like moving photographs.
The doves, cats in hats, paper butterflies and a pair of soft lilac eyes.
You sighed.
From the walk to your hotel yesterday, you had viciously tried to recount the events that happened. At what point did Lyney slip this note in your sleeve? And why didn’t you notice sooner?
You had trouble sleeping that night.
Lyney couldn’t have been serious could he? It was just a part of the show, of course he would shower you with pretty words and a suave demeanor . It's part of his charming routine, nothing more.
Then again…
Why did he whisper at you so much? Now you thought about it, you were up there for at least one two..TECHNICALLY FOUR ACTS?! Also, he stopped you after the show to talk. AND NOW HE HANDED YOU A CARD ASKING YOU OUT?! No WaIT- Not ‘Out Out’ like a date or anything, an outing as friends? Can you even call him that?! What acquaintance just requests a day to hang out together? HE ISN'T BREAKING SOME PERFORMER AUDIENCE ETIQUETTE REGULATIONS IS HE?!-
Overthinking can lead to a very unsettled mindset preventing you from getting proper rest.
So here you were, laying like a beached seal on your bed. You didn’t bother to get up right away. Too lazy and your head was fizzed out of thoughts.
You shifted your head around, the bedding beneath you shuffled along. On the nightstand was the prop card you had found in your sleeve last night.
You eyed the shiny piece of paper. The little red grinning cat silhouette on the backside felt like it was taunting you. Calling you pathetic as it stared at you from atop his side table throne.
Stretching your arms above your head, you finally sat up.
You reached and picked up the card, holding it with your index and thumb. Once again you carefully read the words that were written on the front in cursive.
“ I hope you had a magical evening, [Name]. Meet me by the bench near the potted flowers by the station at noon tomorrow. If you show up, best prepare for I still have tricks up my sleeve that will leave you dazzled! ”
You stared at it and noticed it was written on what was a blank playing card.
Staring at how the curved letters formulated each word you wondered.
Meet him at the benches by the Aquabus station by noon. Did you really trust this man? Even though he is technically a celebrity, you just met him not even a day ago.
You swung your feet off the bed, card still in hand. Stepping down onto the small bedside rug, you idled around near the window. It looked to be early morning, you’d guess around eight o’ clock.
“ I don’t have much plans today. Other than wandering the streets and walking into what I think will be interesting.” You said, your voice a bit groggy.
You twirled the card in your hand.
You thought carefully of what you’d do next.
“ I think he might it want back.”
Yeah, that’s it.
“I’m sorry, sir?” You yelped. You had to crane your neck a bit to be able to make eye contact? You didn’t think it had eyes, but nevertheless you made the best effort to stare into its face.
Or what looked to be a face.
You had seen some of them walking about freely in the main city. When you were making your way towards a staircase you bumped into one.
The robotic garde halted and nodded.
‘ Ah, so they can communicate.’
It went back to walking down the street, undeterred. Turning around after that odd exchange you went back to the matter afoot.
You were lost. Lyney never specified which station he’d be waiting in. You were almost half convinced he was going to be at the Marcotte Line; the one closest to the Opera Epiclese. Although, the more you thought about it the less likely he would be there.
He did mention that he might be available to take you to see around Fontaine. So he must have meant the main station hub located in the main city.
Even if he wasn’t there, you’d have that station checked off the list of possibilities.
You hurried up the stairs, the small journey reminding you of the Nation of Freedom surprisingly. Although both were vastly different, they did share a similar style of building upward rather than outward.
Reaching the top, you made your way to the station. You kept your eyes open as you scoped out your surroundings hoping to find a tall tophat.
It shouldn’t be hard right? Someone as extravagant as him would surely stand out.
You stood corrected. It looks like many people here in Fontaine take up the fashion trend that was tall extravagant head wear. You had gone over almost every suspect bench near flora, most of them were occupied by either locals, adventurers or both.
He didn’t seem to be near the reception or the inner waiting area.
“ It's almost noon” you turn to look out a window, the sun is high in the sky now.
“ If I were a famous magician with an outgoing personality, where would I be?” You muttered as you had your eyes peeled, wondering in the same space.
Your eyes followed the cheers of children. Near a bench a group of kids surrounded someone.
“ Wow!”
“Where did it go?”
“Could you do it again mister?”
“ Alright! Since you asked nicely. Watch carefully now!~” You heard a jovial smooth voice.
Looking above the kid group you spot him, seated comfortably playing with his card deck.
‘ Of course! You’d be where a willing audience was present!’
You waltzed over subtly. He was entertaining a group of little kids with some card tricks, you’d let him finish his mini performance before you made yourself known.
“ Is this your card little Mademoiselle?” Lyney knelt down and held up a four of hearts card. The little girl with blonde hair jumped up excitedly.
“ Yeah! That’s my card!”
Lyney laughed, a warm expression graced his features. His eyes met yours for a split second. Not knowing what to do, you sent a little wave. Well at least he knows you're here.
His gaze flitted back to the group of kids. He got back up with the card in hand. “ Before I go, I’ll leave you all with a grand finale!”
The children gasped in unison and quieted down instantly.
He brought the card close to his face. He flicked it two times before crumpling it into his hand.
He shook his hand and reeled it as if he was going to throw a shot ball. He brought his hand up in a presenting way and when his palm opened there was a pop sound. It rained rainbow confetti and small cut out paper stars.
The children ooo’d and awe’d, and two were reaching their little arms up to catch the popper’s confetti.
“ Ta-da! This has been a special performance, brought to you by Magician Extraordinaire Lyney!” The magician lifted his cape from behind him and took a bow. The children clapped and cheered.
Two adults came walking up to the mini crowd.
“ Thank you for entertaining them, Mister Lyney. Getting our little Anais to sit still is a magic trick on its own.” An older woman laughed, as she picked up a small girl who wore a Boater styled hat.
“ Alright Hugo, let's go. Our boat will leave in a few minutes. Say thank you to Monsieur Lyney.” A man with a distinguished mustache taped a young boy in overalls. The little boy with his hands behind his back, thanked the magician before he went off with his father.
Lyney waved the kids off as he walked off towards you.
“ Hey there you. I hope managed to get a full night's rest.” He said, there was this sort of bounce in his voice. You may have only known him for a little while now, but you couldn’t help but pick up some recurring little quirks about him.
He wasn’t much different casually like he was on stage. This guy really does live and breathe in the spotlight huh?
“ Sort of. I had a bit of trouble sleeping.”
‘No way you were going to tell him you were thinking about him. That would make the rest of the day awkward.’
“ I did end up getting some shut eye though, eventually.” You mustered up a reassuring smile.
“ Trouble sleeping?” Lyney tilted his head as his index finger came up to chin. His eyes slightly narrowed as a mischief inducing grin made its way onto his face. “ You weren’t laying awake thinking about me were you?~”
You couldn’t help but widen your eyes and sputter out. Is telepathy in his book of magic tricks too?!
“What? No, of course not!” You forced a cough to cover your small blunder. “It’s just, I need to get accustomed to the climate, that's all. It's like that the first few days in a new location.”
Lyney laughed, his smirk melting into a more genuine expression.
“I’m kidding! That might have been a bit much, sorry about that! Hehe.” He said apologetically.
You crossed your arms as you held a small jaded stare at the cheeky magician. You were doubting if he really meant that. You blew out a held breath.
Reaching into your pocket you fetched the prop card
“ I found this in my sleeve when I left the Opera House. I believe this belongs to you.” You extended his card to him. His eyes suddenly lit up and he swiped the card away from you.
“So this is where it went! Honestly, sometimes my card deck has a mind of its own.” He mused as he twirled the card in his hand.
His eyes traveled back to you. “Well since it got you here today, why not take a walk around town! I did say if we had free time we were going to show you around. Call it an encore if you will.”
You looked around you, noticing something amiss after he said that.
“ Is Miss Lynette not going to join today?”
Lyney shrugged as he slid the card back into his deck. “ Lynette had something urgent to take care of, So she can't join us today unfortunately. So it will probably just be little old me and you today.”
He was idly playing around with the deck before he made it disappear. “ Oh, you don’t need to be so formal! Just Lyney is fine.”
You hummed.
“Alright. So any places to recommend visiting?”
At this the magician sported a confident smile and walked ahead of you. “ I have a full day planned out, a surprise around every corner. I want your stay in Fontaine to be an unforgettable glimmering memory.”
He turned on his heel to face you and extended a hand to you.
“ Now if you’d allow me to be your escort, mon cher?”
You could do nothing but stare. You couldn’t come up with any words to say except stepping forward and taking his hand.
With a content smile, Lyney gently pulled you along. His gloved hand felt smooth where his fingers grazed your palm yet there was a distinctive tougher texture where the white detailing was sewn on. The people wandering the streets around you felt like the fizzling suds of a wave.
You felt your face becoming a bit warmer.
He really does have a flair for the theatrical doesn’t he?
Lyney had taken you everywhere, one exciting place following the next. But before anything, he invented you for a meal. It was noon and the complimentary breakfast from early morning wasn’t going to keep you going for the entire day. So you both stopped by a humble cafe. The food was absolutely delicious! The smell of toasty bread invaded your senses and the savory taste of garlic on your tongue made you smile with each bite .
You were perfectly content with the garlic bread but you curiously asked Lyney for any recommended dish for the main course.
His answer was; “ If you want my word, then I’d say try this dish right here!” He pointed to a warm soup bowl as he leaned himself over to you.
After lunch, Lyney brought you to see many sights and places. From the tall waterfalls that made up the borders of Fontaine, you could stare at it for hours. He had to subtly pull you away from the viewing point as you kept your eyes glued to the running water.
You took the Aquabus every so often to get around. You were looking out into the distance. The water seemed to stretch on for infinity, islands broke through the surface making the land seem like one big jigsaw puzzle.
While the ride dragged out, Lyney made quick conversation to pass the time.
“So, what brought you to Fontaine, hm? If my memory serves me right, you mentioned that you don’t get out much.” Lyney sat next to you with his legs crossed.
“ Yeah. I see travelers but I'm never the one traveling. My job is not something exciting like an adventurer or extravagant like an artist.”
You shift in your seat. You folded your arms onto your lap.
“ I’m just a shopkeep. So, you can already say that I live a perfectly mundane life” You chuckled a bit dryly.
Lyney was uncharacteristically quiet. He was paying his undivided attention to your words. You continued.
“With every passing day, I gradually realized that my life had possibly reached a stalemate. Every day felt like a repeat of yesterday. It was the same route, same building, same aisles, and same feelings.” You said. You couldn’t exactly remember when you began to feel like this. It was a thought that had crossed your mind one day. And ever since, it had stayed in the crevices like gunk you couldn’t wipe off.
“ So, I decided that I’m just going to throw myself out there into the world!” You spoke. You couldn’t really say exactly what your ideas were, but you described what you felt.
Comfort. Trapped. Empty. Jealous. Fear. Doubt. Excitement.
“ It may be reckless of me, but If I was never going to do it, I knew I would end up feeling regret for not having done anything about it. And even so, my boss was kind enough to grant me time off.”
You snickered. “ I’m probably just assuming, but I feel like they might have let me have this because they probably noticed something. Not to brag, but I was their best employee. Swooping in to save the day when my colleagues were out.”
You stretched your arms a bit, not having realized how still your body was the entire time. Once you were done it felt nice; it was as if your entire being took a fresh breath of relief.
“ So now I’m here. In Fontaine on an Aquabus with you.” You look up to see Lyney again. His eyes were soft and he had this understanding expression on his face.
Really, any expression he wore felt as if it were through a pair of rosy lenses. Perhaps it was the natural charm artists like him had. Maybe.
Besides,he could get away with just about anything because of his attractive face.
You shook your head away to look out into the Fontaine waters around and below.
“ Well, good on you [Name]! I hope your ventures have been nothing but amazing and brought you happiness! ” He finally spoke. He inhaled deeply before he sighed out. His gaze faced the bow of the aquabus.
“ Do you agree that birds create wonderful music for the ear to hear? Not to mention the splendor of colorful feathers and their ability to fly.”
“Due to their natural charm, they are sometimes kept as ‘decorations’, provided food and shelter so long as they continue to amuse the people.” He said, his tone shifted ever so slightly. It was barely noticeable, but there was a very micro edge to his word.
He crossed his arms, the brim of his hat covered the sun creating a little inkling of shadow cast over half his face blocking out the sunlight that might’ve stung his eyes.
“ But being kept in captivity for too long, it will yearn for the open skies. It’s only a matter of time before the initial luxury turns into a finite cage.” Lyney hummed. His words brought you an unexplainable comfort yet somehow it felt very out of character for him. You subtly shift your gaze to his face. His expression didn’t seem to be exaggerated. His features were calm like a still lake, unmoving. His eyes, although trained forward, seemed to be not fully there. A misty reflection had settled over his lilac irises.
The intermission lasted for a few beats of seconds. His mouth effortlessly shifts up into a cat-like grin. He turns his head back to you and straightens his posture, his signature tophat tips back slightly. His eyes conveyed excitement as the lilac once again seemed as vivid during his performance.
He was no longer a still freshwater lake, but instead a lively and winding river.
“Which is why you’ll get the best tour of Fontaine by yours truly! Mark my words when I said I’d leave you dazzled today, for I Lyney will see to it that you have nothing but laughs and smiles upon your lovely face, mon cher.~” He declared proudly.
You felt dazed. A warm bubbly feeling began to infest your chest. It was very much like when he placed a kiss to the back of your hand.
You smiled happily at his declaration. “Thank you for listening to me. And also..”
You couldn’t help the hot sensation over the apples of your cheeks or your muted heart rate from your ears. Yet you persisted, not breaking away your gaze from him.
“Thank you for being with me today.”
Lyney’s confident facade had faltered ever so slightly for that moment. But he recuperated and mirrored your expression.
“It’s no problem at all, [Name].”
This was nice. He was nice. Despite knowing him for a little while, it felt as if you’d known him for much longer.
However, you barely knew anything about him other than he had a twin sister who was coincidentally his assistant and that he was a popular performer in Fontaine.
It irked you a bit, but you wouldn’t voice this opinion out loud. It is as people said, once you learn the inner mechanism to a magic trick, the magic itself is lost and you're left to face the raw and sometimes cruel trick.
You wouldn’t question why he went quiet. You wouldn’t question if he himself felt similar. You wouldn’t question why his demeanor sometimes felt too whimsical to be true. You didn’t want to ruin the mood. And you didn’t want to linger on the thought any longer.
You both went to many shops, Lyney had insisted you try out anything that caught your fancy. And if you liked it, to get it! Of course you were on a travel budget, but you did end up purchasing two items.
Your favorite stop however was the Hat Boutique. Lyney had a rather interesting insight on what headwear would ‘shape a face better’.
“Hm, you could probably store triple the amount of props in this one.” He studied a scarlet red top hat that looked suspiciously similar to the one he owns. He then looked over to another hat sitting on a display. “But that one brings out my petite and charming face more.”
He turned to face you. “ Help me out here [Name], should I go with this one or that one?”
You looked between the two options, narrowing your eyes and looked closely at the detailings. You looked at Lyney’s face and imagined how he’d look with either on.
“If you want my opinion, why not go with this one.” You walked over to a particular Hat you saw as you were pursuing. It was a Fedora like hat in a rich dark violet color; it looked more like an inky black purple. It had a gray sash wrapped around it that shined slightly silver when the sun hit.
“ It looks nice, and the material feels smooth to the touch. The color brings out your eyes too.” You said as you held up the hat for him to look.
“Oh my, aren't you the charmer?” He smirked playfully.
You avert your eyes to the aisles of material and color, “ It’s just an astute observation is all.”
He took the hat off your hands and studied it. “ Color me impressed! You have quite the eye for fashion mon cherie.” He sent you a proud smile and his eyes glowed with pride.
You shook your head. “ I work full time at a small shop remember, so picking up on the interest of buyers is a skill I’ve gained. I wouldn’t say I’m a fashion expert.” You felt the corner of your lips twitch up into a little smile.
“Are you going to tell me what you mean by that?”
“What do I mean by what?” He repeated your question blinking owlishly
You pouted. You got the feeling he was doing it on purpose.
“The nickname? You refer to me by that sometimes. What does it mean?”
Lyney thought for two seconds before his mouth formed an o shape in realization. He gave you an innocent close eyed smile. “ That’s a secret~! But, I have faith you’ll figure out what it means on your own.”
You gasped and brought a hand to your heart. “ How do I know you're not calling me a mean name? What a cruel scheme to pull one over me like that!” You whisper yelled in an over the top voice of hurt.
His shoulders tensed. Lyney suddenly became the slightest bit flustered. He shook his head, “I-I would never! Honest! I can assure you it doesn’t mean anything like that.”
You let out a quiet snicker. You found it adorable really. He suddenly became embarrassed despite the brimming confidence he usually carries himself in.
After purchasing the hat, he decided to keep his signature cat still on but suggested making a stop by his house to leave the newly purchased hat.
“ It won’t be long I promise! It’s just that, I wouldn’t want it to get weathered by bringing it around with us today. You did end up choosing it and I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to it.” He reasoned.
It was a small but cute home. It was built in a typical style that the main city carried; geometric edges, a very advanced looking outdoor light, and a beautiful door with a stained window.
“Wait here okay! I promise I’ll be in and out before you can tell I left.” He quickly spoke as he jogged over to the front door. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as he sped off.
So you stood outside. You looked around, and spotted a potted plant.
CLANK TICK CLANK
The sharp sounds of metal and objects clashing made you sharply look at the direction it came from. You suddenly felt a bit confused.
The door swung open and you were expecting to see the charming magician. Instead it was a boy running out the door. He spotted you and suddenly skidded to a sudden stop.
“...”
He had a giant metal helmet next to him. He had ash blonde hair that almost covered the left side of his face. His apparel reminded you of a sailor.
He just stared at you and stepped back a bit. His form seemed slightly shrunken and he held his helmet thing closer to him. Not wanting wrong assumptions to be made you sent the boy the most casual smile you could.
“ Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just waiting on a friend, said he had to drop off something. He should be back any minute.”
The boy didn’t say anything, and just nodded. And he stood there. Unmoving.
Some glances at you and back to the floor.
He taps around his helmet.
Well this was awkward. Should you make small talk?
“Er, cool helmet. What is it for, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The boy nervously glanced at you from the corner of his eye. His eyes were a very vibrant blue color. He didn’t answer for a while. You purse your lips feeling bad. Maybe the silence was better.
“ving…” You barely heard it. You look over back to the boy.
“Diving..a diving helmet.” He spoke quietly. He didn’t make eye contact as his eyes were glued to the floor.
“Diving? As in underwater?” You spoke with some bubbling curiosity. Before the boy could react, the door opened again.
“ I am here! Haha, sorry. That may have taken a bit longer than I thought. I hope you didn’t get too bored while I was away.” Lyney announced himself. He no longer had the hat box with him and he scratched the nape of his neck.
He noticed the other blonde boy.
“Hm? Ah, Freminet! Where are you off to today?”
Oh, he knows him? You thought, glancing between the two.
“I was on my way to the beach.” The young man known as Freminet spoke. His voice sounded soft yet slightly raspy, perhaps he wasn’t used to talking much you figured.
Lyney approached you and eagerly motioned for you to join in the conversation.
“ [Name], allow me to introduce you to my little brother, Freminet. Freminet, this is my new friend [Name]. They were the ones to share the spotlight with me and Lynette during last evening’s show.” Lyney proudly chirped.
Freminet looked a lot less tense. “Oh, yeah. I remember. You rambled on about that show, saying how well they-”
Lyney coughed loudly. You look over at the magician with a raised eyebrow.
There on his pale face was the smallest smidgen of a rosy color. Freminet immediately hushed. But he had a small nervous smile on his face.
“ I’m sorry If I seemed quiet just now.” Fremeniet now said addressing you. “ I recognized you from your appearance, but I didn’t know what to talk about. Or If you would find me odd for knowing about you.”
You shook your head, understanding the full picture now made you feel a bit more reassured. “ Don’t worry about it, really. But, it’s nice to meet you, Freminet.”
You turned to face Lyney who looked a lot more relaxed. “ So you have two siblings? What a nice family you three are! There probably isn’t a shortage of banter or boredom then.”
Lyney chuckled. “ Well, I’m usually the one who does most of the talking. I’m the eldest so it's my duty.”
“Sometimes you take it a bit too far and become a blabber mouth.” A familiar voice suddenly joined the conversation. Looking about you were met with another familiar face.
“Hey Lynette.” You sent the twin a little friendly wave. She turned to you. Smiling a little and returning it, albeit more lazy.
“Really? You see me as a blabber mouth? But Lynette, I mustn't let the audience’s cheers and support fall on deaf ears. Especially that our friend [Name] here has been on a grand tour with me as their guide.” Lyney ground proudly as he placed both his hands on his hips.
“Whatever you say. But, you’ve been taking them on a tour? How come you didn’t invite me to tag along?” Lynette deadpanned.
Huh? You tilted your head in confusion and furrowed your brow. Didn’t Lyney mention earlier that his sister was busy. Lyney must have felt the obvious sudden awkward tension placed upon him as his shoulder tensed and he chuckled nervously.
“A-ah, b-but dear sister, you see since you were busy in the early time of today I didn’t wish to trouble you, so I took it upon myself to show them around. Hehe, please don’t be mad at me.” Lyney stuttered out all while looking at Lynette as he brought his hat closer to his chest.
Lynette sighed and shook her head before she turned to you with a laid back expression.
“ I hope he hasn’t caused you too much trouble, [Name]. He can go a little too far sometimes but that’s just Lyney being Lyney.”
“Hey! I’m right here you know.” Lyney whined sadly. Lynette didn’t bother to look at him and Freminet had turned his head to the side. His shoulder’s bounced and looked like he was suppressing a giggle.
“ It’s really okay. More than okay really. Lyney has been nothing but kind and patient with me. He is a good listener and always manages to make me smile and laugh!” You said happily.
Lynette’s deep violet eyes got slightly bigger with confusion and curiosity. Lyney stood beside you and took a quick glance at your direction. It was quiet for a moment. You suddenly became a bit nervous, was there something wrong you said?
Lyney laughed heartily as he threw an arm over your shoulders. “You see! Take it from them, that I never let my audience down!” You quickly glanced in his direction, not minding the close contact. You could see some red culminating around the tips of his ear and beneath his eyes.
“Well that's good to know.” Lynette crossed her arms.
“ We must get going, the daylight is short so we mustn't waste it idlying.” Lyney said. Before you two left Lyney sent his siblings goodbye. “Take care Lynette, remember to be on alert alright? And Freminet, remember to get back home before curfew! I was about to dive into the waters last time you had forgotten about time.”
“ Okay.”
“Of course.”
Lynette and Freminet replied in unison.
“ Looks like we’re on the move again. I hope to be able to spend time with you Lynette.” You said. You wanted to get to know this family better. Lynette was blunt and to the point but you could tell she cared about the people closest to her.
Lynette nodded and her lips curled up into a small but sincere smile. You turned to Freminet.
“ It was nice to meet you, Freminet. If we ever meet again, would you mind explaining diving to me? It sounds interesting.”
Freminet tensed slightly but managed to nod in agreement.
“ Bye Bye! Take care!”
After you two had left, Lynette turned to Fremeinet with a pensive look.
“ Freminet, do you think our older brother is perhaps getting attached to them?”
“ I don’t know. But, he really seems to like their company. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him being this flustered in the presence of someone else.”
Lynette hummed. “ I hope he knows what he’s attempting to get himself into. Out of all of us, he knows what kind of situation we’re in.”
Freminet was quiet as he fidgeted with the nails and guards on his helmet.
“ Do you think that [Name] would like Per?”
Lynette glanced at Freminet with an unreadable expression. She stood still and thought of last evening's performance.
“Did... Did you go into idle mode?”
“Yes.”
“Huh?”
“ I think [Name] would find Per cute.”
The rest of the day was spontaneous. From a walk by the sea shore, trying out pastries and free samples, Lyney explaining Fontaine history and technology.
It was now close to night time and you were both currently walking through the garden close to the Opera House. The road towards the Opera House was beautiful, ever since you first came here a day prior. You had almost ran late to the Magic show seeing as to how pretty it was. The carved marble statues, the beds of wildflowers beyond the decorative iron railing, and not to mention the fountains. Water was almost everywhere you’d look, it was a given as this was the nation of Hydro.
“Well, today was certainly a fun day.” You spoke softly. You looked up into the sky. It was the final rays of daylight and the sky was a beautiful swatch of evening gradience. All of the orange, blues and reds bled right into each other.
The water beyond mirrored the sky. The land was akin to a watercolor tray, a smokey mixture of cool and warm colors.
“Thankyou, again for taking time out of your day to guide me through the nation’s cities. You didn’t need to know?” You walked alongside Lyney who was too admiring the sky.
“Nonsense. I took you on this little journey because I wanted to. It was one of my prop cards that called to you, yes?” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes but-”
“And you answered. You could have very well ignored it, even kept the card as a souvenir. But you didn’t. And that choice led you to today.” He spoke calmly.
You said nothing. Lyney was a stubborn man, no matter how many times you could protest against his kindness he would fire back with a reasonable explanation.
“ The card, how did you manage to put it into my sleeve?”
Lyney grinned like a bobcat. “ Uh uh my dear, a magician never reveals his trade secrets.” He mused teasingly.
“ Of course.” You sighed, giving up.
“Have you always had a talent in magic? In performing?”
Lyney finally turned his head to glance at you. Skipping ahead of you, he manages to turn his whole body towards you.
“ If you must know, It is a rags to riches tale!” He exclaimed as he bellowed out his arms dramatically in front of him.
“ As a young lad, me and Lynette were street performers. Everyday little crowds of people would congregate around us on the side of the street. Card tricks, Flower tricks, and even the feathered friends would aid in our little shows.” He exclaimed as he walked backwards.
“We would give it our all and Mora would rain down upon us.” He spoke with a triumphant smile on his face. He slowed down his pace and you managed to catch up. He was now walking next to you like before.
“ You could guess the rest. We eventually became so well renowned, we were able to afford high end venues and quality equipment for our shows. And soon we went from paupers to famed actors.”
You had listened carefully. Despite his colorful disposition, the underlying tone of his small backstory felt off.
“ I’m sorry you had to go through such tribulation. It must have been tough on the two of you early on.” You frowned. Although he framed the tale as a dramatic novel, the implication that he and lynette had been living in the streets tugged at your heart.
He did say when he was a lad, so this probably must have happened while they were both children. Where were their parents? The rest of their family? You decided to stave off these questions as they could be delicate.
Lyney had gone quiet for a moment. He smiled warmly at you. “ It’s alright. There is no need to feel sad for us. That is long in the past now. And besides…” He grinned widely. “ I think a smile would suit your lovely face more!”
He took off his hat and dug around it and pulled out a curious plant. It was a glowing blue color and its shape resembled a pearl. It shined a mixture of a translucent lilac and ocean blue.
He outstretched it out to you. You went ahead and tapped the leaves that looked like sea shells. The flower suddenly released some bubbles. The translucent orbs floated around you. You couldn’t help but pop a few, some giggles escaping you as you whirled around.
Lyney chuckled. “ I did promise you that I would keep that smile on your lips followed by the melody of your laughter.”
“ I-” You brought a hand up to your face. Your heart suddenly began to beat as if you had just ran a distance.
Why did his words have to feel so..so..like this? Why did it feel as if what he said was true? Would that explain why your heart feels like it would sprout wings and fly away any moment?
You were positive your face was burning up. You coughed into your hand.
“You did, didn't you? Thank you for the reminder.” You had managed to sputter out. You heard the soft chuckling of the magician. The flower was no wear to be seen, he must’ve vanished it away when you weren’t paying attention.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page, [Name].” He had a lopsided grin. Lyney was a cheeky man, a person with a silver tongue. He was a conman. And yet…
He managed to make you feel like you had a tornado of butterflies in your stomach all the time.
You were left speechless, as you both continued to walk down a few more minutes. You both made it to the Opera. In front of the opera was a bigger fountain, and a few pairs of people were collected around it.
You went up to the fountain, interested to see it up close. In the water collected at the bottom, you could make out a few glittering coins of Mora beneath the water. You heard a few steps up behind you and guess Lyney must’ve followed you.
“ People wish at this fountain, right? What for?” You looked around at the elegant structure. The reflected moonlight in the water gleamed against the little gold accents around its edges.
“ Fontainians come to this fountain to wish about anything, really. Better fortune, health, and happiness. But mostly, people come to this specific fountain for love or hopes for a healthy baby.” Lyney answered, his hands behind his back.
‘Hmm, the pairs of people make sense now.’ You thought as you glanced around the area. Satisfied you walk around the front of the Opera house. The fountains shooting water high into the air makes you wanna take a closer look. Leaning into the thin railing your eyes stayed glued to the water.
You could feel a ghost coolness of the falling mist from the tall fountain.
Although it was a fun outing today, you had ran around almost everywhere in the nation. Lyney in toe with you, making you ignore the aches you felt for doing so much in such a short time. Now in this still moment, all your tiredness was catching up to you.
Lyney must have noticed, as his lilac eyes flitted between your face and the fountain ahead.
“ Hey, want to see something cool?”
You turned your head over to the cheeky magician with a brow raised.
With your attention now on him, he took off his hat. You leaned more on your arm against the railing with a warm smile. Half expecting him to pull out something out of his hat again, he did something else. He shook it in front of him, emptying it out of nothing. Nothing left the hat.
Lyney hummed aloud. “Hmm, I was sure I had it stored in here.”
You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Maybe you dropped it somewhere?”
“No no. I was sure It was in here.” He pouted as he now looked in, under and above his tophat. It was rather cute.
He eventually gave up and placed it back on his head. “ You might be right, maybe it slipped out while we were on the aqua-”
Just as he was about to finish, something dangled in front of his face. It moved from side to side, as if it was dusting off his face. Upon a closer look, It looked like a cat tail.
The look on Lyney’s face was endearing, his lilac eyes had dilated in surprise and followed the tail.
“Ah, there it is!” The hat suddenly lifted up his head, floating just above.
To your surprise, you see a smaller tophat along two little black ears pop out. Two little black bean paws followed, grabbing along the inner rim of Lyney’s hat.
Pop
“!!!”
You finally saw its face. It was a black cat with mismatched eyes of a droplet and star. It had a permanent toothy grin on its face. It wiggled in the hat and turned itself to look down at you.
“?!!”
You could make out the red bow behind its back. You weren’t sure what to do so you waved at the cat. It moved its small pudgy body around the hat and twitched its tiny ears.
“!!!”
Lyney let out a giggle at the interaction. “ Aww, I think he likes you.” He managed to grab his floating hat by the rim and brought it down in front of him. The cat in the hat seemed bothered and was now looking up at you. Its tiny hat was slightly tipped back.
“Can I pet it?” You asked almost too excitedly.
“Since you asked, of course! He is a bit mischievous but a glutton for attention.” He mused, side eyeing down on the cat.
You gingerly brough your hand down onto the cat. Its surface was surprisingly smooth yet soft, and the cat wiggled towards your touch. It’s two little ears ducked back as it seemed to love the attention it was given. It’s face never changed, however.
“ Does it have a name?” You asked as you kept petting it. Lyney nodded and smiled.
“ It’s a Grin-Malkin cat! I’m sure you're quite familiar with it, as it’s not only a prop for Lynette and I’s show, but our cute mascot.” He said.
“Prop?” You asked slightly confused. So it wasn’t alive? Then how did it move so life-like?
“ The Grin-Malkin cat is a puppet, but its movements are based off of a real cat.” He said.
You smiled, but kept petting the cute kitty. Even if it was just a puppet, the cat seemed to have a familiar personality. Its little paws stuck out, and one came up to ‘attack’ your finger. You quietly giggled at its playfulness.
“ So, cats are a part of your show’s soul huh?” You asked.
“ If it wasn’t that obvious, yes.” He said with a charming smile.
“ ‘Based on a real cat’, so who was the lucky cat this little bean was based on?” You asked curiously.
“ When Lynette and I were street performers, we managed to run into a lot of stray cats. Lynette was shy, so most of them got along with her.” He said as he looked down to Grin-Malkin.
“But, there was one troublesome cat. He kept on running off with my hat. Apparently, it made for a better cat bed than anything. He would be curled up inside when I found it.”
“ Eventually, I thought of replacing my old friend with a new hat. A hat that wouldn’t disappear when I didn’t tell it so. But, me and the cat came to a mutual agreement. I would bring him along to the show as a replica puppet!” He said with a proud smile. It slightly faltered however as he continued.
“During one particular performance, there was a little mishap that happened. I had forgotten a card in my deck and the trick required that one card that I misplaced.”
You winced at the second hand embarrassment. “Talk about bad luck. What did you do?” You asked. The kitty that you were petting now turned around to look up at Lyney. It looked interesting in his story. So now, it was you and the cat’s eyes on Lyney.
“Well, as I was coming up with an improvised outcome, out came this little guy.” He motioned down to the cat.
“!!!” It bounced slightly in the hat as the attention now was on it.
“ He had the card that I had misplaced and was able to save the show. And ultimately, make it better. The crowd and even I wasn’t expecting such an outcome.” He shook his head.
“Aww, so he became the star of the show.” You laughed.
“!!!” The cat whirled around to face you again and puffed out its chest in pride.
Lyney laughed alongside you. “ That’s one way to put it.”
Once you calmed down you noticed that you didn’t feel as tired anymore.
“ It looks like today is coming to a close.” Lyney said as he looked around. There were now very few people outside, and the sky had turned darker than earlier. The magician tapped the tiny tophat on the cat.
“Before today the curtains come to a close, let me send you off with a grand finale.” He whispered.
The Grin-Malkin cat wiggled its tail and his paw came up to the brim of its own hat. The cat tipped its tophat to you before Lyney grabbed his own and placed it back atop it’s hat.
“With your permission, could you close your eyes for me.” He said as he leaned in close to you, his hands behind his back.
“Okay?” You smiled nervously.
You shut your eyes and saw darkness. You could still hear the rushing of water and a faint sound of chirping crickets.
“Okay, no peeking until I tell you too.” You heard the magician.
You waited for what would happen. You felt someone get closer to you. The ghostly presence of someone close to your face. You refrained from moving, yet your heart began to pick up its pace.
You felt something warm touch your cheek, and something soft tickle your ear. At the same time you felt stiffer material tap against you above your head.
It came as quickly as it went, as you felt a small breeze and you could no longer feel the close presence.
“Okay, open your eyes now.” You heard Lyney say.
You opened and saw the magician in front of you with a warm smile.
“Do you feel anything different? Perhaps something is missing!” He said in a cheery tone.
Your hand reached up to where you felt something earlier.
“Huh?”
There was something behind your ear. Carefully, your fingers outstretched and touched something soft. It was a delicate circlet of petals connected to a smooth stem. Looking up from the corner of your eye, you spotted a blur of prisma like colors.
A blurb of pink and pastel yellow.
“ A rose? How?” You quietly questioned.
“Mhm!” Lyney nodded enthusiastically. “ That is a rainbow rose. A beautiful flower that grows wild only within Fontaine.”
“Ah, thank you! It’s really pretty and soft.” You delicately felt a petal. Beneath the bloom, there were smaller outstretched petals that pressed against your temple.
“ Have you found it yet? The thing I stole from you.” Lyney asked, tilting his head to the side.
You glanced back at him confused. You didn’t feel anything missing from you, as you checked your packets and around your person.
Lyney’s eyes followed your attempts to look for the missing something, slightly amused.
“Given up yet?”
You really couldn’t find anything off.
“ Is this a trick question, because I don’t feel like anything was taken.” You asked.
Lyney raised a closed hand next to his face. He smirked mischievously.
“How strange, because I have something of yours in the palm of my hand.” He teased me. “I’ll give you one more chance, could you guess what it is?”
You nodded. You guessed it was either a prop card or maybe some mora.
“ I give up, what is it?”
Lyney opened his palm and there was…
Nothing.
“Ta-da! The thing I stole from you was your attention.” He exclaimed with glee. He walked over to me and extended his hand over to me.
“Here you go, you can have it back now!”
…
This little-
You may have had the tiniest urge to smack his shoulder. Shaking off that urge, you huffed and played along. Once you reached his hand to get your ‘attention’ back, his finger’s gently encased your hand.
He bowed down dramatically and kissed the back of your palm.
Very discreetly, he cracked one eye open and glanced up at you. You had frozen in place and with a flustered face you could only stare.
He had the gall to smirk and send you a wink.
There was an odd sense of Dejavu, the memory of when you were approached by him after the magic show that evening.
“And it seems that…I have stolen your heart as well ma chérie.” Lyney whispered.
He gently let your hand fall back to your side as he stood back up. He had an innocent smile on his face.
You just stared at him completely dazed.
It was quiet for a very. Long. Second.
Lyney’s pale face slowly became redder and redder although he did not move.
The awkwardness was beginning to thicken and soon Lyney couldn’t take it anymore.
“Ahem…Ahaha hah haa... D-Did you get it? Because I had you focused on me the entire time so I stole your attention right under your nose. And now I just did a chivalrous act to make you feel flustered! I didn’t go too far again did I?” He muttered as he brought a hand to his mouth and averted his eyes.
His rambling snapped you out of your dazed phase and you suddenly became very aware as to how hot your face was. Lyney being in some sort of distress in front of you made you sputter out.
“Nononono, It’s fine! I was surprised, very surprised actually…er that was a nice trick there, very smart. So don’t worry about it.” You went ahead and leaned forward from the railing to look back at the fountain. Lyney might have gotten the message because he did the same.
After a few minutes of cooling down, you turned your head to look at Lyney and see if he was alright. His lilac eyes spotted you out of the corner, and he ducked under the brim of his hat.
“I think it’s getting late, I’ll take the Aquabus back to the main city.” You said, there was a small tight feeling in your chest. You were sad as to how fast the day went, how fast you had to say goodbye.
“Let me walk you back to the station then. It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly to let you walk back on your own this late.” Lyney offered, his voice sincere.
And so you did. The walk back was slightly quieter. Again, he became uncharacteristically quiet.
Was it because of what happened earlier? Did he feel like he did something wrong?
“You know I had fun today, right?” You began.
“It was very kind of you to take me on a tour around the city. I got to learn about the nation, eat good food, spoil myself with samples and sweets, and saw many hats I didn’t even know existed.” you slightly laughed. You heard him laughing quietly too.
“ I met your siblings, met your prop cat and I got to meet you in last evening's show.”
You might’ve never gone out today if you hadn’t met Lyney.
You might’ve never got to know his family if you hadn’t met Lyney.
You might’ve never gotten to meet Lyney like this if you weren’t picked to participate in the final act.
The more you thought about it, the more you became grateful that for some miracle of coincidence you were picked from the audience.
“I’m really happy that I met you. You made my time here in Fontaine feel magical. I’ll keep this day close to my heart, if that’s okay with you.” You smiled happily, the giddy feeling making you feel all sorts of floaty.
Lyney said nothing, only humming in approval.
Once you had gotten to the station, there was already a bus sitting there. The tour guide, or Melusine as you later found out, was sitting and leaning against the bus. Once it heard the sound of footsteps it sat up quickly, it’s tall ears snapping up.
“Ah! Oh, all aboard the bus! No wait, that’s not it..uh- everyone boarding please be careful with your arms, feet and legs inside the boat!” It spoke, half asleep.
You turn to Lyney. “ Are you going to go back to the main city?”
He shook his head.
“ No, I think I’m going to go back to the Opera house. I hate to be the naggy brother, but I just want to make sure Lynette didn’t forget any of the props backstage.”
“ Oh alright. I guess this is goodbye then.”
You had the urge to hug him. You weren’t sure how busy the Magician might be tomorrow, but somewhere in the back of your mind you believed you wouldn’t see him again for a while. The thought once again made your chest feel tight.
“ I believe so.” Lyney said quietly.
Well, no point in delaying your leave.
“Wha- HEY!” You heard Lyney yelp, and quickly you turn back to see what happened. His hat was off its what and seemed to zoom over to you.
The Grin-Malkin cat drove the Top hat like some dune buggy as now right side up was swirled with pyro elemental energy.
The grinning cat raced in the sky towards you, there wasn’t enough time to get out of the way so you braced for impact. But it never came.
The hat had swerved around you, drifting mid air as the cat kept facing you.
Suddenly the thing nudged itself into your face, the Grin-Malkin cat rubbing its pudgy dark body against you. You could almost hear purrs.
“ Hello, nice to see you again.” You giggled as its ears tickled your chin. Wrapping an arm around it you used the other to scratch above its head.
“!!!”
Lyney got closer and smiled nervously. “ I think he likes you too much. It never usually takes off on it’s own.”
He bent slightly down to be on the hat’s level and he put both his hands on his hip.
“Hey now! Come on, back up here alright?” he tried to sound like a scolding parent.
“!!!” The cat shook its tail in his face.
“I’m serious. C’mon, back on Lyney’s head” He pointed to his hat-less head of hair.
“!!!” The cat dug itself deeper into your embrace.
Lyney frowned. “ I know you like [Name], but they really have to go. It could be dangerous for them to be out in the streets this late. The sooner you let them go, the sooner they’ll go back safely.” He reasoned with a reassuring tone of voice.
The cat retracted itself from your hold and glanced down at Lyney. Having made up its mind the cat’s paws extended to you.
You tapped them both. “ Lyney’s right. I have to go. I’ll miss you too.” You leaned down and pressed a small peck on the robotic cat’s forehead.
It wiggled and a paw came up to its hat and brought it down in an attempt to hide its face. Although its features couldn’t exactly express, it looked to be shy.
Lyney had noticed and brought a hand up to his mouth to cover his snickers.
The cat then ducked into the hat, disappearing from view. You looked inside the hat and it was empty.
Grabbing it from in front of you, you flipped it right side up.
“Here, let me help.” You raised it above Lyney’s head. Slowly you set it down and secure it in its place. All the while doing it, Lyney had his soft lilac eyes on your face.
Fixing the hat a bit, you dusted off any dirt that may have gotten on it. “There we go! Now you look as sharp as you usually do.” You grinned.
You didn’t notice but when you smiled, especially at such close proximity, Lyney couldn’t stop the flush of color rising in his face.
You kept staring at his hat and his face as well to see if anything was out of place.
Without realizing your hands hover just above his arms. You weren’t sure if this was right. Maybe ... .Everything was going a step too far. Just as you were gonna reel back, Lyney raised his hands to hover right beneath your arms.
Without saying much but a nod, you hugged.
His cape felt soft, and his arms held you with care and protectiveness. You smiled as your face dug into his shoulder. You felt the hard material of the brim bump your temple.
He smelled like flowers and ash. An odd combination yet somewhat comforting.
For what felt like a full day, you two finally separated. He had a warm and sincere smile on his face.
Most of his smiles are bright grins that could light up a room.
But somehow after a while the spark is lost, and the smiles feel all the same. But this one, the one you saw before your eyes. No, this was different.
The kind of smile that was not rehearsed nor under scrutiny of the captive audience’s eye.
This one felt raw, special, authentic.
It made him look beautiful.
Realizing you were staring, you stepped back.
“ I….really think I need to go, or the Melusine will go back to sleep.” You turned on your heel and headed towards the boarding area. Before you left you took a big breath in. the cold air of the night and mist sending a current of energy through you.
As you were about to step on the bus, you heard him walk behind you.
“When will you be leaving?”
“What?”
“When will you be leaving? You said you were here on holiday, so when will you go back?” He asked.
You stopped and thought. When will I go back?
Go back.
Do I want to go back?
Can I go back after having a taste of what the world is outside of what I once knew?
“I leave in two days. Two days, yes.” You managed to say out almost in a flat voice.
“Why do you want to know?” You asked, you hadn;t turn your back to face him.
I want to see you again.
“ No reason in particular. I just thought you would be around to watch me and my sister perform in three days at the courts theater.” He said, there was a cheapness to his voice.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to go. I'm sorry.”
“Yeah, Sounds like it.” Lyney dejectedly said.
You step onto the bus and Melusine shoots up on it’s tiny feet.
“ Leaving Marcotte Station!” They yelled. You sat down on one of the benches. You didn;t have the heart to look at Lyney as the bus started to move along the river.
You did however outstretched your hand behind your ear. The rose was still there.
“ Ah, a rainbow rose? Oh oh! Did you have someone propose to you?” the Mesuline asked.
“Wh-What?! What do you mean by ‘propose?!’ ” You shrieked. The Melusine set comfy on top it’s little pedestal.
“Oopsie, I’m sorry you probably don’t know the rumored implications of that rose do you?” They asked, tilting their head as their ears flopped to the side.
You shook your head.
“Well, since you're my only passenger for tonight, I suppose it’s okay for me to add on to the guidelines. And I’m tired right now.” It yawned.
“ When someone gifts you a Rainbow Rose, much like the one on you, it usually symbolizes passion and romantic encounters. It’s very common for couples here to gift each other a single rainbow rose or a bouquet of a dozen roses as a way to express their devotion to one another.” The Melusine mused.
“Oh.”
“ But it’s also used to express platonic love for a dear friend or family. Flower gifting is a language that revolves around love no matter which kind.” It said happily.
It hummed a little tune, and the boat sailed along.
“ But for it to be placed behind the ear, someone may be interested in you. Romantically I mean, haha.”
Oh dear…you might realize what the nickname he gave you means now.
“Ah- AHCHOO!” You covered your face as you sneezed.
“ Bless you!” the Melusine said.
You sniffled. Maybe it was the cold.
Lyney had stood there watching the Aquabus get farther and farther away. He had his hat to his chest.
He quickly placed his hat back on his head and walked back to the garden path.
There was no one around. He was alone.
Had his siblings made it back home yet? Probably.
The steps of his boots bore a fast and rhythmic pattern as he stepped.
His lips were in a flat line. His mind was preoccupied on many things.
His sister, his brother, the rest of his siblings, “Father” and you.
You. He shook his head.
He had a blast today. Although he had known Fontaine all his life, he practically lived on the stone walkways for a good part of his life, he never saw it like he did today. It felt new to him, a wondrous view!
Like that of an innocent curious child. Something that he never thought he would experience ever in his life.
He snapped away the thought.
He made it past the fountain in front of the Opera House. Getting past the gates and the lonely lobby he made it into the audience area.
He had met you here.
From when he was looking for a willing participant, he spotted you amongst the sea of eager people.
He spotted you. You weren’t a local, perhaps a tourist. You intrigued him.
Foreigner’s often brought in the best source of intel. A web of secrets and truths hidden beneath the veil of illusions. The normal people and Magicians were similar in that aspect, despite the other living in ignorance.
He never would have expected you to complete the trick well. Oftentimes, stage fright took a hold of the non troupe assistance, some on the spot improv would be on set in case the trick went off the rails.
That is why Lyney wouldn’t often pick from the audience. It was a rare occasion.
He would seek you out. Get you into a sense of comfortability, his silver tongue had a way of making people profess their hearts out to him.
The world was a stage to him, and thus he must always perform his best. At least, that is what “Father” told him.
You didn’t have much useful information. He was hoping for something more scandalous or perhaps a secret you were ashamed of. Instead, you were just some person seeking out the world that you never had stepped foot in despite being born into it.
And yet.
Lyney sat down on one of the cushy seats of the audience area. He crossed on foot atop the other.
Why had he stayed with you today?
Perhaps he was afraid of seeing you upset if he left suddenly to shop for props he needed.
Maybe, he didn’t want to go back on his promise he made to you backstage.
Maybe, he didn’t want to see your angry face if you found out the initial reason he asked you out.
Lyney looked around, his eyes wandered to the stage. No one was performing. It was empty. The spotlight wasn’t shining down. It was devoid and completely useless to its intended purpose at the moment.
Lyney had purposefully left out key information when you had asked about his background in magic.
You didn’t need to know of the desperate times where he pushed through with a smile while the tummies of he and his sister gurgled for food.
You didn’t need to know the cruelty of Nobility and their disgusting greed and wicked selfishness.
You didn’t need to know about the House and the Fatui.
And you didn’t need to know about “Father”.
Lyney exhaled.
All of that would probably make you look down on him with disgust and fear. He much preferred to see a beautiful smile on you.
He didn’t need to see you again. You were useless to “Father”, to the grand scheme of he and his sibling’s mission. You would be a distraction, and distractions lead to silly avoidable mistakes.
Yes, that’s what “Father” would say to him.
And yet.
Lyney scrunched his face. He didn’t like feeling like this. He thought he was over this. After all, he had a home and a supportive family now. He shouldn't feel like this, he had his sister, little brother and the other younger ones to look after.
And yet he wanted to see you again.
You made him feel like he had freedom. It wasn’t like the one he was granted when he and Lynette were free from being street rats. And strangely enough, it wasn’t like the freedom “Father” granted him when she took him away from the cruel mansion.
He felt bliss with you. He felt like how the audience looked in the countless times he performed on stage.
Was that how it felt like to live normally? To live in bliss and ignore the world’s harsh reality, even for a few moments.
He used to stutter a lot as a young boy. Whenever his juvenile performances went wrong or a slip of the tongue in pronouncing large words.
Yet he seemed to awfully flustered around you a lot of the time.
He even gave you a Rainbow Rose of all things.
It’s what felt the most appropriate he thought.
“ Oh no..”
The realization hit him like a Mitachurl’s Axe.
“ Father is definitely going to kill me if she ever finds out about this. Lynette might as well.” He cried.
“ACHOO!”
“Ugh, I should’ve gotten out of the port sooner. I might come down with a cold.” He sniffled.
‘Maybe someone’s thinking of me.’ He thought.
Before you went into your room, you had asked the reception for a vase you could borrow. They immediately noticed the flower on you and gave you a sneaky glance. Ignoring them, you went and filled the vase with water.
Before going to bed you placed the rose in the vase, on your nightstand so when the morning came it would get sun.
The last thing you saw when you fell into slumber was the rose. The memory of that charming magician is still vivid in your mind.
Perhaps, you could delay your trip back home.
After all,
He did steal your heart and had yet to give it back.
A/N: CWNCWNCONCON I WAS KICKING MY FEET AND CRYING WHEN I WORTE SOME PARTS CBKEBCIB The Fonatine siblings have a choke hold on me fr. Fontaine water giving that same energy that 3 am cold crispy tap water- I'm now tempted to make a Lynette x F!Reader fluff were they have a nice little tea party and make paper flower arrangements like cottage core girlfriends
Tags: @b0rninh3ll @yukiaei @xiaossocksniffer @nayumeas @scarletrosesposts @sol3chu @rionah @jar-03
#let me kiss the magic man#magic cat boy lemme hug#genshin#genshin impact#genshin lyney x reader#lyney x reader#lyney#genshin impact lyney#genshin x reader#genshin imagines#genshin fontaine#fontaine#genshin fluff#fluffy#angst#angst with a hopeful ending#genshin angst#romantic#genshin fanfic#genshin fatui#genshin lynette#genshin impact freminet#lyney and lynette#fanfic
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Hii, do you have some zolu/luzo ff rec??
Hii!!, uhh i have over 100 zolu/luzo fics downloaded YES OF COURSE, i'll try and list down some (many) fics with one chapter only cuz i'm not sure if i can stop recommending if i include multi chaptered fics... (But if you want some rec for the multi chaptered fics just let me know!! Ohh and maybe some ongoing fics?)
This is gonna be a very long post😭🙏
Bleed like an Idiot by Augment [13k words]
Rating: Mature (for mild gore/torture)
Something something about their fear of disappointing/failing each other, the perfect amount of angst, so good
Not that Luffy wouldn’t die for each and every one of his crew, and he knows, though he will make sure it never ever happens, that they would die for him. But to supersede Zoro’s dream like this, that makes Luffy feel so hideously guilty it locks up his lungs, and his jaw, and he can’t speak, touch Zoro, anything.
The salt & the sea by novks (thychesters) [25k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Modern setting, reincarnation au. Zoro being the last person to regain his memories (of his past life) and luffy being lowkey annoyed by it lol
It’s like with Nami, hitting him full force, but it’s so much more than that as the reality of it all comes crashing down around him. Zoro, his (first mate, first friend in this world of pirates, first crew member and first one he swore an oath with), his—he isn’t even sure what to call him. There’s too much but too little to describe him.
Zoro. Zoro, who—no, no, no offense to Nami—should have been first. Zoro, who’s a constant, and he’s practically vibrating with the need to reach and touch him, make sure he’s really real. His tongue darts out to wet his lip as he steps forward, crowding into his personal space and finally grinning because I found you!
Luffy wants to call him an idiot, because it figures he would get lost finding his way home.
But Zoro just blinks at him, flushes, one eye still framed by a familiar scar and says, “Oh, sorry,” and makes it so much worse when he says, “Do I know you?
Of First Mates and Duty by Whatev3rs [14k]
Rating: General Audiences
Zoro's bad at feelings, but he is trying ok!!
“First mates… we devote our lives to our captains. Our entire beings. We live for them, breathe for them. And they expect us not to fall in love?” He smiles, small and knowing.
Zoro’s eyes widen and he sputters, trying to muster a response. The man only laughs more.
OR
Being a good first mate was easy enough for Zoro. That is, until the… feelings.
If I Had to Give a Reason by MiniPandaBuns [5k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Tooth-rotting fluff, Zoro and his view of luffy, #feelings, love confession, idiots in loveee
“I wonder what you see in him.”
"Too much." He'd say. "It's endless. All of my reasons can't be condensed into words."
I love him simply because he exists. Because Luffy is Luffy, limitless and free.
Inseparable on the face of Impossibility by the11thhour [25k]
Rating: Not Rated
Luffy is taken by some bad guy, his boyfriend and family (crew) to the rescue! #superworriedzoro:(
A fun trip to a new island takes a turn for the worse when a mysterious group of pirates cause trouble and Luffy goes missing. The crew led by Zoro embark on a mission to get their captain back while his vivre card burns away.
When the Dew Falls Up by louluna [10k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Time travel au, there are two zoros!!
As the bright light enveloped his body, Zoro knew his day had gone to absolute shit.
New year's kiss by grimsoul [4k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Post wano, the title is pretty self explanatory i guess.. fluff, very sweet!!
Luffy didn’t understand back then but the couple seemed so happy. Kissing someone to strengthen a relationship must have really worked.
It’s been long since that time so Luffy had almost forgotten about it. But then as he sails again now with his crew—the title of an Emperor latched to his name, their journey getting closer and closer to the One Piece, to his dream—a new year approaches them.
Found in the Crack of Your Palm by The_Furthest_City_Light [11k]
Rating: General Audiences
#luffybeingsuperdemisexualatzorofor11k (personally demi luffy is my favorite headcanon of him!)
Zoro’s hands are big, thick and knuckly and covered in calluses from his swords. He has a strong grip, too, and strong muscles because he trains them to be strong.
None of it explains the way Luffy’s body lights up when Zoro clasps the back of his neck, like every nerve is alight and trained on the palm cupping the baby hairs at the back of his skull. His stomach knots over itself and he wants to eat everything in Sanji’s kitchen. Zoro’s skin is a little rough and sweaty from fighting and warm.
Zoro is close, his forehead nearly butting Luffy’s and Luffy couldn’t move if he wanted to, trapped there by the closeness and the touch that makes him aware of Zoro’s skin against his in a way he’s never been before.
Zoro’s eyes bore into his, digging deep into Luffy and dragging out—something, buried in the base of his spine. He feels like the earth is tilting, and freefall seems like it might be fun.
the moon asks a question by d_s_writes [1k]
Rating: General Audiences
A very short fic, but can't stop thinking about the rest of strawhats and their idea of love vs luffy's, like- he really gagged me here😭
Zoro doesn’t understand—how can he feel all the things that the others had spoken of, yet none of it the same time? He felt that each of their versions of love were merely motions of love, rather than love itself.
He doesn’t get it. Love has never been a word, or a sense of belonging, or any of those things. He had only ever really thought of love when he looked at Luffy.
OR: An investigation of the lives and loves of the Strawhat Pirates.
Robin knows by leopardgeckoz [3k]
Rating: General Audiences
Oh moment for both zoro and luffy but especially for the oblivious captain
In which Nico Robin has always known how her captain and first mate feel for one another, and the scenario's in which the rest of the crew discover it.
Alternatively
"Every passing hour of Luffy's silence drove Zoro further and further into madness. He wanted Luffy's smile, his laugh, his chatter, but his captain had spent the better part of the day on the complete opposite sides of the ship as Zoro. Out of sight, but most certainly not out of mind. If anything, his absence plagued Zoro's even more."
step 1: die by swordsmans [11k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Roronoa zoro and his unstoppable self destru sacrificing tendency for his one and only captain (featuring sanji!)
After two years with Ivankov, Sanji knows something about Luffy that Zoro does not.
ship to wreck by novks (thychesters) [9k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Zoro and luffy but from nami's perspective?? Mutual pinning and luffy's oh moment
Nami is the first one to notice something is amiss, but then given her current competition is Luffy and Zoro, it isn’t surprising.
“Do you love Zoro?” She doesn’t bother beating around the bush. Doesn’t bother with easing into it with any metaphors or small talk, one of which Luffy would have little interest in, and the other of which would go over his head.
He stares back at her, and for a split second she feels like she’s gone and shoved her foot right into her mouth. Something flickers through his eyes, but she doesn’t have time to fully study it before his features shutter again.
Luffy tilts his head. “Of course I do.”
Part of her wants to cheer, shout aha! because she knew it, dammit, but then he proceeds to barrel right over that.
“I love you too,” to which she freezes, and then: “And Usopp, and Sanji, I guess. You guys are my friends.”
She wants to scream.
But Patience Boasts by Augment [9k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Ughh i love the way this fic portray zoro and sanji's dynamic… anyways, lowkey wingman sanji!
Sanji and Zoro have very different love languages.
Kizuna by YokoHogawa [5k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
#nakamaship, basically
Usopp carefully watches Luffy over the sandwich he is biting into, and he can’t help but worry.
Sanji has an anxiety problem.
Something wakes Zoro at the crack of dawn.
Half a step (into the sun) by TheOctopusofWriting [29k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Demon prince zoro, that's it, that's the point.
Zoro was the exiled prince of an island of demons. He spent the first portion of his life wandering from island to island without any place to really call home, that is until he follows a boy in a strawhat out to sea and finds the home he'd been looking for
to cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades [10k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Smth smth the bond between captain and first mate...
Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his
Take Me Out to Sea by MiniPandaBuns [3k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audience
Just them being all sweet and wholesome<3
Luffy and Zoro take a pleasant little swim together, despite the fact that Luffy can't swim and Zoro told him no. Many times.
He just can't refuse his Captain. Even if he does, Luffy still wins, because he's just Luffy and that's how it goes.
everybody wants your time by dwaal [3k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Uhh abo au, omega zoro and alpha luffy, jealousy, bonded mates, making out, y knoww~
An unclaimed omega on the seas can be a liability. It's commonplace for captains to bite any of their crew to prevent any incidents, but the marks are usually temporary.
Zoro is intensely aware of this, as Boa Hancock proceeds to make herself at home on the arm of his captain's chair
it's an ambush! by tuhituhi [3k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Zoro meeting his bf's brothers for the first time!
Luffy's middle name should be B. for Blindside the way he's constantly taking Zoro off guard. Or maybe the D. stood for Devious, or Devil- any of them would fit, considering the Situations this man has put him through. OR
Zoro meets Luffy's brothers. Was he expecting this? Technically. Was he prepared for this?
Not in the slightest
end of summer (now i know) by taka0 [2k]
Rating: Mature
Just luffy being very sappy (and a tiny bit horny) about his zoro<3
Luffy loves all of Zoro while they lie in a hammock.
Ocean theology by swordsmans [40k]
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Reincarnation au, yearning and devotion, symbolism-
“Zoro—”
“Did you know?” he repeats, desperate, and Luffy just looks at him. And he wonders, then, how much of this has been preordained—how much of this is real, how much of this is him. How much of what he’s felt since they were wedged side-to-side in a shitty wooden boat on the East Blue has actually mattered, and how much has been the universe pressing him down into the mold of someone else's heart.
And then Luffy is gripping his horns, bringing his forehead down to meet his, repeating, “Zoro? Zoro?” like his name is a mantra, like he’s gone somewhere far away and gotten lost on his way back.
And Zoro blinks at him, then, and sees both of them at once—both of them—and he grips Luffy’s face in his own hands (claws) and presses his lips (violent, full of teeth) against his. Because this is who he has been waiting a thousand years for, the brightest and most beautiful of them all, the one thing he could never have—could never see, not if (Luffy, Joyboy, Nika) had made different (worse) choices—the thing that could never thrive in the darkness, just like he could never (has been unable to for centuries) survive without it—
let thy sword be thy tongue by queerweather [14k]
Rating: Mature
Sword language, sword personification, swords- zoro not being so normal about his captain, whats new?
It’s strangely exhilarating, imagining himself on his knees in front of Luffy, blindfolded. Like he really is getting executed this time. All of Zoro’s senses stand at attention and his mouth fills with saliva.
The flat of Kitetsu’s blade presses cold against Zoro’s cheek. “Zoro,” Luffy scolds. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”
.
.
.
Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Zoro is not afraid of Luffy handling his swords; Zoro is afraid of how Luffy handling his swords might unravel him.
The only animal by batman [10k]
Rating: Explicit (sexual content)
It's about roronoa zoro and how he pines for his captain
It wasn't until Kuraigana that he realised how the world had split into two kinds of touch: swords and hands.
Luffy's hands.
(In a stolen week between islands, Luffy touches Zoro again.)
Sunward bound by iffervescent [13k]
Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top zoro)
Ace luffy & sex positive luffy!!
Zoro's a pirate bounty hunter, which means he's used to going after the pirate he wants and getting them. Except this time the pirate he wants is his captain and now he has no fucking clue what to do.
Expressions by Leoporidae_Lagomorpha [2k]
Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)
Them being disgustingly in love whats new?, sexy times (plot what plot)
Monkey D. Luffy knows, that despite popular opinion, Roronoa Zoro is a man of many expressions.
hanabi | 花火 by narramin [8k]
Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)
Just the captain and his first mate being silly while enjoying their date in wano (eventual smut)
firework /ˈfʌɪəwəːk/
noun
plural noun: fireworks
• a device containing gunpowder and other combustible chemicals which causes spectacular effects and explosions when ignited, used for display or in celebrations.
• a display of great skill or energy.
Luffy and Zoro finally reunite in Wano, visit a gambling den and go on a less than traditional festival date night.
a tale of two gods by grimsoul [6k]
Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top zoro, implied switching)
Sun of God x God of death. a fiery tryst between two gods
“Ne, Zoro, come with me,” Luffy said, giggling, pulling him closer. “You’re going to be a part of my court.”
Contrary to what most people believed, hell was a rather cold place. Zoro had been quite used to it, the lack of light, the vast glaciers, his body no longer as fragile as it was eons ago, and so a simple touch like this from Luffy, from the sun, made him feel like his flesh was scorched—melting away easily like winter in summer’s heat.
They were close, so close that their foreheads were almost touching, and despite the burn of it, Zoro didn’t push him away. He smirked, his one eye glowing just as red as Luffy’s.
“Don’t decide something on your own, idiot.”
running just to keep my hands on you by nevermordor [6k]
Rating: Explicit (sexual content, switching)
They are so competitive in pretty much everything lol
The thing they do is kind of like a game, because Luffy likes games, but it’s also kind of a competition because Zoro can’t not turn anything and everything into a competition. It doesn’t have a name and there are only two rules, because more than two would just be making things boring and overcomplicated.
1. Whoever takes out the most guys in a fight is the winner
2. Whoever is the loser has to do whatever the winner says
“Why’s it gotta be a whole game and stuff," Luffy says. "That’s gonna take too long.”
“It makes sex more fun," Zoro explains. "You gotta win it, you gotta earn it. Like anything good in life. Like pirate king or greatest swordsman.”
Luffy considers this.
One on one by EclecticIsMyMiddleName [6k]
Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)
Post canon, domestic married luffy and zoro my beloved… they are so in love?? It's sickening
Zoro's just trying to get ready for the day, but Luffy has other plans
Prayers Carried on Waves Reach the Sun by anarchycox [8k]
Rating: Mature (sexual content, switching)
Sun god luffy & demon zoro ftw
Luffy is the sun god, Nika. Zoro is a demon. And his boyfriend. They make it work. On earth the Thousand Sunny is the ship of worship for the sun god, the crew Nika's priests. When they call for help, Luffy and Zoro go to their aid.
Luffy decides they should stay a while, and Zoro loves him enough to do so.
Being human is a pain and stupid, but for his Luffy, he'll endure it.
Ok i need to stop here cuz it's getting way too longgg, but i'm just so ill about the two of them sorry not sorry😭😭
#zolu#luzo#monkey d. luffy#roronoa zoro#one piece#fics recs#honestly whats stopping me from recommending over 50+ fics??#self preservation!#also uhh to anon... reminder to read the tags before reading the fics!!#also is zoluzo an actual tag?
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄
PAIRING: bucky barnes x f!reader
SUMMARY: bucky barnes and the domesticity he deserves.
WORD COUNT: 1.1k
RATING + WARNINGS: general audiences, domestic themes, fluff. use of she/her, more fluff, use of y/n, more fluff. in my head reader works outside lolzies
NOTES: marvel!? again!? it never ended!! just switched to something else for a bit but hesthermay will always be a multifandom blog! i quite literally am attached to too many things for it to just be one anymore lmao. anyways!! this is apart of the lady may universe, all works will be labelled as such but remember they do not need to be read in any order or together at all! they can be read as standalone stories because they are all apart of a collection!!
MARVEL MASTERLIST LADY MAY UNIVERSE
The sun had just finished setting, the dark sky staring back at him as he stood in front of the kitchen window.
Bucky Barnes wiped his flesh hand on his jeans before reaching up to readjust the phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder before it could fall. His other remained submerged in the soapy dishwater, metal fingers clutching the wine glass more delicately than his past self ever thought he could as he secured the device. “No, Steve—if you need me, I can come back.”
The blonde man shot him down immediately, insisting that it would only be a waste. Bucky sighed deeply and quietly, knowing his friend was as stubborn as they came.. “Alright, punk; if you say so.”
Truth be told, he did not want to go back just yet. As tired as he’d gotten over the years, the fight most likely wouldn’t ever leave James Buchanan Barnes’ life and that was just something he was going to have to accept. But when he’s here, in the tiny town in the middle of nowhere that was his very slice of paradise, there was no fighting. Only hard work and long days, warm evenings and calm nights, and loud laughter and dinners shared between two.
The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he had predicted, but one he would never take for granted. It was…all he could possibly want. If the world were to end tomorrow, he would spend his last moments with his lips on hers.
A tail hitting against his calf was what caught his attention and momentarily pulled him away from the conversation, glancing down at the plump dog stood next to him. Her eyes were trained on the doorway of the kitchen and the brunette knew exactly what she’d picked up on, a grin growing on his face as the last dish was dried and put away.
“Steve, I gotta go, Y/N/N just got home…okay, okay—I’ll tell her,” he chuckled as his metal hand swiped a rag over the counter quickly.
“Tell who what?” A voice piped up from behind him and the cloth was soon abandoned as he whirled around. There she was, standing in the doorway dressed for work and looking like it’d been a long day of it, while still radiating the kind of beauty he swore he’d never get tired of.
Bucky’s grin grew into a smile impossibly fast for a man who used to be a shell, a weapon, but that wasn’t unusual for him these days. “Ah, speak of the devil and she shall appear,” he remarked, and was met with an eye roll from his love and a laugh from his friend, before pulling the phone away from his ear.
With one click, Steve Rogers was put on speaker phone and thrown under the bus. “Stevie says you owe him a dinner from when he kicked your ass in beer pong.”
“I did not say that!”
Y/N’s laugh echoed around the kitchen and filled Bucky’s chest with joy. “Oh, well quit your complaining and get your ass down here then!” She called out as she made her way to the fridge, boots thumping against the floor. “And last I recall, there was no ass kicking. You barely beat me, Rogers.”
Steve and Y/N got along great, and it had become obvious to Bucky very quickly that they acted just like siblings. Their dynamic mimicked that of an older brother and younger sister, and if they didn’t look so different it’d be hard to tell they weren’t related. If they were, Bucky knew she’d give Steve a run for his money.
“I’m all booked up for the next few weeks unfortunately,” the captain’s voice filtered through the speaker, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to a visit after I clear everything up.”
“Oh,” Bucky drawled out as he leaned against the counter, arms and ankles crossed in the very name of ease, “I bet you wouldn’t. Grandma’s cooking’s pretty good, right?”
Another laugh was accompanied by the popping of a beer bottle’s cap coming off and the clinging sound of it hitting the floor. “You’re damn right!” Leaning down to pick up the trash, Y/N continued to speak to Steve but the mechanic had already gained tunnel vision.
His eyes were on her everywhere she went, observing the way her lips formed the words but not really hearing what they were, the way her eyes flitted over to him every few minutes because she was just as obsessed with him as he was her.
The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he predicted, but one he would rather die than take for granted. It was his greatest gift.
The sound of his name broke his concentration and he was brought back to the present, tuning in to the conversation to hear Steve saying his goodbyes, throwing a ‘talk to ya later, Buck!’ at the end before he hung up. The phone was forgotten, remaining in the same spot with a black screen as the family of two now focused solely on one another. Y/N walked to the sink, beginning to wash her hands as she looked at the man before her with a semi serious face. “I sure am glad Steve let you have a break even with this long mission. I was starting to go a little crazy,” she chuckled.
“I’ll always find a way back to you, lover girl,” he replied smoothly with that crooked grin as one hand reached out to swipe a thumb across her cheek, wiping off the smudge of dirt left over from her day at work. She beamed at him and he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself from pulling her in for a kiss; a kiss that conveyed how much he’d missed her, how long he’d waited for her, and just how much he loved her.
When they broke apart she laughed ever so softly, eyes a little out of focus as she recovered from the display of affection. “You gonna let me set the table, Barnes?”
“I suppose I could,” he feigned reluctance, waiting until the very last second to release his hold on her face, hands slowly pulling away from her face where they were gently resting.
“Thank you for making dinner, by the way,” she threw over shoulder as she made her way into the next room with the plates and silverware stacked in her hands, and he followed her with the trays of food he had prepared for them.
“Of course, doll,” he assured, knowing that if not for her he wouldn’t be able to make this meal nor would he have the motivation to learn how to. This domesticity, the routine of home life, was utter bliss.
The life that Bucky Barnes had gained was not one he ever thought was possible for him, but it was one he would never let go of. It was all he needed, all he wanted, all he’d dreamt of.
all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my work as your own.
#the witch: writes#—marvel#—lady may universe#—signed; barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes oneshot#james barnes x reader#james barnes x you#james barnes imagine#marvel au#avengers au#avengers x reader#cannon divergence#domestic!bucky#mechanic!bucky
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you keep watching my eyes
Merlin/Arthur Pendragon. 1.100 words. General Audiences. AO3.
…….
"Come on, attack me as if you mean it."
Merlin adjusts his footing into a defensive posture, expecting his taunt to rise something in Arthur. It does. Apart from his words, his eyes are heavy on Arthur’s, his lips red and smug, his hands clenching and unclenching, ready to cast.
A soft breeze ruffles his hair. Arthur swings his sword.
Their weapons clash with a piercing sound, the force of it sends a thrill down Arthur’s arms. He laughs with exhilaration and swings again.
Little are the times when they can escape from their duties. It happened more often when Merlin was his servant, but since Arthur named him court sorcerer they never seem to have time for themselves, even though they still spend most of their days together.
That's why Arthur decided to tell Merlin to go to the stables that morning, and without explanation, he threw him the reins of his horse.
Merlin didn't complain, so he took it as a win.
The travel through the forest was surprisingly swift and uneventful. The gallop of the horses blended with the singing of birds above them, and blooming flowers announced the coming of spring. In the middle of all that nature, Arthur watched Merlin admire the landscape, and longed.
They arrived at a clearing covered in daisies, ate some of the food Arthur had brought and talked about the latest court gossip they knew. Then, when the silence grew too comfortable, Arthur had the marvellous idea of duelling, him with his sword and Merlin with his magic. The idea turned out not to be so marvellous, because he is, as expected, losing.
Merlin fends off every single one of his blows with magic. Arthur has never had more fun sparring.
“Is that all you’ve got?” Merlin taunts him, and, all right, he’d have more fun if Merlin didn’t spend half of the time mocking him.
"I'm trying here," Arthur does not whine, because kings don't whine.
"What? Is this too hard for the best warrior of Albion?"
Arthur gives him a smirk,
"You think I'm a good warrior?"
Merlin rolls his eyes and attacks again with the one-handed staff he had conjured. His eyes shine golden, like a sunset but better. Arthur gets a good few hits, trying to get closer to him.
Arthur swings to his right, leaving his left open, and Merlin hits him with a beam of magic that sends him to the ground, landing on a bunch of daisies.
"You keep watching my eyes," Merlin points as he offers him a hand, "which is a good way of getting yourself killed."
Arthur takes the hand and gets up. He is closer to Merlin than he intended, but neither steps away. There, face to face, breathing the same air, Arthur pretends to be calm and with a grin says,
"What? Trying to kill me often?"
Merlin looks at him with something resembling fondness, but that might be exasperation. Then he puts his hand on Arthur's shoulder and gently pushes him, creating a distance between them Arthur never wants to be there.
"One last time?" Merlin asks. Arthur nods and grabs his sword from the ground.
He swings first, to Merlin's right, the sword bouncing off a golden magic shield. Merlin moves his hand down, and magic forms the vague shape of a sword that looks less solid than Arthur knows it is.
Merlin is not holding his weapon; it hovers in the air above his hand, and though it gives him agility and speed, it lacks firmness. Arthur strikes it, stepping towards Merlin, who steps back. Merlin swings, meeting Arthur's sword once, twice. He steps back again and slowly circles Arthur. He is careful to fully face Merlin at all times, though that is something he doesn’t need much practice on.
It’s easy to lose yourself in the slow dance that is fighting. Paying attention to every little one of your opponent's movements, and pointedly not looking at his eyes. Merlin raises his sword, and Arthur meets him there. Then, he lowers them both with a swift movement, and takes advantage of the lack of obstacles between them to tackle Merlin with his shoulder.
Because that is something Merlin has not yet learned. Your weapon is only an extension of yourself, and you must fight like you dance: with your whole body.
He lands on top of Merlin with a thud, and grinning, he says,
"I think I win."
Just after he speaks he realises how breathy his voice is, how his panting is less controlled than he thought it was. He notices how Merlin's chest moves against his own.
He rolls off him before their closeness makes him do something stupid, because this is something he has yet not learned: He can’t just tackle Merlin and expect to feel normal when they touch. He settles on his back, grass tickling his neck and forearms.
"You win," Merlin breathes. He then gets himself comfortable on the ground and closes his eyes.
Sunlight filters through the tree leaves and paints Merlin with light, and Arthur wants to trace every inch of his face with his fingertips. The curve of his lips, his nose, his cheekbones. He wishes he could have the peace to see him like this every day, forever.
"I can feel you watching me," Merlin whispers.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he whispers back.
Merlin's lips stretch into a smile. He turns his face towards Arthur and opens his eyes. Arthur does not have the strength to look away.
Merlin props himself on an elbow, and looking down at Arthur, haloed by the afternoon light, says,
"Hi."
"Hi," Arthur answers, unsure how to react and what to do as Merlin brings a hand to his cheek, and, ever so slowly, leans down.
When their lips touch, it’s like the sun meeting the horizon. Arthur never wants to let go. He wraps his arms around Merlin, who climbs onto his lap without breaking the kiss.
Arthur lets his hands travel to Merlin's neck, then lower to whatever warmth they can find. He can feel one of Merlin’s hands on his chest, where his heart threatens to escape from his ribcage.
"I think I win, now," Merlin murmurs against his lips.
Arthur can only manage a "hm?", his mind fuzzy.
"I'm on top of you. I win."
Arthur huffs.
"That's cheating."
"According to who?" He can feel Merlin's smile against his.
"Me." He runs his fingers over Merlin's cheek, his chin, his jaw. It feels better than he would have ever imagined. "Now stop talking."
#merlin#bbc merlin#merlin bbc#merlin fanfic#merthur#merthur fanfic#my writing#arthur x merlin#merlin x arthur#bbc merlin fanfic#arthur pendragon#i realized i never posted this here.... oopsies
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A scene that will only be referenced in the next chapter, but I was overcome with the urge to write it out anyway:
Boil catches Stitch's entry onto the bridge out of the corner of his eye.
He elbows Waxer, grinning. The kid's got a pair of crutches under one arm, and they'd both noticed the way the Commander had been leaning on the holotable, stubbornly ignoring the General's not-so-subtle disapproving look and the chair Waxer had fruitlessly nudged into place behind him.
This is going to be a show.
Stitch scans the bridge, eyes narrowed, until he catches sight of the Commander. He walks forward, stopping a few respectful feet behind him, and--
waits.
Thirty seconds pass.
Then a minute.
More and more eyes are landing on him. Poorly-muffled giggling blooms across the bridge.
"Hi, Stitch," Waxer says cheerfully.
"Hi, sir," Stitch says politely, his gaze flickering sideways in acknowledgement before returning to Cody's back.
Cody's shoulders slump.
Eventually, the holocall ends. General Kenobi is the first to turn around.
"Hello, Stitch," he says, smiling faintly. "Can I help you?"
"No thank you, sir. I'm waiting for the Commander, sir."
There's only so long Cody can avoid turning around, and he knows it. With a long, deep sigh, he turns.
"Hi, sir," Stitch says brightly, and thrusts the crutches forward. "You forgot these."
"Those aren't mine," Cody says immediately. "I left mine in my office. I'll grab them after."
"These are yours," Stitch says patiently. "I put a sticker on them when Helix first gave them to you. See?"
He points. Cody leans forward, searching despite himself--
His expression flattens out.
"It's a lightsaber," Stitch says helpfully. "Needle made it. He said you'd forgotten your crutches before, and I thought a sticker would be helpful for you to remember which are yours. Helix says taking initiative is a good thing."
"I... see."
He still doesn't take them.
Stitch sighs. "Is this because Helix yelled at you for kicking droids again, and you don't want to prove him right?"
"No," Cody grinds out, and Waxer muffles a wheezing laugh in Boil's shoulder. General Kenobi's expression is carefully blank.
"Is it because--"
"They're uncomfortable," Cody sighs. He lowers his voice, conscious of their delighted audience, and there's a ripple of coughing and clearing of throats as people turn back to their assigned tasks. "They-- my shoulders keep cramping. I need to be able to fire a blaster, Stitch. I'm minimizing my movement as much as possible, I promise."
"Uncomfortable," Stitch echos, looking baffled. "Why didn't you say so, sir? Give me-- ten minutes, please. I can fix that. I'll be back soon. Can you sit down in the meantime, please?"
"I'll make sure he does, Stitch," the General interjects, and Stitch nods seriously.
"Thank you, sir," he says, and nods at them both before vanishing out the door.
"You're enjoying this far too much, sir," Cody hisses, as Kenobi carefully helps him settle into the long-ignored chair.
"My dear Commander," Kenobi says, laughing, "I'm simply glad it's not me this time."
Cody's glare could incinerate a Hutt. The General remains cheerfully unaffected.
When Stitch returns, he brings with him a painstakingly adjusted pair of crutches. Layers of cotton batting is tied carefully to the pads, and the grips have been adjusted a few levels upwards.
"Try these, please," he says, handing them over.
Cody reluctantly accepts them. "All right. Later, when I--"
Stitch is looking at him very expectantly.
He sighs. "Yes, Stitch."
He levers himself to his feet and takes a few halting steps. Boil watches, fascinated, as astonishment flickers across his expression before it settles into a quiet resignation.
"This-- is better," he mutters. "Very much so."
Stitch beams. "Thank you, sir! And you'll make sure to use them until you're cleared?"
"Yes, Stitch."
"And you won't forget about your follow-up tomorrow? You can have a juice box. Or a pudding cup. You can choose. Needle got some."
Waxer coos. Cody glares at him.
("That's KP duty for you," Boil whispers. "Just you wait.")
"I won't, Stitch."
"Good. Thank you, sir. And- Helix told me to tell you that you- that you're lucky you got me and not him, sir, because he'd be, um- a damn sight louder, sir, because he's got no patience for- for idiots, sir."
A beat.
"That's from him, sir," Stitch repeats anxiously.
Cody sighs. "That's all right, Stitch. Well done."
Stitch brightens immediately, rocking back on his heels. "I'll save you a chocolate pudding cup, sir, if you like. Those ones are the best, so they tend to go fast."
A smile flickers across Cody's face. "Thank you. I'd appreciate it. You're dismissed."
Stitch salutes-- shiny little tubie, small gods-- and vanishes out the door.
Kenobi has given up the game entirely, now, and is grinning broadly. Cody turns on him immediately.
"Stop that."
"Stop what, my dear?"
"The thing you're doing with your face."
"Smiling?"
"Smugly. Yes."
"I'm just pleased with our medics' professionalism, Commander."
"I've got two dozen witnesses to that for the next time you try to dodge them."
"Noted. Can I have your pudding cup?"
"No."
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Rainy Streams
Rating: General Audiences
Warning:Fluffy fluff, even more fluff
Category:F/M
Fandom: Vinnie hacker (streamer, tiktoker)
Relationships: !boyfriend Vinnie x !f reader
Summary: You and Vinnie do a late night 24 hour stream
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Vinnie has become a household name in the online world, especially with the teen girls and gamers. However, what many people don't know is that behind his charismatic persona lies a soft-hearted and affectionate person who loves nothing more than spending time with you, his girlfriend.
One rainy night, you and Vinnie were cuddled up on the couch in the cozy apartment watching your all time favorite anime. As you snuggled closer together under a warm blanket, Vinnie turned his head to rest on yours and said, "I have an idea. How about we do a 24-hour stream together?"
You looked at him skeptically. "Are you sure? That's going to be a lot of work, plus its like 3 am right now."
Vinnie grinned mischievously. "Come on Y/n, it'll be fun! We can play games, chat with the fans, and just hang out all night long. Please baby."
You couldn't resist Vinnie's infectious enthusiasm and agreed to the idea. You and Hera watched as Vinnie quickly set up the equipment and started streaming.
"Hey guys I wanted to do a 24-hour stream at 3 am how smart of me right, but I'm gonna have help form my lovely girl to keep me up with you all!" Vinnies stated as he pulled you onto his lap.
As the hours ticked by, you and Vinnie played games together while chatting with the fans who had tuned in from all over the world. The rain continued to pour outside as you laughed and joked around like old friends with chat. The both of you kept taking turns plaing a few rounds with some of the fans from chat just to keep this interesting.
At one point during the stream, You leaned on head on Vinnie's shoulder with Hera in your arms as he wrapped his arm around your waist. "I'm so glad we're doing this," he whispered.
"Me too," you replied softly as you kissed his neck without squashing Hera.
You were about 12 hours into the stream
As the both of you played game after game. Exhausted but happy from how early you both decide to start streaming together, you both had ended up in the pull out bed from the couch in each other's arms.
But the stream was still going and you could tell that some of the fans we just rolling in or just lurking the stream.
"That was the most amazing sleep ever," you said with a yawn.
Vinnie smiled sleepily at you as he rubbed his eyes."Yeah, it was. But you know what's even better?"
"What?" You asked while yawning once again.
Vinnie leaned in and kissed you gently on the lips. "Spending time with you."
The cause you to blush and snuggle closer to him. "I love you," you whispered.
"I love you too," Vinnie replied as they took turns keeping the stream interesting while they each got ready and freshend to finish out the stream.
"So Vinnie they said we should cook dinner to end the stream, watcha think." You asked us you look up with the most purest doe eyes ever. "Yeah, yeah let's do it."
Buy the time the both of you were done the kitchen was a mess, the food had long been devoured and stream was ticking closer to the 24 hour mark.
"Alright chat, we're done with our food and it's almost 3 am. I just wanna say thanks for watching and staying the whole stream, and also if we don't post for two days we're sleeping." You chuckled at his statement but nod in agreement.
"Yeah even though we took at 4 hour nap it didn't help much, but we will do another 24-hour stream in a few weeks and we shall be better prepared." You stated as you yawned once more for the 10th time
"Yes but for now everyone, everywhere, I hope you all have a good morning, day, or night, we shall be going to sleep now."
After you both said your final farewells you both crashed and you crashed hard. "Sleep well baby, you deserve it." You said in a low tone as you drift into a deep sleep.
#vinnie hacker imagine#oneshot#streamer#tiktoker#vinnie x reader#vinnie hacker#vinnie fluff#24 hour stream#vinnie imagines#vinnie fanfic#vinnie hacker x y/n#vinnie hacker oneshot#y/n x vinnie#poc reader#rebloging
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Not a Hothead (Reader x Firelord Zuko)
Requested by anonymous for Hey hey! Can I request some Zuko (atla) headcanons (gn s/o, preferably).His usually quiet and peaceful s/o is having a bad day and needs to blow off steam, and then get cuddles from himUp to you if it takes place before or after he's Firelord Tysm in advance ♥️
Zuko tries not to complain so much about his duties as Firelord.
He's only just become an adult, but he's already facing the duties a much older ruler would have been trained for.
But he bears it all, because he has the responsibility, but also the privilege of helping form a better world.
And he has you by his side!
Although it's clear today that you are not in such a great mood.
He can practically sense the tension, noticing the way you pull your hands into the sleeves of your robes to conceal your clenched fists.
The gritting of your teeth
In between audiences with generals and representatives, he looks at you.
"Meet me in the private courtyard when we're free."
Your days aren't exactly stress-free, even as the consort of the Firelord. You need to help him with his work and, traditionally, keep the spiritual and physical wellbeing of the Royal Household all on the up-and-up.
Which means conducting traditional ceremonies with the Fire Sages, organizing the guard rotation for the palace, and working with officials in the Fire Nation capital to improve the lives of citizens.
And while you and Zuko definitely make time to spend with each other, restructuring an entire society that has spent the last one hundred years as the aggressors in a global war is certainly nowhere near a stress-free endeavor.
It's just a bad day today.
You're a little surprised at Zuko's words - he's not the greatest at being spontaneous.
But you still meet him in the private courtyard, and it's an interesting sign that he's shirtless.
You smirk. "So, am I going to be watching you train, like I did back when you were training Aang?"
Zuko suddenly looks surprised. "You watched that?"
You grin. "Oh, you think I fell for your sparkling personality?"
He laughs at the teasing before pointing to the training dummies he has set up. "Today, you're going to be training with me."
He blushes. "I just thought... well, nothing really helps me get rid of stress more than training, and then we could blow off steam, and..."
You chuckle. "And then we can take a bath and cuddle?"
He nods. "Sure. All night, if you want."
He takes you through some firebending martial art forms, which actually are surprisingly tough to learn, but feel really good when you start to get it right.
Zuko teaches you how to breathe properly, which really helps you feel so more energized and calm, even as you train.
Finally, after an hour or so of punches and breathing (which doesn't sound particularly fun, but Zuko actually does make it pretty fun to learn)
It helps to get out that aggression you had, and even more exciting is the promise of getting to take a bath and cuddle with him after.
After a beautiful luxurious bath with scented soaps and perfumed oils, you get to see Zuko in his loose robe and pants he wears for lounging around. He smiles as you lunge at him and tackle him onto a nest of cushions and bury your head in his chest to smell the clean scent of soap.
"I'm sorry I've been so out of it today." you whisper.
Zuko chuckles. "You do remember what I was like back during the war, right? Every day was a bad day. It's normal to feel stress, and... I want you to be able to count on me to help get you through it."
You give him a gentle kiss. "I love you, Zuko."
"I love you too."
#atla x male reader#zuko x male reader#zuko x reader#gender neutral reader#atla headcanons#headcanons
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I'll Be Better in the Morning
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F! Reader
(Read Here on AO3)
Rating: General Audiences
Word Count: 2.3k
Tags: Comfort fic, Hurt/Comfort, Body Dysmorphia, Fluff, Established Relationship, Soft Soap, Oneshot
Warnings: TW for body image issues
A/N: This is horrifically self indulgent don't look at me
Summary:
Johnny kisses you in the same way a mourning dove sings the dawn. Slow, poignant, tender and somehow remorseful. The feather light sensation of it spills across your tongue in hazy, dusky colors, wraps you within a warm, intimate embrace. You want to drown in it, fall asleep in its comfort, imbue the gentle touch of it into the worn, weary cracks of your soul.
"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever lain eyes on in my entire life, you know that?" He asks, and there's emotion in his voice now, threatening to crack his words.
You feel your lip tremble, eyes stinging with tears as you try to blink them away. Johnny raises a hand, links it over yours placed on his chest, fingers intertwining as he raises it up, places a kiss across your knuckles. Somehow, you know he loves that part of you too.
There's a weight settled across your shoulders.
Aching, groaning, gnawing at your thoughts. It settles across you like a shroud, blanketing your senses in hazy, muted colors and dimming the world around you. Heavy, it threatens to buckle your nerves, chafes at your restrained composure. The mere reminder of the day's events clogs the back of your throat, draws your arms a little tighter into your sides, stiffens your stance.
You're tired.
It's a hurt that's hard to quell, one that lingers even as you try vainly to ignore it. Summoned by a flash of memory, a glance into the reflection of a storefront, the bags under your eyes as you wash your face, try to regain yourself in front of your coworkers. Most days the weight is lessened, you can carry it in a pocket. Today, however, it lays low across your spine, slouches you forward as you drag it behind you, feel its gravity threaten to immerse you into sorrow.
It harmonizes with the creak of your front door as you at last arrive at home, head drooping, eyes lowered to the floor. You kick off your shoes just inside the door, frowning when they don't automatically tuck themselves neatly away. Just another thing to manage when you don't have the energy to bother.
You want to just curl in bed, forego dinner and curl under the sheets, wish away the worries of the world and hope that, come morning, all will be well again.
"Babe?"
You blink, and it's Johnny's voice that manages to penetrate the dark, chalky grey fog of your mind.
"Babe, that you?"
He's calling from the living room, and you follow the trail of his sing-song voice like finding a lantern in the smog.
"Yeah, it's me." You reply, voice heavy, not bothering to hide the weight there. "I'm home. "
You peek into the living room, taking note of the flashing advertisements on the muted TV. Yet then you arch an eyebrow when you see Johnny...on the floor? Yet then he raises himself up and you realize he's doing pushups as the commercials roll. It's a habit that tugs at your tender heart strings, summons a weary, affectionate smile to your lips as you lean on the door frame.
Johnny manages a single "Hoof-!" as he at least straightens himself, rising to a stand and rolling his shoulders. You trace them as he does, watching appreciatively as the coil of muscles rolls under his shirt before he turns to you.
Your Johnny, bright and beautiful like the sun. He grins at the mere sight of you, eyes melting with adoration. Yet he pauses when he takes stock of your form, slouched against the door frame, eyes tired.
"Bonnie?" He asks then, voice softer, more hesitant. He speaks like a child witnessing something unknown for the first time. Curious, perhaps almost afraid. "What's wrong?"
That does it. Despite your valiant effort you're helpless against that look, his brow furrowing, eyes softening in concern, lips parting with his query. Hot wet tears pool across your gaze, and the hiccup you thought you swallowed comes rising back up again in a choked sob.
You hate this.
You straighten enough to bury your face in your hands, shoulders shuddering and face warming in embarrassment. Johnny's footsteps pace towards you, his voice a soothing balm against your cracked composure.
"Hey, hey, hey." He murmurs, and his calloused hands come and settle across your shoulders. You're tipped forward, into him, cradled against his chest like you're something fragile to the touch, held with such care it only threatens to crack you further. "Shh, it's alright, gorgeous. Just breathe. I got you."
Gorgeous.
You truly sob then, and the way his tongue rolls the endearment without any effort at all, so sincere and genuine you can't help but believe him. He echoes it with no hesitation, absolute adoration of you tucked into him, his arms wrapping around you and keeping you there, safe from everything but the chaos of your own mind.
Shoulders shuddering, you let your arms fall and then wrap around his back, fingers gripping at his shirt as if that alone can ground you.
"I'm sorry." You croak. "I-I don't mean to be such a mess."
"You've nothing to apologize for." He murmurs, and you're taken even further into him, your face raised up by a hand on your nape, guiding you into the crook of his shoulder as he bends over you, forces you up on your toes to meet him.
You cry there too. It's everything about him. Safe, warm, Johnny's touch around you is pure comfort, an indulgence that leeches the sorrow away from you, clears the muddy waters of your heart. Like sunlight spilling through rain clouds, Johnny's voice hushes away the weariness, the grief and the hurt of your tired soul. Here, in his embrace, Johnny feels like home.
There's a hand in your hair as Johnny shifts on his feet. He's backpedaling, bringing you with him, and it isn't long until you're both sitting on the couch. Still pressed into his shoulder, you lean into him, one hand gripping at his shirt and the other curled around his waist.
He pulls you away from him then, hands cupping your face and uplifting him to his beloved, tender gaze.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" He asks, and you sigh into the inside of his palm, feeling like you've just dipped your bare toes into a cool, babbling brook.
"It's nothing." You murmur there, but Johnny only clucks at you.
"No, no. None of that, hen." He tells you, turning your face again to look at him. His eyes are serious for a moment, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Yet then his beautiful eyes soften with affectionate worry, and you feel them pluck at the strings of your heart as he speaks once more.
"Don't shut me out. I'm here for you, so tell me what's gotten you in such a state, aye?"
You nod at him, a slow gentle gesture that summons a pleased smile to the tight draw of his face.
"C'mere." He mumbles, and again you're pressed into him, close enough so your cheek rests on his broad chest and you're left hearing the strong, reassuring drum of his heart there.
"I just...had a bad day." You start, sniffling and swallowing a sob. "I was just getting dressed this morning, after you'd already left for the base, decided to try and wear a dress to work."
"The red one?" He asks softly, and you nod.
"I tried it on, it felt comfortable and all, b-but..." You trail off, force down the lump in your throat at the memory of you standing in front of the mirror, watching your face fall. "I just...I hated it Johnny. Couldn't stand the sight."
"Of the dress?" He asks, and there's a note of perplexity in his voice as he tries to understand.
"No." You reply, voice quieter now. Weary, broken. "Of...of me."
Like a dam broken, you shudder long and hard, tears welling once more across your gaze before you hiccup, feel your sobs run over. The weight of it all presses down onto your shoulders, slouching you forward and dragging you down, downwards into the murky waters of sadness.
"Oh hen." Johnny murmurs, and he sounds heartbroken, upset and raw at your confession. That only makes you cry harder, voice cracking in your throat as you cling to him like a mast amidst a gale. "Sweetheart."
"I can't- can't do it, Johnny." You cry, voice trembling. "I try so hard not to let it bother me but I can't stand it, I hate the way I look. I can barely look at myself in the mirror without it hurting."
Johnny holds you as you ramble between your hiccups, his hand stroking steady, smooth circles into your back. He's silent, and with your cheek pressed into his chest you can't see his expression. You try to imagine it's woeful, sad, somehow not as disappointed as your thoughts tell you.
He draws you back then, hands lifting you, and you blink as suddenly you're shifted onto his lap, his hands coming to land on your waist. You pause, swallowing your next sob as you lift your eyes, look into his face.
There's an anguish there you don't recognize, one that threatens to fracture at your already wounded heart. Face pinched, Johnny's green eyes look at you with a sadness you feel reflected back into yourself, an endless prism of grief into each other.
He leans up, and you allow the motion automatically, able to discern his movements like the tides of the ocean against your bare legs. His lips graze over yours just once, and you feel his sigh there before he descends again, a hand cupping your nape, guiding you to him.
Johnny kisses you in the same way a mourning dove sings the dawn. Slow, poignant, tender and somehow remorseful. The feather light sensation of it spills across your tongue in hazy, dusky colors, wraps you within a warm, intimate embrace. You want to drown in it, fall asleep in its comfort, imbue the gentle touch of it into the worn, weary cracks of your soul.
"Gorgeous." He murmurs against the corner of your mouth, and it takes strength to not let your cries echo onto his lips.
"Johnny..." You try, voice heavy. "I-"
"Darling." He speaks then, pulling back so you can see his face, the way seriousness overrides the sadness and concern there. "Listen to me."
You do, pausing for a moment to let your eyes flicker down to your lap and then back up again.
"You are beautiful." He tells you, and his voice is sincere as his thumb strokes against your hip. "I wake up every day next to you and thank heaven I get to be the first one to see your smiling face."
He pauses, and you watch his throat bob as he tries to find the words.
"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever lain eyes on in my entire life, you know that?" He asks, and there's emotion in his voice now, threatening to crack his words.
"Your hair..." He begins, fingers skimming the edges of your scalp above your nape.
"Your shoulders." The hand drifts downwards, tracing across the rise of them.
"Your back." Downwards further still, you shivers as his fingers ghost across the small of your spine.
"Your hips." His palms settle on either side of you, squeezing gently for a moment before unclenching.
"Your thighs, your legs, your stomach, your chest..." He rambles on, taking a moment with each to let his hands feel over the feature, grounding you with his touch, admiring every inch of you. Then he raises himself up, lets his lips skim across yours.
"Those beautiful lips." He murmurs, and when he pulls back he's smiling.
"And there, those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes."
You feel your lip tremble, eyes stinging with tears as you try to blink them away. Johnny raises a hand, links it over yours placed on his chest, fingers intertwining as he raises it up, places a kiss across your knuckles. Somehow, you know he loves that part of you too.
"I love all of them." He tells you, and there's a radiance in his smile that bleeds into you, washes away the dirt and grime and leaves you refreshed, clean and gentle in his touch.
"I love them because you're beautiful, and because I love you." He finishes at last, and when he blinks you see his own eyes are glassy with an affection that threatens to brim them with wet warmth. "I wish I could spend every day just looking at you, hen. I'm so fucking crazy about you I can hardly stand it."
You don't know what to say, lips parted and eyes wide. So, you do the only thing you think of. You lean into him, wraps your arms around his neck and press your shuddering sigh to his lips, feel him drink it down and kiss you the way you need him to. The way you deserve.
"I love you too, Johnny." You whisper, voice fragile and devoted. "I think I love you more than I can ever love myself."
He makes a sound against you, and it hums against the roof of your mouth as he draws back, braces his forehead against yours.
"That will change." He tells you softly, earnestly. "Someday you'll be able to see what I see. I promise, gorgeous."
Then he pulls back, smiles wide up at you, and that shroud of yours lifts away from your shoulders with a sigh, escapes as no more than a dissipating mist in the dawn of him.
"Let's have ourselves an evening, yeah?" He asks, tone returning to his usual affectionate playfulness. "Takeout, your choice. Settle down and watch a movie."
His hand raises to your cheek, and you can't help but smile at him, at your Johnny, the most beautiful and precious gift you've ever received.
"Will you take me to bed after, soldier?" You ask trying to sound cheeky, and when Johnny laughs it sounds like church bells on a sky blue Sunday morning.
"Hen, if I had it my way, you'd never leave my bed." He tells you, voice dipping lower, husky and dragging in his chest. You shiver a little, and it only serves to make him grin wider, bigger up at you.
His face shifts again, and the smile lowers a bit into something more concerned, but containing all the wealth of love he has to offer to you.
"We're going to figure this out, aye?" He murmurs expectantly at you, and when you give him a shy, hesitant nod the grin returns.
"That's my girl." He rumbles, dragging you down once more into his lips.
"My beautiful, beautiful, gorgeous girl."
#johnny soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny 'soap' mactavish#john soap mactavish#cod mw22#oneshot#my writing#my fic#reader insert
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Shadows of the Past
Chapter 9: Midnight Masquerade
Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.
Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.
Word Count: 6.8K
Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.
Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]
Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.
Your eyes creep open when you hear the softly shutting door. Pushing yourself up, you smile while watching Astarion remove his coat, unbutton his chemise, and place it aside as shadows from the withering fire greet his pristine ivory skin.
“You’re gawking.” Astarion tsks with an endearing, lop-sided smile.
“Yes,” you smirk, drawing your lower lip between your teeth, “I am. Please continue undressing until you're bare.”
“Bold tonight, darling. Very bold.” He grins while removing his trousers and sits beside you on the bed, kissing your cheek, “I’m sorry I woke you. It seems I am out of practice.”
You give him an inquiring once over, “How did hunting go?”
No. Not out of practice. Hungry.
Astarion groans, rubbing his face, “Either I am truly not as subtle as I believe myself to be, or you know me exceptionally well.”
“A bit of this and a bit of that. Would you like to dine together?”
Astarion sweeps some stray strands of your hair behind your ear. His finger trails over your jaw and down your arm, “I can go a few more days.”
Rolling your eyes with a huff, you jostle him, “Foolish man.”
Astarion pulls you in and wraps his arm around your waist, pinning your back against his chest. You gasp as the temperature contrast sends shivers rocketing like a bolt of electricity down your spine while pulling your hair to the side and bearing your neck to him.
He kisses your shoulder, fingers ghosting up your stomach and between your breasts, “You like it when I feed on you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” your voice quivers with excited anticipation.
“Why is that?”
For a moment, you feel shy and become annoyed at yourself. You were never shy, not in general and certainly not with him. You’ve always been confident and unashamed - until he left.
“You know why.”
He mumbles against your neck, “I want to hear you say it.”
“It’s intimate - for me, at least.” You pause to quell the wave of embarrassment that heats your face. “It arouses me.”
“There’s my girl.” Astarion coos, pulling you tightly against him to hold you steady, “Ready?”
Astarion’s silken lips slide over your neck as he searches for the vein. He’s quick when he bites, so the sharp sting of his fangs puncturing the supple skin of your neck dulls to an icy throb promptly, and he draws liquid life leisurely in deliberate increments. Such an odd feeling, like being split in half; one part of you is corporeal while the other is a peaceful rain, drizzling and scattering through his veins as your souls intertwine, welcoming each other home. You relax into him with a sigh, and he groans against your neck blissfully.
You’re pleasantly lightheaded when you feel Astarion buck his hips, pressing his erection against your back, and he removes his fangs from you with care. His tongue flits against your skin to catch any residual blood as his thumb traces the contour of your breast.
“Delectable, as always,” he purrs near your ear, “Are you alright?”
“Yes,” you breathe huskily.
“It’s intimate for me, too,” he whispers, guiding your eyes to him gently. The scarlet pools shimmer as if made from stardust, immersing you in the cosmos, “Only with you.”
“And arousing?” You giggle, the faintness loosening your tongue.
He smirks and grinds his hard length against you, “Exceptionally. I thought that was obvious.”
You grin, “I wanted to hear you say it.”
“Lippy as well as bold tonight.” Astarion sucks on your lower lip, “I want to hear you cry my name.”
Hells. Yes. Yes, please.
He teases your nipples into peaks and sweeps the pads of his fingers against the sensitive tips, making your body twitch. Heat rushes and swells between your thighs as your heart rate climbs, seemingly skipping beats. Astarion’s fingers brush down your stomach to your hips, guiding them in little rolls against himself, and he growls low in his chest. His kiss is insistent and eager, tongue exploring your mouth with a passionate zeal that makes your core clench involuntarily.
Your ability to reason is quickly deteriorating, siphoned away as he dominates your senses. His fingers tentatively whisper over your sex, and your hips jerk up toward his hands, beseeching him for relief.
“Good Gods, you’re beautiful,” his voice husky and rich. “You’re wet.”
Be bold.
“Astarion,” you pant barely above a whisper, batting your eyelashes at him, “I’m soaked, nigh on dripping.”
“Yes, my sweet,” a corner of his mouth lifts in a smug smirk. “Look down. You have made quite a mess of my lap.”
Astarion’s fingers find your chin, and he gently directs your gaze down. Evidence of your arousal shines sleekly on his legs.
Your cheeks feel feverish, but you shore up your resolve to be brave, be you, “I’m not sorry.”
“Nor should you be. The way your body responds to me is unparalleled praise. I adore it.”
You watch as his fingers part your folds, easing the fiery heat between your legs. You sigh with a shaky breath, all your nerves humming, and your body trembles with the potency of your longing. Slipping your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck, you silently implore him to keep sinking you into serenity.
Astarion rubs languid circles around the border of your aching clit, causing your body to shudder with delight and your hips to buck viscerally, matching his movements. You stifle a moan as he rubs and sweeps his fingers against your sensitive bud, swollen with need, making you spasm, yearning to be filled. Gods, you’re a convulsing mess in his lap, writhing under his touch.
“You want to be filled by me.” Astarion growls provocatively, his chest rumbling. It’s not a question and doesn’t require an answer. He is simply stating a fact. “I want to taste your desire. May I?”
“Yes,” you whimper, a plea upon your lips.
“Can I trust you not to scream?”
Any reserve or shyness you might have had has been devoured by the untamed wildfire of lust sweeping through you, a riptide made of flame. “Probably not,” you admit as your body jerks, muscles tensing as the tension starts to coil and pool in your belly.
Astarion giggles and tosses a pillow at you with a cunning smile, “Can I at least trust you to scream into that?”
You groan as he parades light kisses down your stomach, nipping your hip gently. Astarion parts your legs, his tongue running down the sensitive skin of your inner thigh while he places it over his shoulder. His fingers glide through your folds, coating them slick with your need. Astarion moans as his tongue divides your folds, and he laps at your aching clit with long and slow strokes. Your back arches off the bed with a hasty inhale, and you bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out.
His fingers tease your entrance, and your hips angle, appealing him to take you. He sinks them in, working you open and allowing your body time to adjust until he’s knuckle-deep. He’s inside you. Gods, he’s inside you, and it’s surreal. The pressure is heavenly, and you squirm, whimpering and sputtering his name in adoration, losing your composure. Astarion groans deep and sonorant, and it vibrates your sensitive pearl. His tongue pulses in an exquisite rhythm that numbs your mind while the tips of his fingers sweep over your G-spot with every perfectly orchestrated pump. Your lewd moans and whimpers are a sinful symphony that only he can orchestrate.
As the tension builds, your fingers clutch his hair as he drives you toward your crest. “Astarion…” Your eyes close as your pleasure increases. The pitch of your voice rising higher and higher, every muscle in your body taught, “Fuck! Astarion.”
Without missing a beat, he grabs the pillow by your hip and chucks it at you. You grasp that damn pillow like it might keep you afloat in this sea of pleasure you’re downing in. His lips envelop your clit, gently sucking, and he swallows your ecstasy with a hedonistic, contralto moan that strums your sensitive flesh. His scarlet eyes open and watch, captivated by you through dark lashes. You gaze into them as your euphoria crests over the edge, and you cry his name into the pillow, shuddering and contracting around him so strongly and violently that you forget how to breathe.
Astarion holds you firmly in place as he entices every shockwave and spasm out of you, releasing you when you’re panting his name, all but begging for mercy.
“Positively mouthwatering, my love,” he coos, kissing your flushed cheek as you try to collect yourself and catch the breath he stole from you.
You sputter nonsensically in reply as Astarion lays back with a contented sigh, drawing you close and guiding your head to his chest. His fingers brush through your hair, massaging your scalp affectionately. Your eyelashes flutter as you watch his erection twitch. Gods, you long for the heady taste of him so much that it makes you salivate at the notion, and you swallow hard.
“Astarion-” You start and trail off, unsure how to pose the question or even if you should, but you want it so badly it makes your desire ignite anew.
He requested I stop being overly gentle with him. I don’t know how, but I must try.
He looks at you with a cocked brow, follows your line of sight, and laughs, “Gawking again, are you? Did no one ever teach you it’s rude to stare?”
How could I not stare? Idiot.
“I, uh,” your voice is small, unsure, and so low that it would be impossible for anyone but him to hear. “I would like to do more than gawk - if you’re interested.”
“Oh,” he props himself up, “And what exactly would you like to do?”
You give him a sultry, smouldering gaze, biting your lower lip.
Comprehension overtakes his features, and he grins boyishly handsome. “I’m interested.” Astarion purrs, smoky and sensual, “Very interested. I would like to try.”
“Stop if you need to,” you murmur, kissing his forehead.
“I will.” He nods, “You have my word.”
He shudders as you place long, drawn-out kisses down his chest and over the chiselled muscles of his stomach until you’re in position. You wait for his approving nod and glide your flat tongue up his shaft before taking him in your mouth. Astarion sucks in a sharp breath as you swirl your tongue around his swollen tip. You relish his taste, the salt of his skin, and Hells, you will drink down everything he gives you. He tenderly sweeps your hair back, holding it out of your face, and you gaze up at him through hooded, seductive eyes.
Astarion watches raptly, mouth parted in pleasure, and your heart palpates, prancing in your chest. You suck, hollowing your cheeks around his cock, and his head lolls back with a groan. “Good Gods,” he murmurs, his fingers twitching and curling into your hair.
You let him guide the pace, and he urges you on as you bob your head, lips gliding down his hard length as he encourages you to take him deeper and deeper. “That’s it,” he pants his praises, watching himself disappear into your mouth, “Just like that.”
Your clit throbs, core clenching, at the sight of him. His face is twisted in pleasure, sweat glistening on the planes of his chest as it rises and falls rapidly. All for you. It takes everything you have not to straddle him and beg him to claim you.
Hells, he’s a sight to behold.
His head falls back, he moans loudly, and Gods, you can’t help but moan repeatedly in response.
His fingers in your hair quiver, his breath hitches in his throat, and his cock twitches on your tongue. “Love,” he whimpers with a shaky pant, “Fuck. You’re going to make me come.”
His hips jerk, cock pulses, and he cries and sputters your name as he empties himself into your mouth. You swallow every last drop with unadulterated greed.
“Mouthwatering, as always, love,” you taunt him with his words and a wry grin while licking your red, swollen lips. “I think you were louder than me. You should have used the pillow.”
His chest heaves, and he laughs, “You’re something else, you know that? That was…” His mouth hangs open, and he shakes his head with a grin, “You have left me speechless, my dear. I have no words.”
You giggle, his praise making your heart flutter, “Earth-shattering? Realm-ending? Devastatingly satisfying?”
Astarion pulls you atop him and kisses you deeply while pulling the blankets up to keep you warm, “All of that and more.”
You touch his temple, “And you’re okay up here?”
“I’m much more than okay,” he beams. His fangs glint in the firelight in plain view. He does not need to hide them from you. Astarion takes your hand and kisses the tip of your finger previously held to his temple. “I’m happy.”
With the tips of his ears flushed pink, his eyes vibrant and glinting like polished rubies, and the relaxed, glowing smile on his face, your heart swells in your chest and tears well up in your eyes and slide out the corners.
His brows knit together, “Love,” his fingers sweep the unbidden tears away, “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” you cross your arms over his chest and rest your chin on your hands. “I’m just happy too.”
He closes his eyes, but he does not let himself slip. He hangs in that dreamscape between wakefulness and his trance while he listens intently to her heartbeat, a lullaby nestling in his soul. It’s only a matter of time before the nightmares that plague her impend on her rest, and when they do, he will be here to chase them away. She used to have troublesome dreams now and again, but she never used to wake up screaming. His chest tightens around his withered heart. Is it sadness, guilt or perhaps a mixture of both suffocating him?
He does not know. These are emotions he’s still not used to feeling, and he has difficulty discerning which is which. Centuries spent anesthetizing himself against everything, but loathing, disgust and anger have left him unaccustomed to little else. He’s so fragmented that he can’t even feel accurately, and sometimes, those insecurities still tell him that he should never have returned to her. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the shadows that fester in his mind.
He forces himself to drown in the oppressive ocean, trying to decipher it. Fear? Guilt? Shame? Sorrow? What in the Hells constricts his chest? What good is he to her if he cannot be sure of his feelings?
But he is sure of her, and that is enough.
Focusing on his body, he leans into that comfortable, warm weight of her draped over him, her breath a gentle summer breeze fanning his chest. He sinks into the comfort too much, and his mind wanders.
She’s coming toward him. Why? She advances slowly, but he still feels the reflex to step back. Her arms fold around him, encasing him in her warmth. He doesn’t know what to do with this kind of physical affection, so he just stands there rigid and bewildered, like a fool.
Sex – now that is a language he can speak fluently, but this, what in the Hells does he do with this?
He flexes his hands as if testing to see if they are capable of supplying this kind of intimacy. When was the last time someone hugged him, simply to hug him? Good Gods, when was the last time he hugged anyone back? His arms fold around her, slow and unsure. Is he doing it right? Is he too cold on her skin? How tight is too tight or too loose? Can she tell he has no fucking idea what he’s doing?
"You don’t have to hug me back, Astarion,” she mutters against his chest with a giggle. “Am I making you uncomfortable? Say the word, and I will stop.”
Pulling her tightly to him is the only reply he can manage. His voice will surely shake and betray his distress. She feels good in his arms like this, a surprise that shocks him more than the initial hug. He relaxes into the moment, and his mind stops its incessant whirling. She steps away too quickly. It takes everything in him not to pull her back and never let her go.
“You... you are full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Her eyes bore into him, and his words tumble out, “Honestly, I have no idea what we are doing. Or what comes next,” he adds because he cannot promise her there is anything next. He may not be capable of being with someone. He simply doesn’t know how to be anything other than the rake. He offers her his hand, desperate to touch her again, to feel the comforting heat of her skin thawing the ice in his veins and the crystals that have formed in the ventricles of his long-dead heart.
She takes his hand without hesitation, and Gods, he could swear that his heart quivered in his chest, “But I know that this? This is nice.”
“Yes, is it.” Her voice is tight, and her fingers twitch against his palm, “I need to get some rest. Goodnight, Astarion.”
"Ah, yes. Of course.” He jerks his hand away, lacing his arms behind his back with a shallow bow, “Sleep tight, my dear.”
Walking towards his tent, he turns to ask her to stay with him tonight. That is what couples do. Isn’t it? They are a couple now, aren’t they? Why does the title matter to him? He doesn’t get the chance to ask as she trots away and disappears into her tent.
He slips into his trance with an ease he has not felt in some time, especially in this cursed place with its hungry shadows and eternal darkness, but something is moving around. Eyes snapping open, he wakes quickly, his daggers poised and ready to kill. He peers around the dim camp, blinking the remainder of his meditation away, forcing his mind to focus.
His ears twitch at the sound of breathy, muffled sobs, and he sheaths his daggers. He would know her voice anywhere, and he jogs toward the sound.
Her back is turned to him as he approaches the furthest corner of camp. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, pulled tightly to her chest, and her head rests on them. Her body trembles as she fights to keep her pain muted. He’s never seen her cry before, and he’s taken aback. He had seen her bleeding out and on the verge of death, and her eyes were only ever ablaze with determination.
“Darling,” he rasps and hates how startled his voice sounds. “Are you hurt? What happened?”
She jumps at the sound of his voice. Her hands come up quickly to wipe the tears from her face, and she plasters the worst concocted smile on her face he’s ever seen.
“Oh, uh, hello. Everything is fine. I’m not hurt. I just, uh, need a moment.”
Teardrops wishing to be spilled cling to the corners of her eyes, and she chokes back her sobs. He wonders if he should leave her to her misery. If she wanted to talk to him, she surely would, right? He looks back at his tent.
No. No, that is not what a partner would do.
Sitting beside her, he pats her back awkwardly and inwardly cringes at himself, “If you do not wish to speak about whatever is the matter, I will not pry, but I am here for you. You can talk to me.”
“I should have seen it. Fuck. I should have known. If I had read the situation better, I would have been able to stop you from putting yourself through this.” Her eyelashes flutter as she looks at the shadows writhing across the sky like a pit of snakes. “I’m so sorry you felt like you had to manipulate me. I would have protected you with my life even if you didn’t sleep with me. I hope you know that. I will always protect you, Astarion.”
She’s... Hells, she’s crying because of what he said? She blames herself for his flawed notions. He almost wants to admonish her for being a martyr. What he did and how he acted is entirely on him.
“Don’t be so stupid,” he spits a little too harshly, and she balks. Shit. He is terrible at this, isn’t he? Consoling someone does not come naturally to him. “Apologies. That was crass,” he sighs. “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”
She giggles at him, and a smile slinks across his lips, “You could use more practice in this particular social skillset. That smart mouth of yours is a little too sharp sometimes.”
“I am not accustomed to this,” he admits, raising his arm in an invitation to get close. She scoots over and leans against him, “It’s new territory for me. Can you forgive me?”
“Of course, Astarion. I understand,” she chimes in that sweetly forgiving inflection. “It’s already forgotten.”
“What I did was not a reflection on your character.” He gently guides her gaze so it meets his, and he speaks only truths, “You’re incredible, and you’ve seen nothing but incredible since I dragged you to the ground with a dagger to your lovely neck.”
“You never have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?” She grips his shirt in her fist, tugging on it slightly. Behind the tears brimming in them, her eyes glow with that determination he’s used to seeing. “Never, Astarion.”
He’s astonished, and his mouth drops open. When was the last time someone never required him to do something he was uncomfortable with? He nods his understanding, and she relaxes into his arms.
“Do you want to...” he swallows hard, “do you want to rest with me tonight?”
“Oh,” she jerks slightly, and her eyes shift. “That’s not needed. Honestly, I’m fine.”
“It is what couples do, is it not?” He asks because he honestly wants to know.
“What does it matter what other couples do?” she arches a brow at him with a devious grin. “We are us, and we can do as we please.”
Us. He does like the sound of that.
“Well,” he pauses, his tongue pressed hard against the top of his mouth as if trying to taste the words, “Then it would please me immeasurably if you joined me in my tent tonight.”
“This is real,” she breathes while staring up at him with those eyes that make whatever is left of his soul mewl, “You and me, we are real, and this is what you want, right Astarion?”
“We are real,” he purrs. “I may need time to learn and adjust, but this is real, and I’ve never wanted anything so fervently in my life. Come, rest with me tonight, my love.”
“My love?” her voice trembles.
“That’s right.” It’s all he can say without truly saying it.
The sitting room fire burns brightly as you lay on the lounge with an open book on your lap, but you haven’t been able to concentrate on reading. Your mind and body are restless. Mr. Blackwell is due to return to the city soon, and Gale has already told you that word has spread about Aldous’s “mysterious” disappearance. You knew this was coming, of course. That damn bookshop was frequented by many, and the fact that it’s been closed was sure to cause a stir.
You’re still unsure of how to handle the situation. You could try to convince Mr. Blackwell that Aldous ran off, but he was already suspicious, which will hamper your silver tongue. In truth, that would likely only be putting off the inevitable. When Aldous doesn’t return and is never heard from again, the problem will arise anew. At best, it might allow you to get Astarion out of Waterdeep, but that left Gale in a precarious situation.
No. This needs to be dealt with, one way or another.
A sphere of fire revolves above your palm, a comfort to you in times of uncertainty. When you feel powerless, your mastery and control of fire is a solace you often indulge in. The sphere bursts like a firework at your mute request and becomes dozens of glowing orbs that revolve and twist above you in a spellbinding flourish.
“Well, that’s quite the spectacle,” Astarion muses, “Although you only do things like this when you’re troubled. What’s going on in that head of yours? Should I be prepared for you to bolt again?”
He knows me too well.
“I won’t bolt again,” you scoff at him, pretending to be irritated. You may be broken, but your skin is still thicker than to be bothered by his flippant taunts.
He chuckles at the feigned sourness in your voice, “Tell me what’s troubling you.”
At your command, the orbs reshape into birds made of fire that frolic around Astarion, twirling, swooping and diving whimsically. They glint in the red of his eyes, casting attractive shadows that complement the angular planes of his face. Astarion smiles, watching the captivating pageant cavorting around him before you quell it completely.
Truth. I must stop trying to hide things from him.
“Gale said Mr. Blackwell will be back soon,” you sigh, rubbing your face, “and I still don’t have a good plan. He likely knows about his son’s disappearance, and we both know where he will come looking first.”
Astarion sits, and you stretch your legs across his lap, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We will workshop the details as we go. We always have.” He cocks his head, “You have never cared for a plan much before. Showing up and causing chaos has always been more our style.”
“You know I’m fine with chaos,” you admit. “But Gale is not, and this is his home. He is well-known and respected here. I won’t tarnish his reputation. I can’t do that to him.”
Astarion nods and smirks at you playfully, “I’m guessing that means good old-fashioned murder is off the table?”
With a small laugh, you give Astarion’s shoulder a gentle shove. “No more murder, Rogue.”
“Sorceress,” he pouts, clicking his tongue at you. “You used to be much more fun.”
“When we leave Waterdeep, you may murder until your heart’s content.” A truth. You may try to spare life when you can, but you do not require Astarion to. You fell for him as he is, as he has always been, and your love is not conditional.
“I await the day we leave then,” he chuckles, “Will you come out with me tonight? I would like to take you on a date.”
You giggle, “More courting?”
“Wooing. Courting. Romancing. Pleasuring,” he smirks slyly, “There is a ball being held tonight in the glory of some deity or another.”
“The balls held here are generally for the high society and nobles.”
“Indeed. They are,” he retorts, “which means we must look the part.”
“Looking the part is only half the battle,” you muse, “The other half is convincing them to give you entry.”
“Darling, I’m almost offended.” Astarion tuts, clicking his tongue with a frown, “Do you truly forget who you’re talking to? I can get us in one way or another. I am sure of it.”
Your lips twitch up in a devious smirk, “Are we going to cause some chaos?”
“A man can dream,” He smiles brightly. “You will come, yes?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t dream of missing the chance to see you in action,” you purr. One of your favourite things has always been observing him doing what he excels at, and he adores the attention. “Do you have something to wear, or do you need me to go out and pick up something?”
“No need. I acquired something,” he winks with a wily grin. “Do you?”
“Acquired, huh? You went thieving without me, naughty boy.” You pull yourself up using his shoulder and glower at him playfully, tapping the tip of his nose softly, “You’re lucky I have something that will do nicely.”
Astarion giggles, taking your hand and using your finger to tap your nose back, “I am happy to take you thieving any night.”
“Promises. Promises. A future date, perhaps?"
“Dates where we go commit crimes?” He chuckles, kissing your forehead, “You’re far too perfect, my love. We leave at nightfall.”
Preparing in your old room, you slip into the lavish dress you thought would never wreathe your body. It was an impulsive and frivolous purchase that cost you more than any magical item, quarterstaff or robe you’ve ever bought and many times more useless.
The ivory silk sheaths your body, hugging your curves in all the right places with an off-the-shoulder neckline. Golden flames with a meticulous amount of detail are elegantly embroidered up the sides of the bodice until the flames lick across, meet in the middle and wrap around your breasts, accentuating them. Lace and silk flow over your hips and trumpet out slightly, licking the ground.
You wear a golden chocker that gives the appearance of gleaming wings wrapped around your neck and pin the delicate gold chains of the matching headpiece in the elaborate twists and curls, keeping half your hair up, leaving some to waterfall down your back in waves. Staining your lips a deep red hue, you line your eyes with black and shimmering gold and then slip into your heels.
Gods, how long has it been since I wore anything other than flat boots or sandals?
Descending the stairs, your eyes snap to Astarion. He’s chatting with Gale, wearing an exemplary raven ensemble lined in a rich, dark violet and piped in gold. How in the Hells he managed to steal something that fits him as if tailored to his body is beyond you.
Astarion turns, and his expression of utter disinterest dissolves. He bows low before offering his hand. “You look,” Astarion stutters, clearing his throat, “positively ravishing.”
“Yes.” Gale stammers, jaw slack. He recovers his poise quickly, “You look lovely, my friend.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about the surprise I see in both of your faces, but thank you,” you laugh and give them a sarcastic curtsy and take Astarion’s offered arm. “Shall we go?”
“You two have fun.” Gale smiles, his hands laced behind his back, “Please try to stay out of trouble.”
Astarion clicks his tongue with a huff, “Gods, you could not be duller if you tried, wizard.”
Arm entwined with Astarion’s, you approach the grand manor. Nobles in their regal garb flit about in a cacophony of voices as you approach the door. Several City Guards stand at the entrance of the multistory residence. You look anxiously at Astarion, and he taps your hand comfortingly.
“Name and invitation,” the guard’s husky voice drones with boredom.
Astarion answers in the choreographed intonation of manipulation you know so well, “Lord and Lady Ancunin,” he drawls confidently while handing over an invitation.
Lady Ancunin.
Your heart leaps, doing cartwheels in your chest, and Astarion’s eyes flick to yours. His lips twitch as he supresses a chuckle, and a wine-hued flush spreads across your cheeks.
The guard’s eyes flit over the invite, but his partner shakes his head while looking at some other list his fingers are clutched around, “I’m sorry, Lord Ancunin. You are not on the list.”
Astarion doesn’t flounder, “I’m positive you’re mistaken,” he accentuates commandingly, “Please check again.”
The guard looks to his comrade, who quickly flicks through sheet after sheet of paper. Your heart rate spikes, and your magic reels unprompted, palms heating.
Finally, the guards bow low, “Our sincerest apologies, Lord and Lady Ancunin. We mean no disrespect. It seems you were a late addition. Please enjoy the event.”
You enter the large foyer, its white tiles polished to a mirror-like sheen. Grand stone columns, carved with vines and flowers intricately wrapped around them, stretch to the high ceiling. The sheer size dwarfs you and makes Gale’s manor look small. A substantive fountain sculpted into the facsimile of Lliira, the joy bringer, is situated under an enormous crystal chandelier that casts rainbows athwart the room.
Who the Hells needs a fountain inside their home?
“This fountain is horrific,” you whisper to Astarion while frowning.
“Isn’t it?” He smirks, “I told you I would get us in.”
“I never had any doubt, love. Who did you steal the invitation from?”
“Who knows?” Astarion shrugs, “I did not request their name while I pilfered their pockets.”
“And getting our name on the list?”
“Our name, hm? I do rather like the sound of that, you know,” he purrs, with a dreamy and contemplative guise that makes you wonder what’s going through his head. “That was substantially more of a challenge. Perhaps I broke in last night and penned our name myself, perhaps I paid someone off, or perhaps the guards just found me too intimidating. Trade secrets I’m not about to divulge.”
You giggle. He’d planned this, and for someone who is not a planner, that fact plucks your heartstrings, “I will get those secrets out of you.”
“I wish you the best of luck with that,” he tuts, tapping your lower lip. “Your silver tongue is impressive, my dear, but it does not work on me. I know all your little tricks.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you flash him with an impish smirk. “My silver tongue seemed to work wonders on you last night.”
“Good Gods, did it ever,” he drawls with a wolfish grin. “Don’t remind me of that here, naughty girl.”
“What’s wrong, Astarion?” You taunt, letting your fingers climb his chest. “Having trouble containing your, shall we say, enthusiasm?”
“With you?” Astarion kisses your palm. “Bloody always.”
You laugh as he drags you into the rabble of the ballroom. Illusion magic is clearly at play, the ceiling obscured by whirling lights of blues, whites and yellows, frolicking between clouds. Beautiful music fills the air, hidden under the chitchat of the other patrons. A long table of assorted drinks and treats splits the ballroom, filling the air with a sweet, zesty scent.
Astarion flits about the patrons, skillfully avoiding questions that might unearth your true identities. You’re nearly as skilled a liar as he, and untruths roll smoothly off your tongue, but whenever you falter, Astarion is there to throw you a lifeline and give you an escape.
Astarion escorts you onto the dancefloor and draws you into a dancer’s embrace as the music slows. With his cheek against yours, he whispers, “Nobility is as insufferable as ever.”
“Yes, this must be nigh on one of the utmost pretentious events I have had the pleasure of crashing.” Astarion glides you across the dancefloor, your feet following his expert lead. “Yet, you fit in with them effortlessly.”
“It takes considerable effort, darling,” he lifts his arm, and you pirouette at his side. He crosses your arms about your waist so your back is against his chest, and you sway slowly, side to side, “If I had it my way, I would be picking the pockets of every sod in here.”
“Well,” you say as he spins you again, and your arms wrap around his shoulders while he dips you low with confident steps, his hand at the small of your back, “Why aren’t you? Pandemonium was always our way, was it not?”
“As much as I would adore robbing these fools blind, you and me, in this moment, feels magical, does it not?” His fingers curl into your back as he gazes into your eyes with affection so sincere and deep it swallows you whole, and he brings you upright slowly, “I’m right where I want to be."
Be with me. Hells, be with me forever.
Before you can answer and tell him you want to be his again, an unpleasant shove on your shoulder nearly sends you tripping over your feet if it were not for Astarion’s tight hold on you.
A svelte woman with her hands on her hips dressed in a silvery shimmering dress smirks at you with a haughty glower, peering down at you over an upturned nose. She looks at Astarion, and her expression softens as her eyes slither over him.
Here we go. Again.
People have been eyeing him all night, vying for his attention. It was only a matter of time before some brazen imbecile attempted to do away with you.
“Oh my! I should watch where I am going,” she croons with a hand in front of her mouth, a facade of innocence if you’ve ever seen one. “My apologies, Lord….”
“Ancunin,” Astarion concludes, not even looking at her, “It’s quite alright.”
The woman bats her eyes, “Lord Ancunin,” she muses through pouty lips, “May I apologize by offering you a dance?”
Of fucking course.
“That is not necessary,” he almost growls but keeps his intonation courteous.
“Come, Lord Ancunin.” The woman babbles in an unpleasant nasally intonation. “It’s the least I could do.”
Your palms blister, and you can’t help the scowl that deepens the shadows dimming your face. You step in front of Astarion and retort with a voice layered in piercing frost, “I believe my husband said no.”
The woman jumps when you come into her line of sight as if she had not seen you there, and you resist the urge to reach out and slap sense into her.
“Oh,” she gapes while you flay her with your eyes, “I meant no offence.”
“None taken. Enjoy the night.” Astarion bows stiffly before dragging you to an uncrowded stretch of the room. He chuckles, “Cool that twitchy palm of yours, my love.”
You scoff and turn your nose up, crossing your arms, “I will reduce her to ash if she touches you.”
“Possessive, are you?” He giggles with an avid glare, “You need not worry. I am yours and yours alone, wife. ”
Wife. Hells, I called him my husband, didn’t I?
“Call it possession if you like. You said no, and like most wealthy idiots, she heard “try harder,” and I will not stand for it,” you seethe, watching the woman behind his back, still staring at him hungrily.
“There’s a veritable ocean of flame in your eyes,” he chimes with an arched brow. “Is she still watching?”
“Yes,” you condemn bitterly. “She is about to be charred,” you vow, caught in the riptide of your envy.
He pulls you into a passionate kiss full of love and intimacy. Slipping his tongue past your lips, his hands cradle your face, and he pushes his body into your curves. You glance over his shoulder and watch the woman frown, turning away with slumped shoulders, making you smile against him.
“Well,” he soothes under his breath, fingers inching up and down your arm, “Did it work?”
“Yes,” you brim with glee. “She stopped staring, but now everyone else is.”
“Let them stare,” he waves dismissively, not a whit ruffled by the attention. “I could use a drink. Would you like one?”
“Yes, please. You pick.”
Astarion nods, kisses your temple and disappears into the rabble. Closing your eyes, you lean against the wall. Were it not for that woman, you would have asked Astarion to be yours. Perhaps it isn’t necessary. Astarion has never cared about titles, but it matters to you.
Fear stirs like poison seeping from your bones, and there’s still doubt, but it no longer holds you hostage. Broken or not, you’re ready to step away from the gallows of your heartache.
“You!” A gruff voice, cold with fury, breaks you from your ruminations, “What have you done to my son?!”
Your eyes snap open and land on Mr. Blackwell, flushed red with woebegone rage.
Shit.
Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I've loved writing since I was a child but have never been confident enough to post anything for others to read. The encouragement I've received has been positively incredible, and it's been helping me through some hard times in my life - sincerely thank you so much! :)
Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past
AO3: Crossposted
If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts
Small Notes:
- Astarion's POV seems to be well received, so expect us to switch between his POV and Tav's, which means we will learn more about what he was up to when he left from his perspective. I am excited to write this in upcoming chapters!
- Mr. Blackwell is back. Uh oh.
- I am once again thinking of giving Tav a name and changing the tags around but grappling with it since I never meant to. It's just feeling a little odd for them to be having heartfelt conversations, and Astarion never actually uses a name besides pet names. Let me know what you are thinking. I understand it would be rather jarring at this point in the story.
#astarion x tav#astarion x you#bg3 astarion#astarion x reader#astarion x mc#astarion#astarion smut#astarion ancunin#astarion romance#baldurs gate astarion#shadows of the past
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Moonlight
General Audiences | JJK Actor AU
“Who did you kiss at midnight?”
“I kissed my wife,” Toji shrugged. “I wasn’t at the New Year’s party, I was at home.”
“Oh, there was a party?”
“How do you think everyone ended up knowing everyone else’s business?” he snorted. “Especially Megumi’s. That poor kid…”
“Everyone keeps mentioning Megumi’s kiss! Do you know who it was?”
“Oh, no, it’s not something I’d ask,” Toji backtracked. “Like I say, I was at home with my wife. I’m really too old to be on this set, I’m probably the oldest by like ten years.”
“Really? How old is Mr Gojo?”
“God, I don’t know. He isn’t thirty yet.”
“And no-one except you is married, is that right?”
“I’ve never asked, but I don’t think anyone else wears a wedding ring,” Toji agreed. “Makes New Year’s all the more fun, eh?”
OR: the cast answer the question: “Who did you kiss at midnight?”
“Who did you kiss at midnight?”
AUTHOR'S NOTE: mechamaru's real name is Kokichi Muta.
“I was under the table eating grapes,” Nobara confessed. “And to be honest, I don’t think it’s worked. I’m still as single as ever, a whole week in.”
“Do you think that’ll change?” the interviewer asked. Nobara laughed.
“Listen, if people don’t want all this-“ she gestured to herself – “then what can we do? They’ll just have to suffer their lonely, empty lives. I’m not suffering, I already have myself.”
“So it’s just a bit of fun?”
“Yeah, I don’t really take these superstitions seriously-“
“-And that’s why she was genuinely distraught that it didn’t work,” Megumi interrupted, handing Nobara a scrunchie.
“Distraught?! I wasn’t distraught!”
“Tie your hair up, you’ve got a fake wound to put on. And yes you were, you were clinging to poor Satoru for dear life. His Versace shirt got wet, and he had to throw it away.”
“Why did he throw away a perfectly good shirt just because it was wet?” Nobara asked, distracted.
“He’s just like that. Are you gonna tie your hair up? We have places to be.”
“But I was talking to the interview lady!”
“No, no, it’s alright,” the interviewer assured them. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Hmph.” Nobara dragged as much hair as she could into a ponytail at the base of her skull, and then grabbed Megumi’s arm. “Let’s go then. You’ve probably got fake blood to be dripped on you. You’ve always got fake blood to be dripped on you.”
-
-
“What’s this obsession with kissing people? I think I was with Yu at midnight,” Nanami said, looking thoughtful.
“As in, Yu Haibara?” the interviewer clarified.
“Yeah. I guess it’s confusing, having both Yuji and Yu on set at the same time. And Yuta’s meant to be here soon… Anyway, I’m pretty sure we were watching the countdown – he was talking about otters, I think…?”
-
-
“I kissed my beautiful girlfriend,” Shoko smiled. “It’s going to be a good year this year!”
-
-
“It’s a secret,” Gojo winked.
“Does that mean you didn’t kiss anyone?” asked the interviewer cheekily.
Gojo laughed. “You can think whatever you want, honey. I just know I’m not ready to tell the world who I kissed.”
-
-
“I kissed Miwa!” Kokichi grinned, arm slung around his girlfriend.
She giggled. “Here’s to another year!”
-
-
“Why, are you volunteering?” Toge asked, eyebrow raised.
The interviewer gawped. “What?”
Toge cackled.
“He’s kidding,” Yuta sighed. “I think.”
“I’m kidding,” Toge agreed, wiping a tear from his eye. “I am completely single and not looking to change that, thank you so much.”
“So you didn’t kiss anyone at midnight?” the interviewer checked.
“Not a soul. Would’ve smudged my face paint,” Toge confirmed. “I don’t think many people kissed, but Nobara was definitely eating grapes under the table, so maybe that’ll be different next year.”
“Kokichi did,” Yuta mused.
“He literally has a whole girlfriend, of course he did.”
“Megumi did.”
“Megumi di- MEGUMI DID?!” Toge turned to look Yuta full in the face, horrified. “WHO DID HE KISS?”
“If he hasn’t told you, that means he didn’t want to know,” Yuta shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. “I probably shouldn’t have told you.”
“If I find out he’s been hiding this on purpose, the little shit-“
“Please mind your language on camera,” the interviewer chided gently.
“My bad. I’m just gonna- gonna go see Megumi for a minute.” Toge swivelled his head around the room, eyeing everyone beadily.
“He’s in the break room,” Yuta said helpfully, and then realised what he’d said. “Whoops.”
“Thanks, Yuta. I knew I could count on you.” With a pat to Yuta’s shoulder, Toge stalked off, looking furious.
Yuta turned back to the camera. “They grew up together,” he explained.
“Did you kiss anyone at midnight, Mr Okkotsu?” the interviewer enquired, clearly desperate to get the interview back on track.
“Who, me?” Yuta rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh…”
“He actually turned down a kiss, can you believe it?!” another voice called, off camera. The camera turned to reveal Maki, still in costume, huge spear over her shoulder. “Oh, not from me,” she added, probably spotting a look on the interviewer’s face. “From one of the costume girls. She was really cute, too…”
“You’re not getting many juicy stories, are you?” Yuta asked sympathetically. “Hmm, who would have a good story…?”
“Where’s Toge? He’d know,” Maki pointed out.
“Just gone to hunt out Megumi.”
“About New Year’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Which idiot told him?!”
“That would be me…” Yuta’s ears turned red at the tips. “In my defence, I thought Megumi would’ve told him!”
“So the good story is Megumi’s, then?” the interviewer asked.
Yuta and Maki looked at each other. “Try someone else first,” Yuta hedged. “Oh look, there’s Toji!”
-
-
“I kissed my wife,” Toji shrugged. “I wasn’t at the New Year’s party, I was at home.”
“Oh, there was a party?”
“How do you think everyone ended up knowing everyone else’s business?” he snorted. “Especially Megumi’s. That poor kid…”
“Everyone keeps mentioning Megumi’s kiss! Do you know who it was?”
“Oh, no, it’s not something I’d ask,” Toji backtracked. “Like I say, I was at home with my wife. I’m really too old to be on this set, I’m probably the oldest by like ten years.”
“Really? How old is Mr Gojo?”
“God, I don’t know. He isn’t thirty yet.”
“And no-one except you is married, is that right?”
“I’ve never asked, but I don’t think anyone else wears a wedding ring,” Toji agreed. “Makes New Year’s all the more fun, eh?”
-
-
Yuji turned bright red. “I, uh – I probably need to discuss with them before I tell you anything.”
“Oh, I see. Was it one of your fellow cast members?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Don’t worry, you haven’t given us any clues – loads of them are near your age!”
He laughed nervously. “That’s true enough. Someone else might have a better story. I don’t know who’s on set today? It’s definitely Yuta’s day, but his story is boring – did you know he turned down five offers and spent the countdown trying to catch olives in his mouth that Toge was throwing? I don’t know if-“
“You’re rambling,” said Nobara, from her spot on the floor behind. “And it was the other way around. Toge was catching the olives.”
“Oh, of course. Yuta doesn’t even like olives. Anyway-“
“I think Geto’s next door,” Nobara offered. “He definitely kissed someone at midnight.”
-
-
“Oh, I did kiss someone, I’m just not saying who,” Geto laughed. “It was someone famous.”
“One of your cast mates?”
“Mhm. Really, though, there’s loads of them, so that’s not any more information than you started with.”
“Can you give us a clue?”
“Absolutely not. They’d sue me.”
“You’re quite open about your sexuality; was it a man?”
“Absolutely it was a man! But again, there’s only one or two women in this cast, so that doesn’t really help much.”
“You should probably bear in mind we’re asking everyone on set today who they kissed at midnight.”
“And if he’s not on set today?”
“Well, there is that…”
“I wouldn’t really mind if you did find out, I’m not quite on that level of fame yet. It wouldn’t affect me much, since I’m not an idol anymore. It might kill him, though – not his career! He just might die of embarrassment.”
“In that case, we’ll leave you! I’m sure the fans will find out sooner or later.”
“They do have some scary powers,” Geto agreed. “Why don’t you find Megumi? He kissed someone, I think.”
-
-
Eventually, the cameras found Megumi and Yuji whispering in a corner together. When the interviewer waved at them, Yuji’s eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. He started whispering furiously to Megumi; the interviewer respectfully kept the microphone away until they’d finished.
“Mr Itadori has already answered this question,” she began.
“Oh, I heard,” Megumi nodded. Yuji winced.
“Oh, um – is this a bad time, then?” the interviewer hesistated.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Megumi shrugged. “I think we’ve come to our conclusion.”
“Wonderful!” the interviewer smiled, clearly extremely confused. “In that case, who did you kiss at midnight, Mr Fushiguro? Did you kiss anyone at all?”
“I did kiss someone. I kissed Yuji.”
Silence.
“Okay, I know I said you could say it, but that sounded really awkward-“
“Shut up, Yuji, I think she’s gone into shock.” Megumi put his hands on the interviewer’s shoulders, trying to get a sense of her breathing rate without getting too close.
“Oh my god. Try to reassure her while I find a first aid person,” Yuji said, before thinking better of it. “Wait, no. I’ll reassure her, you find a first aid person.”
Megumi rolled his eyes, but speed-walked off to find someone to help. Meanwhile, Yuji calmly reassured the interviewer that everything was fine, nothing had gone wrong, everything would be okay.
Neither of them were entirely sure why exactly she was so shocked.
-
-
“-So basically, she expected me to say Mai or something,” Megumi shrugged. “I think. I don’t think anyone’s really sure, but it was the surprise that got her. She’s not homophobic or anything.”
Next to him, the interviewer smiled. “Absolutely not! I think it’s lovely that you two have gotten so close over your time on set. I hope we see more moments in season two!”
Yuji thought about this. “I mean, I guess there is? Mainly, season two is-“
“THAT’S WHERE YOU ARE!” someone yelled. There was a loud crash, and the door burst open; Toge, hair released from its gel-inflicted helmet, face paint smudged into a blue beard, careened into the room and skidded to a stop just behind Megumi. “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU’D KISSED-“
“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Megumi pointed out. “Can you leave?”
“I’M SO BETRAYED RIGHT NOW,” Toge continued, steamrolling right over Megumi. “AND YOU KISSED YUJI? TALL-WOMAN-WITH-A-BIG-ASS YUJI??”
“Megumi’s tall! Ish,” Yuji defended, making Toge jump.
“My bad, bro,” he said. “I didn’t realise you were here.”
“Clearly,” Megumi huffed.
“Does Satoru know about this?”
“…No….”
“You told the internet before you told Satoru??”
“We were gonna tell him before this came out!”
“Oh my god, he is gonna kill you,” Toge said gleefully.
“Who’s gonna kill who?” someone else asked. A mop of white hair peeked round the door. “Are we still doing interviews right now?”
“Uh oh,” said Yuji.
“Uh oh,” Toge agreed, grinning madly.
Megumi stared at the sunglasses slowly making their way around the doorframe. “I’m gonna have to tell him now, aren’t I.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what?” asked Gojo, stepping fully into the room. “It can’t be that bad. Like, what ridiculous thing could you possibly tell me?”
“Maybe that he kissed Yuji?!” Toge interrupted before Megumi could even open his mouth.
“Thanks, man,” Megumi said sarcastically.
“Is that true?” Gojo asked, still calm.
“…Yes.”
There was a long pause.
Gojo opened his mouth, then closed it again. He stared closely at Megumi, who stared back. Then he stared closely at Yuji, who looked more and more terrified by the minute.
Eventually, Gojo decided to break the tense silence.
“If you get pregnant, I’m not financing it.”
“WHAT?!”
A03 | Exclusives | Tip Me | Commissions
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fics#satoru gojo#fushiguro megumi#itafushi#itadori yuji#okkotsu yuta#mechamaru#inumaki toge#maki zenin#geto suguru#shoko ieri#jjk actor au
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STREET RACER! HOBIE x STREET RACER! READER
warnings : illegal street racing, gambling, cursing, suggestive
notes : this one's not that much focused on street racing anymore. im so very normal about him, cant you tell?
part 1 ☆ part 2
first off, street racer hobart brown is a menace. did i mention that or was i too busy gushing about him last time?
street racer hobie loves getting a reaction out of you, commenting on things he knows would rile you up. and he can read you absurdly easily
street racer hobie and you make seperate bets aside from the main one. like if you win, he does whatever you tell him and if he wins, you do whatever he tells you. and if neither of you win, its a draw and its boring so either of you have to win
if you won, you'd probably ask him to let you drive his car around for a week or so. and if he won,, well...
"What?" you ask, though it was more of a rhetorical question, if anything. You heard him loud and clear, you just couldn't believe it.
He had his distinct smug grin on his face as he takes steady steps backward to his car. "'Said I'll pick you up at 8. Wear somethin' nice and casual, yeah?" he says with his back finally against his restored vintage on wheels, smirking at your heated face.
You swallowed a lump in your throat and opened your mouth, your words delaying by a bit. "You're not gonna stick around for my answer?"
"Won the bet, didn't I? It's set in stone," he muses, switfly entering his car. "Later."
he took you to a gwen stacy concert (gwen is a referred to as "maybe the most influental musician – the greates artist – of our generation" in earth-138) and you both had a great time
pretty obvious when you woke up that morning in your apartment and in the comfort of his arms
it was another date, then a third and a fourth then the next until you both just couldn't stay away from one another anymore
you know how in wwe, fights are rehearsed and they don't act the same behind the camera? it's half something like that. your races are genuine but your behavior with each other isn't
all hostile and aggressive near crowds and never ending insults and mockery from both sides. none of the audiences knew how much street racer hobie loved eating your face behind the curtains
"Hob–" you manage to gasp out between kisses. Your was hand clutched on his vest as his hand behind your head deepens the kiss. A surprised moan escapes past your lips when you feel his knee between your thighs.
You start to become more light-headed. He starts trailing the kisses down to your neck and you reward him with a few soft mewls.
"H-Hobie, we're late. Stop." You try to push him away, your hands on his shoulders but he intertwines them with his' and pins them against the wall.
His lips return to yours' once again, exhaling contently before he departs. "I don't think you want me to stop either, love," he whispers, pressing his forehead against yours. You slowly open your eyes to see him smiling.
It wasn't his usual smile — there wasn't an ounce of teasing in it. It was gentle with affection and intimacy. You sigh and plant a short kiss on his. "Wouldn't they be suspicious if we bailed at the same time?"
"Would you care if they did?" he asks, moving your hands to rest around his neck as he puts his' around your waist, pulling you both unbelievably closer. You consider it and give him a small peck before shaking your head. "That's my girl."
#atsv hobie#hobie#hobie brown#hobie brown x reader#hobie x reader#spider punk#spider man: across the spider verse#across the spiderverse#spider punk x reader#hobie fluff#hobie x you#hobie brown x you#hobie atsv#hobie brown atsv#atsv hobie brown#spider punk x you
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Two Cat People In The Same Room. (III)
Part lll —> (Part ll here)
Chishiya Shuntaro x Reader x Banda Sunato
Description: Apparently raiding the department stores was everyone’s first instinct after the king of spades scare at Shibuya Cross. Now you’re stuck with only a cat hoodie over your inconvenient swimwear from the beach, and two unconventional cat lovers in a game of betrayal.
Word count: 1581
Tags: Gender-neutral reader, general audiences, canon divergence, fluff, canon typical character behavior and description of violence, Chishiya and Banda side-eyeing each other, can be platonic or romantic.
——————————————————————
“Heart.”
You said out loud to nothing in particular inside your cell.
Seconds pass, and of course, your collar didn’t explode, it was just like Chishiya and Ippei told you.
And Banda too..you suppose. He didn’t have to do that though, your partnership with Chishiya and Ippei was pretty obvious, you didn’t necessarily need his help.
It was also a little creepy for him to follow you, whether with his eyes or like when he chased you down the hall.
But…In his defense, Banda was nice to step in for the guy getting kicked by the bully while you were too scared to intervene, so maybe you just misunderstood him. And it wasn’t like he outright did anything to hurt you, perhaps he was just a little awkward and didn’t get social cues.
Which is relatable to a certain degree.
As you thought about your strange encounter with Banda, someone banged on the door of your cell a few times, alerting you.
“Are you just going to keep standing there?”
Chishiya could be seen through the little tiny barred windows.
“O-oh, I'm coming.”
You reached out to unlock the door, and as you did, the man could be heard letting out a sigh. You wanted to question him, but stepping out, you quickly noticed a commotion down the hallway.
A couple of players from the blue dress girl’s group stood in front of a cell, panicking about something as she stood there twirling her hair.
“What happened?”
Chishiya looks at you with hands in his pocket, shrugging.
“That tall bully probably died.”
Your eyes widen, both at how casual he sounded and at the news that someone actually died, which can only mean they failed to guess their suit. You thought that the timid guy had told the bully the answer to be left alone, what happened to that?
“Did you not hear the bang when you were in your cell?”
You shook your head no, suddenly feeling uncomfortable from the thin layer of sweat covering your skin.
“Tha..That can’t be, I didn-”
“GUYS! WHAT WAS THAT NOISE?”
Ippei rushed towards the two of you from what you assumed was upstairs.
“Ippei?”
He caught his breath, then looked past you to the group murmuring among themselves.
“What happened?”
Chishiya’s lips twitch, probably thinking something along the lines of ‘not again.’ He shook his head and ended up brushing past you, heading towards the opposite direction where the other players stood.
“Thanks to a certain instigator, the ball’s finally rolling.”
Confused, you glance at Ippei who seemed equally clueless. You looked back at Chishtiya walking off, and gestured that you were going to catch up to him.
The white-haired man felt a tap on his shoulder.
You wanted to ask, but Chishiya always had an air that made it difficult for you to question him. He possessed such an underlying intensity in his eyes that you often blank out when given his whole attention.
“Need something?”
A small grin grew on Chishiya’s face at noticing your reluctance, and he still wore that stupid, teasing tone.
“What do you mean by that?”
You didn’t understand what he meant by an ‘instigator’, perhaps the jack of hearts had made their move?
“It means, try not to chase the ball, kitty cat.”
Chishiya gives you a small pat on the head, walking off.
.
.
.
You resist the urge to roll your eyes when he was out of view, what did Chishiya take you for?
“I miss having normal company..”
——————————————————————
In the cafeteria, you can almost sense the unresolved tension between members of the biggest group. They were all whispering among themselves, but what invaded your mind the most was the obnoxious crunching of Urumi’s strawberry pockey. It only reminded you of how hungry you were, but every time you entertained the thought of eating something, you wanted to throw up.
They didn’t even have proper food! It was all packaged and mostly snacks.
“You’re restless and you need energy. You should eat something since we won't be getting any sleep.”
Chishiya slides a packet of cookies across the table.
“I don’t want your dry biscuits..”
You slide the cookies to Ippei next to you.
“Oh, thank you.”
Ippei smiled and accepted them, opening the cookies. He took a bite, and his face lit up.
“They’re good?”
He nods, offering you some again but you shake your head. They don’t look exactly the most appetizing currently, so Ippei can have them.
A small scoff escapes your ears.
Across the table, Chishiya watched Ippei with an unreadable expression.
Watch Ippei eat the cookies he gave to you.
“I’ll go see if they have something else.”
You got up from the table with Chishiya’s lingering stare on your back, going to scavenge the shelves that were stocked with all types of junk food, from potato chips to gummy candies.
“Hmm..”
Nothing really piqued your interest so you moved to the next aisle, deeper into the storage area.
.
.
A rustling noise could be heard around the corner, and you instinctively turned, suddenly seeing someone crouching in the shadows behind a few boxes.
“AH-”
Startled, you couldn’t scream before the figure pulled you down into the shadows with them, hand clasped around your mouth.
“Shh.”
“L-mrgh go!”
You tried to pull away from the stranger, but they ended up tightening their hold, forcing you into a position facing outwards.
“Mmf?”
From the corner where you were both huddled, it provided a clear view into one of the aisles without exposing yourselves.
“You need to be quiet..or else Matsushita would hear us.” They whispered.
Matsushita?
You see a man who looked to be lingering around the shelves, staring in the direction where the cafeteria tables were.
By now, the big group had left, and the only ones sitting were Ippei and the women dressed in business casual.
Wait, then where was Chishiya?
Somebody stepped in your peripheral vision.
“There you a-”
Chishiya gets pulled behind the boxes by his arm, and he stumbles a bit before falling right on top of you. You let out a small noise that was muffled by the unknown person’s hand, and even Chishiya appears to be flustered for less than a second before furrowing his brows.
“What are you doing here with Banda?”
He said with a hushed tone, understanding to be quiet.
“Mm-anda?!”
The man behind seemed to breathe even closer down your neck at that statement.
“Don't act so surprised when you interrupted me first.” Banda muttered into your ear.
Chishiya looks to you for an explanation, but you thought that even if Banda frees your mouth, you wouldn’t get anything comprehensive out from how jittery you felt at the moment.
You avoided his catlike eyes in shame, as if you really had been caught doing something wrong.
You couldn’t help it, Chishiya was on top of you, close enough that you could smell that distinct sea breeze shampoo provided by the beach hotel. You wanted to sigh at the familiar fragrance, but Banda’s large hand still muffled your voice, his chest pressing against your back, radiating body heat.
“Mmph..”
You were quite literally sandwiched between the two, finding it harder and harder to breathe with the overwhelming feelings.
“You still haven’t answered my question.”
Chishiya pressed further, causing a grin to grow on Banda’s face.
“I was watching Matsushita.” He answered lowly.
It didn’t necessarily explain why you of all people ended up there, and you hope to god Chishiya would drop it instead of embarrassing you further.
The white haired clicked his tongue, snarkily replying.
“Where I’m from, that's called stalking.”
Tiny tears formed in your eyes, if Banda didn’t let go, right now, you were afraid you'd suffocate.
“Then that’ll make the kitty cat a stalker too.”
“Oho? Seems like this kitty cat attracts a lot of bad, bad, men.”
You were going to kill Chishiya after this. If he has no problem provoking Banda, then so be it.
“L-LET! GO!”
You tried your best to bite the skin of Banda’s palm, effectively startling him into releasing you. You took the chance to then push Chishiya off, forcing him to fall backwards and knock over the empty boxes that previously concealed your hiding place.
However, the amount of force you used also threw off your balance, and you plopped right on top of Chishiya.
“H-Huh?”
You rubbed your head, glancing up to see emo guy- Matsushita, giving you a judgemental look.
“Oh, uhhm..”
You couldn’t find the proper words to explain yourself, stuttering until someone grabbed your wrist.
“Not that I mind..but can you get off of me first?”
Realizing your awkward position, you scrambled off of Chishiya as he chuckled, dusting off his jacket.
“Matsushita, oh, um, we were just..”
Banda didn’t see any point in hiding anymore, getting up from the ground and walking over.
This must look so, so weird from a stranger’s point of view. You wanted to be freed from the situation already and run to the only normal person in this place,Ippei, for comfort.
With the most unbothered expression, Banda addressed his partner calmly.
“Thanks for interrupting, Matsushita.”
Matsushita looked from Banda to you, then to Chishiya. He looked visibly uneasy, and a pink flush grew across your face as you tried to deny it by waving your hands.
“This isn’t what it looks-”
Chishiya dramatically sighed, and pretended to be disappointed with the fakest frown you’ve ever laid your eyes on.
“Just stop, he already knows~”
You drop both your arms, even more horrified than previously as your jaw opens and closes before yelling,
“CHISHIYA!”
~AN: Thank you for reading and all of the support! I hope you enjoyed part three, and point any spelling mistakes please! :D~
Tags:@micheshiree @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @laivi @kokxm1 @huachengsbestie01 @bxcndd
^lmk if you want to be added, and if I forgot anyone.
#chishiya shuntaro#chishiya shuntarou#chishiya#banda sunato#sunato banda#chishiya shuntaro x reader#banda sunato x reader#aib s2#shuntaro chishiya#chishiya x reader#banda x reader
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So I Heard A Rumor...
Synopsis: You promised Kaeya drinks, he promised to be your wingman so you can finally ask his brother, Diluc, on a date. However your plan comes crashing when rumor comes out that you would be buying drinks for all the knights. You also just can't seem to get rid of this bard who keeps singing songs to you. Will you achieve your chance to ask your dream man out? Let's find out.
CW: ALCOHOL, OTHER THAN DILUC NO ONE IS GOING TO BE SOBER, minor swearing, Venti is a bit clingy too
HC: Reader is gender-neutral, Reader does not have a vision, Reader works as a knight, Reader is very clearly in love with Diluc (lol)
Characters: Diluc, Kaeya, Venti, Jean, Mentions of Favonious knights and Traveller (Honorary Knight)
Note: Going to apologise in advance because I have no idea how alcohol works as I am not a drinker and don't plan to. I clown on Diluc a lot because my friend is obsessed with him however funnily enough he is the character I have the most ideas with. I'm talking angst, fluff, comfort, everything. Anyway enjoy this cringe fest! Please make sure to like, comment or reblog the post. It helps it reach a wider audience and motivates me to write more silly stuff like this. Enjoy!
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The current situation was far from ideal. Tonight was supposed to be the night you finally dared to ask Diluc out on a date. However, right now you were surrounded by drunken knights who wouldn’t stop singing along with an even more drunk bard who had his whole body wrapped around you. You could see Diluc seething at the bar, his fist clenched on the glass so tight you were certain it would break any minute now.
Backtracking to how you have ended up in this situation, it all started because of a rumour. Whispers among the crowd saying Donna was going to make her move soon. You couldn’t allow this, you had loved Diluc since his days as a knight! Sure you never dared to confess this entire time but Donna barely had any history with this man compared to you! She had a long way to go to get to your level. However, it didn’t help that Diluc was a bachelor and a perfect one at that. Even if Donna did or didn’t make her move, someone else might snatch him up sooner or later. It didn’t help that the honorary knight seemed to have become close to him as well. You need to act fast.
So you made a deal with Kaeya, if anyone was going to help you it had to be him. When you first told him about your crush he burst out laughing, before realising you were serious.
“Wait shit for real?” He asked, dumbfounded. You nod, trying not to be embarrassed. He stared at you like you had just said the most unbelievable thing. In Kaeya’s defence, you did say the most outrageous thing imaginable. He knew Diluc was considered a hot target in the single’s market, but for you to also fall for his charms? A shocking revelation.
“Are you going to help me or not?” You ask, now impatient. You didn’t have time to let him make fun of you for liking his brother, someone could be seducing him right now! Kaeya blinked at you in disbelief. However, his face soon shifted to a shit-eating grin. You groaned, instantly regretting your decision. “If you’re not then I’m going to ask someone else ok?!” You exclaim, annoyed and try your best not to give him more reason to make fun of you.
“Nah nah! You came to the right place! I’ll help, I'm an amazing wingman!” He laughed. You shushed him, you didn’t want anyone else to know about this and Kaeya tried his best to hold in his laughter but chuckles and giggles could not stop escaping this man. “Just buy me a couple of drinks and I’ll make sure you both end up in bed together by the end of the night!” He teased, which only made you groan.
That was the plan, you buy him drinks and he would help you look good enough for Diluc to swoon over you. However, for some reason, word got out and suddenly the whole knight team was out and about ready to get drinks from you.
“Wow, aren't you generous? Paying for the knights to drink as much as they want!” Swan chuckled. You didn’t know how it ended up like this, even Kaeya shrugged at you confused. Somehow word got out that you would be paying for ALL the knights to drink until they passed out. It had gotten so big that even Jean decided to join in.
“Well, the knights barely have time to come together and have fun, so I couldn’t miss this.” She smiled at you and that stopped you from calling the whole thing off because there was no way you could say no to Jean.
So now here you were, at Angel Share, drunk knights singing and playing games at the bar. You chugged down on a bottle of wine, feeling like absolute shit. Not only were you going to have to pay for all this but right now you were the worst offender in Diluc’s eyes. Dragging all the knights here and ruining his shift. All you wanted to do was confess but instead, you ended up creating the worst environment for any love to happen.
Finally the damn bard on your lap. You don’t know how he got into this but he was drinking off your tab as well. He was so grateful for your generosity that he decided the best way to show it was by singing tunes dedicated to you while sitting on your lap. He had one arm wrapped over your neck, which strummed the lyre in his hands. He was wrapped around you like spaghetti on a fork. It didn’t help that Diluc could see this man sit on your lap while singing tunes about how wonderful you were.
So right now in Diluc’s eyes, you were, a drunk who wastes their money on alcohol, loves to bring chaos to environments, and also a flirt who has no shame in doing PDA with strangers. The least ideal person to date. You avoided any eye contact with Diluc, you could not face him at this point. You turned to look at Kaeya who was completely out of it. He had drunk so much that he was pretty much passed out just a couple of minutes ago.
‘So much for being a wingman…’ you thought, but honestly speaking in this situation, if Kaeya spoke up it would have probably ended up worse. You looked at the time, seeing how it was almost 12. The bar was set to close soon and Diluc would begin to kick out the knights. Finally, this terror would end and you could go back to your house to cry yourself to sleep. You were smart enough to call the next day off. you hoped whoever spread the rumour had a terrible hangover tomorrow while working the next day. They deserved it.
As you continued to curse the people who spread these twisted rumours, the bard decided to speak up after chugging down another glass. “You seem down my friend! Another song will cheer you up!” He laughed, stringing his lyre once more ready for another song. Cheers of knights could be heard across the bar, hyping him up for another. You sighed, placing a hand on the lyre and putting it down. “No no, I think we had enough songs for tonight. Let’s end the night guys.” You say, trying to stand up while carrying the bard bridal style.
As you tried to stand up, the bard whined trying to shake you off. You underestimating how drunk you were couldn’t carry his weight anymore, especially when he was moving around. You tried to steady yourself but the bard would not stop squirming leading you to slip and fall down. Making sure the bard didn’t hit the floor, and get hurt you shifted your body so you would land on the ground instead, your back hitting flat on the floor while the bard fell on top of you to soften his fall.
The bard whined, resting his head on your chest while you had your grip him to make sure he didn’t get hurt during the fall. The crack of glass could be heard in an instance. Everyone turned towards the sound to see that Diluc had in fact, shattered the glass he was cleaning the entire night.
“Out.” He said. The aura in the tavern immediately turned grim. Knights anxiously made their way out the door, saying their goodbyes to you. Jean carried Kaeya on her back, giving you a weak drunk smile before heading out as well. The bard clearly didn't get the clue as he had passed out on top of you.
Diluc was mad and it was all your fault. You could feel the tears come out. It especially didn’t help that you were drunk out of your mind, unable to hold back your emotions. You gently pushed the bard off you, trying to stand up. At this point, the only people left were you, Diluc, and the passed-out bard.
You mumble sorry, trying to get up while tears continue to flow down your face. Unable to see clearly made it a bit of a struggle to get up, it also prevented you from noticing Diluc who had somehow made his way to you. You jolted up, almost falling over once more, but he caught you before another slip occurred. His arm wrapped your waist gently, steadying you up. You could feel yourself heat up.
“You have to be careful. Here.” He mumbled, guiding you to sit down. You were shocked he had not kicked you out honestly. You looked at him teary-eyed as he pulled out a handkerchief from his apron, dapping your tears away.
“You can sit here and wait until I close. I’ll drop you off afterward. “ He exclaimed, placing the cloth in your hands. “Oh no you don’t have to, I need to drop off the bard home first.” You say, your hands gripping on the cloth ever so tightly. You didn’t dare to stay with Diluc, especially after how terrible the night went. You wanted to leave as soon as possible but the minute you mentioned the bard you could see Diluc halt.
His gaze turned cold as he glared at the unconscious bard on the floor. He walked towards him, picking the bard up from the scruff of his clothes and heading towards the door. He tossed the bard out like trash before dusting his hands off. “Venti can figure out his way to get home. You're unsteady and drunk, so I’m taking you home myself.” You had no escape now. Muttering an ok, you put your head down trying to feel as small as you could.
Were you such a mess that Diluc didn’t think you were capable enough to get home? You were still a knight! Sure you weren’t an honorary knight but you were one, and a decent one at that. You could feel your thoughts spiral but it always leads to the same conclusion. Diluc would never like you back and probably felt pity for you.
You didn’t know how long you were lost in your thoughts, before Diluc spoke up. “I’m done, let’s get going.” He said. You try to answer but the alcohol finally seems to be in your system because you couldn't force yourself to say coherent words. You groan which only made Diluc sigh.
He lifted you from your seat, making you wrap your arm around his neck. He wrapped his arm around your waist once more and held onto your arm with his hand. You immediately could feel the heat from his body. You were already sweating because of the alcohol but now with his heat on your side, you could almost feel your skin burn. You whine, trying to push him away a bit but his grip on you was firm. You look him directly in the eyes. Big mistake.
He had the same poker face he usually had but for some reason, stars were dancing in his eyes tonight. Was he always this beautiful? You weren’t sure if the alcohol was playing tricks on your mind because you couldn’t believe how stunning this man looked. Looking carefully at his face you could see light scars scattered around his jaw. His cheeks were decorated with slight freckles. You couldn't believe how close you were to even notice them.
You weren’t sure what came over you but it was too late to stop the words from spilling out of your mouth. “I’m in love with you.” You stared at him before suddenly realising what you had just said. You can’t believe you had just said that. You wanted to take it back, your brain was wrecking up on excuses to say to him.
‘It’s a joke’ or ‘I didn’t mean to say that’ or even an ‘I meant it for someone else’. Your brain kept thinking of various things you could say but nothing would spill out. So here you were mouth gaping open, begging yourself to say something.
Diluc sighed, and you could feel your heart shatter. “Let’s take you home.” You didn’t argue, letting him drag you back to your house. You could feel yourself fall asleep on the way. You gave up in defeat. At least you were off the next day, you would be able to drown in your sorrows tomorrow.
As you tried to comfort yourself, you felt yourself drift off asleep. You could hear Diluc speak but the words wouldn’t register, you needed to escape from him for a bit.
—
You woke up on your bed, you turned to look out the window to see that it was still clearly night. You groan, sitting up on your bed. Your room was dark but you could see a light peeking under the door of your room, the living room light was still on. You groggily walk out of the room to turn it off, only to see Diluc outside. He was in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets.
You look at him in disbelief while he turns to face you. “You ok? It’s too late to buy hangover medicine so I wanted to see if you had any stocked up.” You try to speak, only to be stopped by a cough. Your throat felt so dry, you couldn’t say a word. “Oh, drink this.” Diluc handed you a glass of water, which you chugged down in an instant.
“I was going to hand it to you with the medicine but never mind. You should go rest, I’ll leave soon.” He said, continuing his search in your cupboard. You shook your head. “You can just leave, it’s fine, I can take care of myself.” You wanted him gone as soon as possible. As domestic as it felt having him in your house taking care of you, this man rejected your confession and you didn’t have the strength to handle it at this moment.
You had a splitting headache and a broken heart and Diluc being here was not going to fix that. Diluc halted, stopping his search, you could see a frown on his face as he closed the drawers before turning to you. “Can I ask you something?” He asked, ever so quietly. He was always a silent type of guy, but even this time you could hear how vulnerable he was. The way he asked you in such a soft way made you instantly answer him without a second thought. “Go ahead.” You wanted to hit yourself, you wish you didn’t have such a soft spot for him.
“I heard a rumour, going around…” he continued. He played with his hands, fiddling them about as if he was feeling shy. You cringed at the thought, why would Diluc of all people feel shy? You were just being delusional at this point. As you contemplated your thoughts he continued. “People were saying you invited the knights out for drinks because you got engaged, is that true?”
The cup you had in your hands dropped to the ground. You were glad it wasn’t glass because it would have shattered in an instant, and you had seen enough things shatter today. However, you honestly could not believe the words that had just come out of Diluc’s mouth. “Wait what? Are you serious?” You ask, completely thinking this was a prank. “Why would you think that? Who would even say that?” Who was spreading these rumours around? You were going to kill them.
“So it’s false?” “Of course it’s false! I’m not even dating anyone!” You exclaim, now wondering whether your confession was rejected because Diluc thought you were cheating on your nonexistent partner.
“So you aren’t dating Venti?” “I don’t even know who that is!” You say, frustrated. You put your hands on your face, feeling annoyed. You groan into them in anger. All these stupid rumours were the reason you were here with a horrible headache and Diluc looking at you like you were scum on Earth. You wanted to crawl up into a ball and disappear right now.
“Then can you do me a favour?” Diluc spoke up, disturbing your grovelling session. You look up from your hands and stare at him sadly. “What?” You weakly ask.
“Can you confess to me again when you aren’t drunk?” You blink, unsure of what you just heard. “What?” You say, still unable to process what he had just asked you to do.
“Your confession. Say it to me when you aren’t drunk.” He said once more, looking at you with his unchanged expression. He was being deadly serious. He was asking you to confess again. “Wait wait, so you don’t hate me?” Diluc tilted his head, eyebrow raised. He seemed shocked you even said that. “Why would I ever hate you? Were people saying that?” He asked, crossing his arms, his face turned dark when he said it but you shook your head. “No no, but, does that mean you like me?” You ask, feeling sheepish.
And for the first time this entire night, you could see a small smile fall on his lips. His face softened, no longer a glare in his eyes. His cheeks rose a bit when he smiled and you were certain this smile was for you. “Ask again when you aren’t reeking of alcohol.” He retorted back playfully. “Now, off to bed, I’ll head out now. I heard that you won’t be at work tomorrow so I better hear from you soon.”
With that, he left you, alone in your house, with your thoughts full of him. You knew for a fact you were not going to be able to sleep the entire night, nor was your headache going to be fixed by any type of medicine.
Sorry Mondstadt, but your favourite bachelor is finally going to be off the market!
—
The slight sounds of a lyre could be heard in the distance on the streets of Mondstadt. A drunk bard still singing a tune.
“Did you hear about this rumour? There is going to be love in the air soon~”
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#diluc x reader#diluc ragnivindr x reader#diluc ragnivindr x gender-neutral reader#diluc x gender-neutral reader#genshin impact x gender neutral reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin fluff#genshin x reader
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Kinkuary Day 8
AN: I want to make it clear that Black Eye Vernon is the Vernon of all time. He released that solo specifically for me, and I have at least 15 fic ideas involving Black Eye Vernon in particular. This is one of them. Is spitting and Vernon cliché? Yes. Will I still eat it up every single time? Yes.
Synopsis: Vernon always feels alive after a great show. One of his favourite ways to celebrate is with you. Especially when you indulge him.
General tags and warnings: Hansol Vernon Chwe x Fem! Reader, established relationship, rockstar! Vernon and I think that's it really. Very much pwp.
Primary kink: Spitting.
Smut tags and warnings: Not exactly power dynamics but, Reader is a little more in charge, pegging, masturbation, some praise, spitting, hints of overstimulation (m. receiving), cumplay and snowballing (sort of).
Word count: 1k.
I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.
Vernon always looks electric on stage. Forcing everyone in the audience's eyes on him from the second his set begins until the very end. And you're no exception.
You've seen him perform more times than you can count by now but, you still find yourself drawn into his husky vocals and magnetic aura. Your pulse never fails to quicken when he shoots you a smile meant only for you to tell you he knows he absolutely killed it tonight. Even with the sweat dripping off of him and his smeared eyeliner, he looks like the he's king of the world.
Which is why you let him choose his favourite strap tonight. It's always been hard for you to tell him no in general but, it's especially difficult after he looks so proud and happy with himself. His heart-shaped smile nearly splitting his handsome face in half. How could you ever dream of saying no to him?
Watching him on stage is easily one of your favourite ways to drink him in but, if you're being honest with yourself, it doesn't even come close to the vision he creates sprawled out on his back. His black locks sticking to his sweaty forehead while his unfocused eyes stare off somewhere you could only hope to decipher. The smudge of his liner is always hot but, it's even more unfairly attractive now.
“You look so pretty, Nonnie,” you whisper in awe, clutching onto his hips tighter and delighting in the way his back arches when you thrust into him much harsher than before. He chokes on a moan of your name and you can feel your wetness smearing your inner thighs further. God, if you were a little more greedy you'd sit on his cock in an instant. However, tonight isn't about you.
You're not nearly as strong as Vernon. Really, he could easily squirm his way out of your hold but you know, despite the shyness he feigns, he enjoys this far too much. As evidenced by the throaty whimpers and groans that leave his bruised lips every time you fuck into him and the copious amounts of pre-cum leaking onto his stomach. It's hard to pick what to focus on when you fuck him. Between his gorgeous, fucked out face, his thick bobbing cock and his cute hole that spreads easily for his favourite toy, it's a difficult choice.
Vernon, however, makes that choice for you when his hand hurriedly grabs his cock and starts stroking it in a frenzy. The chains around his neck clink loudly against one another when he throws his head. Meeting your thrusts as best as he can while he fucks his fist. You're sure you've dripped onto his fancy hotel sheets by now but, you're too enamoured with the start of him falling apart to give too much thought to the dull pain between your thighs.
You can tell he can't quite get there yet when whines of frustration start to pour out of him. However, an idea quickly pops into your head and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face. Well, there's nothing wrong with relying on a tried and tested method.
“Nonnie, baby, open your mouth for me,” you command sweetly, noting the way his strokes falter and his eyes glaze over at your command. Vernon, being ever the obedient boy that he is, complies without any more prompting. His bruised lips parting for you in an instant, his tongue sticking out to ensure he doesn't miss a drop and fuck, does he look hot.
Collecting as much of your spit as you can, you lean down until you're close enough to see every mark on his face and his individual lashes. While you're fond of keeping him waiting, tonight isn't that kind of night. One of your hands moves from where it was digging into his hip to wind itself into his dark locks to angle him better. He moves willingly. Anticipating your next move. Fortunately for him, you don't keep him on the edge of his seat much longer. Spitting into his open mouth without any more fanfare.
His response is instantaneous.
He greedily swallows your spit, squeezing his eyes shut when his orgasm slams into him like a runaway train. His entire body shudders and squirms underneath you. Ropes and ropes of his thick, sticky cum decorating his cute stomach. You continue to fuck him through his release albeit much more slowly and gently. His throaty moans and choked groans all feeding the desire that's been simmer in your core since you got your hands on him what feels like hours ago.
“Ah fuck too-too much,” he manages to babble out, one of his hands gripping your wrist in an attempt to get you to stop abusing his sweet spot. As much as you'd love to push him just a little bit further, you think he's had enough for now so, you stop. Your gaze drifting from his flushed, sweaty face, down to his chest until you reach the streaks of cum on his stomach. Before you can stop yourself, you reach down to scoop up as much of his cum as you can with your fingers and shove them into your mouth. You moan the second he hits your tastebuds. Your eyes fluttering shut while you savour his taste.
It takes you a moment to realise that Vernon is watching this entire spectacle with wide eyes and parted lips. Despite cumming not too long ago, you do notice his cock jump. Maybe you will get to sit on it tonight after all.
Pushing that thought to the side, another idea springs to your mind and you're sure your face betrays your thoughts when you notice him gulp. It would be comical if you weren't so wet and worked up. Mixing his cum with your spit, you lean down towards him one more time. And fuck does your clit pulse at the way he opens his mouth eagerly and sticks out his tongue. You spit into his mouth much slower this time. Letting your combined fluids take their time hitting his tongue.
Still, it's eternally satisfying watching the way he melts when it does finally slip into his mouth. If you keep this up, you might just be able to get him hard again in record time. And based on the way he chases the taste of your spit and his cum with his pretty, pink tongue, you think he might be into the idea too.
Reblogs are greatly appreciated.
Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.
Kinkuary Masterlist | Seventeen Masterlist | Ko-fi.
#hansol vernon chwe smut#vernon chwe smut#chwe vernon smut#chwe hansol smut#vernon smut#hansol smut#seventeen smut#hansol vernon chwe x reader smut#vernon x reader smut#seventeen x reader smut#hansol x reader smut#vernon chwe x reader smut
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