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wishesunderthestars · 4 years

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Eunoia // Ch. 14

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognition, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 15k+

Warnings: Abuse and violence, past sexual abuse, derogetory language, sexual harassment

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

It has been a long time, I know. Thanks for being patient with me. This was supposed to be the last chapter of Yoongi and Hoseok’s part but I just couldn’t fit everything that needed to happen inside or it would turn into a 30k chapter and be even more late, so I divided it into two.

The taglist is now closed.

Four days felt like a much smaller amount of time than when you had first been informed of your break. When you heard the alarm the morning you had to go back to work, you were tempted to ignore it and cover your head with the sheets. This was strange for two reasons. You always woke up before your alarm and it was impossible for you to fall asleep again after waking up, even when you were exhausted. But your eyes were heavy and sleep was clinging to your bones.

You reached for your phone and turned off the alarm. The hybrids were waiting for you in the kitchen, breakfast already served. You thanked Seokjin, who looked the most awake. Jimin and Jungkook were leaning against each other with their eyes half closed, small yawns escaping them every few minutes. It was a little earlier than the time you usually left but you had to do some work in the company building before you could go to the studios. Hoseok's injuries were much better, you didn't need to check on them twice a day anymore so you avoided going to their room and waking them up.

The fox hybrid had been opening up more and he looked more at ease with his surroundings. After eating dinner with you on the first night of your break, he had timidly asked if they could join you again. His whole face lit up when you told him they would always be welcome. Dinners had turned into lunches too, claiming that way you didn't have to carry the trays to their room every day.

You weren't surprised at how well he got along with Jimin. His heart-shaped smile had even charmed Namjoon. He was fascinated with every little thing and you made use of your break to show him around the house. It could be a little overwhelming, so you stuck to the basics at first. The kitchen, the upstairs living room, the library (where at least one of you could be found most times) and the cinema room. He looked at everything in wonder, his red tail wagging behind him. Yoongi trailed after you, the bored expression on his face slipping at how happy and excited Hoseok was.

The second day of your break Jimin announced that you would all be watching a movie. He would accept no complaints, not that there were any. You made enough popcorn for a whole movie theater while Seokjin and Jungkook made pizza. You strictly forbade them from putting on one of your movies. You were so deeply involved and connected with them you had trouble watching them without overthinking every scene, line and camera angle. Jimin pouted, joined by Jungkook and a more subtle Hoseok. But you didn’t budge. Jimin huffed and selected a comedy with an actor Seokjin liked.

It was the third day of your break and Jimin had dragged you with him to the guest suite, saying he needed his daily cuddles. You were laying together in his bed as you played with his blond strands. His hair was growing longer and he was complaining that it was falling in his eyes but you loved running your hands through it, your fingers getting lost inside. Jimin snuggled into your side, his tail wrapped around your waist.

“You are very affectionate today,” you said. Jimin let out an unsatisfied noise when you stopped massaging his scalp, so you moved your hand upwards, scratching behind his cat ears, eliciting a small moan from him.

“I am always affectionate,” he said, nuzzling against your collarbones. “You’re just not here and you’re tired when you come back.”

You placed a kiss on the crown of his head. “Sorry.” It was your job. You shouldn’t feel guilty. And yet…

Jimin raised his head, your hand falling from his hair to rest on his cheek. “Don’t be. I just wish you were here more. With us. But your job is important.”

“I guess,” you said caressing his cheek, the cat hybrid leaning into your touch. “I’ll try to get some more time off when I go back to work.” It would be difficult but not impossible. There were often breaks for a couple of days in the filming schedule but you usually spent those revising scripts or reviewing the work of the various departments or attending meetings. Many of those things weren’t actually your responsibilities, they weren’t in your contract, you did them because you wanted everything to be perfect. You could take a step back for once and make up for it later.

Jimin leaned against you, purring happily at the prospect of spending more time with you. He had been clinging to you in the past days after your week-long absence. The first night after making up with Jungkook he had slept with him in their room and you’d thought he would sleep there from now on. But the next night you had come out of the shower to find him laying in your bed.

A talk show was playing on the TV, filling the comfortable silence of the room. Jimin whispering your name had you looking away from the screen. “Hoseok is doing better, right?”

“He is. He’s recovering fast. Why are you asking?” you asked, worried that he had noticed something you hadn’t. Hybrids had much more developed senses than humans that could have detected something you had missed.

“He’s nice,” he said, playing with the fake buttons of your shirt. “He looks so happy all the time and he’s so energetic.”

“He is. See? He’s really getting better.” That didn’t seem to satisfy Jimin.

“What if they want to leave now that he’s better?”

You cooed at him, pulling him closer. “Is that what’s brought this on? If they want to leave we can’t stop them. The door is always open if they don’t want to be here anymore. They only came here because Hoseok was injured and he couldn’t go to the hospital.”

“But can they stay?” His eyes were shining as he looked up at you. “Please.”

“They can stay for as long as they want. But I can’t force them to stay.”

Jimin didn’t say anything more, hiding into your side. Last night at dinner, Jimin had been quiet and withdrawn, glancing at Yoongi every few minutes. There was history between them, one that ran deep and cut just as hard. From little clues and pieces and what Jimin himself had told you, you had pieced together an image of Jimin’s past but you had trouble finding where exactly Yoongi fit.

You hadn’t forgotten Jimin’s words in your office the day you had invited the two hybrids in your house. Yoongi once belonged to the same man Jimin did. They had done something to him and Jimin had been left to the adoption center he had escaped from. Yoongi had been left somewhere else, you guessed a less savory place. But you couldn’t figure out what they could have done to be kicked out. Something Jimin still felt guilty about. Betrayal was a strong and sticky word and it was hard to associate it with sweet Jimin, even when that man deserved that and more.

Yoongi was a mystery surrounded by several brick walls. Only a wrecking ball could break them down. You were the kind of person to knock on a wall and wait for it to crumble by itself when it came to people. At work, if the only way to get through an obstacle was a wrecking ball, you would bring a wrecking ball.

Surprises weren’t uncommon for you (see: Virginia earthquake), you had learnt to face them head on and control the consequences. But that hadn’t prepared you for the string of surprises during your break and the days after that.

The first surprise came with how well Hoseok was getting along with the other hybrids. His endearing excitement about anything and everything didn’t fail to amuse them. He would curl up on the grass, bathing in sunlight, often joined by Jimin who had developed the same habit when spring first arrived. He was curious about everything, asking question after question with his red fluffy tail wagging behind him like an overexcited puppy. All of you couldn’t help but humor him and try to answer his questions to the best of your abilities.

The second surprise shocked you more than the first. It was the third night the two hybrids were eating dinner with you in the backyard. Yoongi usually didn’t talk, opting to focus on his food while observing the progression of the meal. Thus when he spoke, everyone fell silent. He didn’t say much, it only took him a couple of seconds to compliment Jin’s cooking then become quiet again. Jin stuttered through his thanks, flustered at the unexpected compliment. The panther hybrid didn’t talk again for the rest of the meal.

The third surprise was seeing Yoongi and Jimin sitting next to each other, sometimes in silence and sometimes talking. Being pulled to each other like a moth to the flame. It made Hoseok all too happy to spend time with both of them.

The fourth surprise came in the form of a text from a contact you hadn’t interacted with since Christmas. You laid back on your bed, staring at the paragraphs-long text and forgetting about anything else. You stared and stared as if the letters would rearrange themselves, or better yet disappear if you stared long enough.

You didn’t notice how much time you had spent there unmoving until there was a knock on the door.

“Open,” you called.

The door was pushed open and Namjoon walked into the room, his gray hair falling in his face. In the mornings he looked younger. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Yeah,” you said, not moving. They never had to call you for breakfast. Your schedules had become so in sync you arrived for breakfast the moment it was ready or a few minutes early.

“What happened?” Namjoon asked. He approached, sitting down next to you on the bed.

“Nothing happened, I guess. It’s an invitation.” The text had been sent late last night but you had missed it, leaving your phone to charge upon coming back home and not looking at it again. “It’s from my parents. For a gala.”

“Your parents?” The surprise was evident in his face. You didn’t talk much about your parents, those were conversations you didn’t tend to enjoy. Your parents were a topic you weren’t well-versed in and your lack of confidence was irritating.

You looked at the text again, black letters surrounded by gray. “They invited me to a fashion gala. They would really appreciate it if I could attend.” Reading the text again, you wondered if your mother had asked someone else to write it before deeming it persuasive enough to send. “It’s held in Beverly Hills.”

“When?” Namjoon asked.

“Saturday. In less than a week.” It was Tuesday.

Namjoon glanced at your phone. “Do you want to go?”

The answer was more complicated than you would have liked. You didn’t feel like buying a new gown (god forbid if you wore a dress you had worn before at such an event), having your makeup and hair done and plastering a smile on your face while exchanging pleasantries with people you didn’t know for the whole night. But it wasn’t that easy. You hadn’t attended the Christmas event your mother had organized, using work as an excuse, not feeling like showing up at an event in the mindset you had fallen into. Although she didn’t show it, your mother had been offended.

You couldn’t skip another event.

You threw an arm over your eyes, groaning. “I can’t not go. My mother organized the gala, it will look bad if I’m not there.”

“I could come with you,” Namjoon offered.

It would be nice having someone there with you. Namjoon had a way of calming you down and settling your worries but actually remembering those galas made you change your mind. The rich and mighty loved showing off their wealth and power and hybrids were part of that allure. You wouldn’t subject Namjoon to that. You weren’t sure how he would react. You didn’t want to subject him to your parents’ scrutiny either.

“It would be better if I went alone,” you said. Namjoon threaded his fingers with yours in understanding. He pulled on your hand until you were sitting up on the bed, facing him.

“If you don’t want to go, you shouldn’t.”

Only that it wasn’t so simple. Or it was just your human nature making this overcomplicated.

“My mother will be really disappointed if I don’t go. I didn’t go to her last event, either. It will look bad if I don’t go to this one too.” Namjoon squeezed your hand, urging you to continue. “I’m just tired of them. Galas, events, they are all the same and not in a good way. Sure, there are some people worth talking too. I’ve had some great conversations there, but those are far and few in between. Most people are just trying to outshine the one next to them. And my mother only wants me there to complete the picture.”

The powerful and influential couple with their successful daughter. It was an image that haunted you. Most times you tried to ignore it because it wasn’t fair of you to judge your parents like that. They never made you attend those events, they didn’t get angry when you couldn’t make it. But it left a sour taste in your mouth when those events were the only times you saw them anymore.

“You don’t have to be alone there.” Namjoon brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss in the middle of your palm. “I’m always here if you change your mind. It would feel better if you weren’t alone.”

“It isn’t that I don’t want you there. I do,” you said. “But that isn’t a world you want to be a part of, it isn’t really my world either. There, hybrids are just expensive accessories and I don’t want people to look at you like that. Like you are something to be had.”

Namjoon’s eyes were soft on you as he cupped your cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding yours. “That’s how most people look at us. It isn’t something new. You don’t have to worry about me, I’m used to it.”

“But it isn’t right.” You sounded like a five-year-old complaining that the world wasn’t fair because her parents didn’t buy her ice cream but you couldn’t help it. “And it isn’t just the other people, the guests. I’m not sure about my parents either. They don’t know I’ve adopted you. Actually, they don’t know about anything that has happened in my life this year.”

“I understand if you don’t want them to know about us.”

“It isn’t that,” you said. “Not exactly. I don’t want them involved in my business and judging my choices. They- They are my parents and I guess they care about me in their own way but I won’t be able to stay calm if they look at you like they are estimating your price tag.”

Namjoon leaned closer, bringing your foreheads together. You closed your eyes, surrounded by his warmth. “All I care about is for you to feel comfortable and if my presence there will make things worse then I won’t come with you. But if you change your mind, I’ll be right here. Whatever you want, I’m here.”

You tilted your head, waiting for his lips to touch yours. You shared a sweet kiss before there was another knock at the door.

“Namjoon! Did you wake her up?” Seokjin shouted from the other side of the door. “The breakfast is getting cold! I woke up at the crack of dawn to make it!”

You giggled as you separated.

“Let’s go before he decides we don’t deserve food,” Namjoon said.

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You had to readjust your schedule for the gala. There were many things you had to do in the five days leading up to it. Your mother was so pleased you accepted the invitation she called you the very next day to tell you how happy she was you would be attending. She hadn’t organized a fashion gala in years and it meant a lot that you would be there to support her. The gala was all about the importance of fashion and the unique interpretations of old and new big names in the industry. It would be one of the grandest events of the year, even if your mother was as clueless about fashion as she was about your life. She enjoyed watching the glorious parts and giving compliments, but rarely got more involved than that.

She had arranged for you to meet with one of the designers featured at the event. You could choose a dress from his collection that would be showcased at the gala. Your mother reassured you that they would do everything so your dress would be fitted to your exact measurements and ready for you to wear on time. You didn’t complain. It would be otherwise impossible to find a dress of the caliber your mother expected in such a short time.

The designer came to your house himself with his assistants. He was a nice young man with a tilted accent revealing that he wasn’t originally from the United States. You made small talk about the different kinds of art characterizing your jobs. They took your measurements and presented you with a few options the designer had selected for you. Some were more eccentric than others but all of them were beautiful.

After discussing with him and listening to his opinions, you selected a piece with gold and red embroidery and a flowy skirt. He was very pleased with your choice, going on and on about how good it would look on you. You felt fluttered at how excited he was for you to wear his design.

You had to meet him again a few days later for the first fitting. He offered to come to your house again but it would be easier for the alterations to be at his studio, where all of his tools were.

Jimin had seen the opportunity to spend more time with you and put on his most convincing puppy eyes asking you to take him with you to the fashion studio. You had no reason to refuse, you wanted to spend more time with him too. Somehow Jimin roped Seokjin into coming with you as well. They waited for you outside until the alterations were done. You couldn’t resist spoiling them while you were out so you took them for waffles. From Seokjin’s stuffed face it was safe to say he enjoyed them.

You had to go back to work after the fitting but Jimin was clinging to you not letting you go, which was how you ended up with the two of them at the final table-reading for the first episode of the Raven Cycle. They both quietly watched the actors delivering their lines. Jimin leaned forward in his seat as he got more and more invested in the scenes, snapping out of it whenever one scene ended and you discussed corrections and suggestions.

The atmosphere was light and friendly. You were professionals and you believed in maintaining a healthy environment of communication and mutual respect that left space for jokes and friendships to develop. The chemistry between the actors was important and you found that when they were friends and had a bond in real life too, it showed.

“Okay, that was great. I liked Ronan’s extra lines, we should keep that in.” The writer next to you wrote it down. “It’s getting late so let’s take a small break for a few minutes and move on to scene fifteen and sixteen and we’re completely done with episode one.” Everyone agreed with you and soon chatter was filling the room. You stretched your arms behind you, your body was complaining after sitting for too many hours.

The snacks and refreshments on the table against the wall were dwindling as the table-reading went on. All the important people in the project were there; the executive producers, the writers, the heads of the various departments and of course all the main actors of the first episode. The room with the large table and the many couches and chairs was large enough for everyone.

Three more days of table reading, which was mainly for revisions, and you would be done, leaving around a week before filming was scheduled to start. Just on time. Despite unfortunate surprises and earthquakes, you were on time. Next week you would be back in the studios standing behind the cameras watching years of work and planning coming to life. The first moments of filming in every movie or TV show whispered to you in silver and gold lines that you couldn’t describe as anything else than magic.

You picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich from the snack table, getting caught up in a short conversation with one of the producers. Your scalp was beginning to hurt from the tight ponytail your hair was trapped in. With a pat on your shoulder, the producer left to find the head of the costume department.

Jimin and Jin were sitting on the smallest couch, away from the table in the middle of the room. Jimin’s ears twitched as you settled on the armrest. You handed him the sandwich.

“For me?”

“You have been looking at it as much as you have been looking at the actors.”

Jimin still didn’t take a bite. “I already ate two.”

“And now you will eat one more.” You nudged the sandwich closer to his face. “They are quite small. I think Will has eaten seven since we started.” You glanced at your assistant, he was talking with two of the actors.

Jimin smiled at you like you were sharing a secret before diving into his sandwich. You opened your water bottle and gulped down half of it in seconds.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? It’s past eight and it will take at least one more hour to finish the last two scenes and wrap everything up.” You had asked them if they wanted to leave three times since you’d arrived and the answer had been the same each time.

“It’s eight?” Jin asked, pulling out his phone from his pocket. You leaned over Jimin to peek at the screen seeing a few texts from Namjoon and Jungkook and notifications from the various apps Jin used. You had texted Namjoon earlier so he wouldn’t worry that Jin and Jimin hadn’t returned home.

“And it will be at least nine by the time I’m done,” you said.

“We’ve been here for three hours. We can wait for you one more.” Jin opened the messages app reading the texts, a smile appearing on his face.

Jimin had eaten more than half of the sandwich, crumbs sticking at the sides of his mouth. “I want to see what happens at the end. Pretty please?”

“We will wait for you,” Jin said. “We don’t have anything better to do,” he added, to which Jimin agreed enthusiastically. You scratched the cat hybrid's ears while he devoured the rest of the sandwich.

What you hadn’t considered before taking them with you was that the table reading would give away many spoilers for the show. Spoilers were the bane of your existence. Not everyone minded them but you disliked them with passion. You had almost strangled Zayn when he had told you a spoiler he had seen on Twitter for the ending of Avengers: Infinity War, minutes before the movie started. Zayn had been very lucky the lights hadn’t gone out yet. The suspense was one of your favorite parts and that was ruined for you when you knew what would happen.

At least it was the first episode but there was a lot of discussion on how certain parts or pieces of dialogue would connect with later episodes. The fact that it was an adaptation also changed things. You had been adamant about staying true to the original story and keeping in as many scenes from the book as you could. Your additions revolved around character development, the relationships between the characters, and some conflicts that hadn’t been in the book but you had discussed in length with Maggie. In this case, you didn’t know exactly how to define spoilers.

As expected, you finished the table reading twenty minutes past nine. Gathering all your folders from the table, the scripts, and various notes from the writers and producers, you hid them all away in your backpack. Henrietta and the magical forest were coming to life from their voices alone. You could already imagine how captivating it would be on screen.

Jimin was laying his head on Jin’s shoulder with his arm wrapped around the older’s waist. It had taken some time for them to relax in the room full of strangers, some of who hadn’t been subtle about staring. One look from you and their gazes had darted away. It still wasn’t common to have a hybrid, much less three, but you didn’t care how curious they were if they were making Jimin and Jin uncomfortable.

During the first break, early at the table reading, you had been roped into a debate about a possible change in one of the scenes. The two hybrids had kept to themselves, staying quiet and watching. The actress playing Blue had walked up to them with a wide smile and introduced herself. The remaining tension in them was released when she struck up a conversation with them.

“Time to get going,” you said. Jimin looked up at you, blinking drowsily. “Should I tell John to carry you to the car?”

“We’re leaving?” he asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“Thankfully yes so you need to get up.” You had wrapped everything up, saying goodbye to everyone and you were ready to go.

Jin kissed Jimin’s blond curls. “Let’s go and get you into an actual bed.” He got up and pulled Jimin with him, the younger hybrid was clinging to his back like a koala from the hallway where you met up with John to the parking lot.

In the car, you looked at them through the rear-view mirror. Jimin’s eyes were closed, laying his head on Jin’s shoulder.

“Hard day?” John asked, moving the gear shift to the left and then up.

“I’m a little afraid that my scenario might be a little boring,” you said glancing behind you. “It’s too early for him to be falling asleep.”

The car started moving, leaving the dimly lit parking lot behind. “He’s not used to being out for that long,” Jin said smoothing down Jimin’s hair with care. Jin cared for you with everything he had, you tried to do the same but it was close to impossible with how busy you were.

“If it’s my scenario though, I need to rewrite that thing from beginning to end.”

John chuckled. “Good luck telling that to the writers and the producers. They’ll love it.”

They’d love it as much as cats loved swimming.

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You took the day of the gala off. If you went to the gala tired after work, you wouldn’t be able to put a smile on your face and keep it there. It wasn’t so much that the galas were awful but that you felt out of place in them. Your mother had many connections and she would invite the “best” of her world. Some faces had become familiar, a steady fixture in your mother’s guest lists. Some faces you should be able to recognize but you didn’t, resulting in interactions based on pretending.

At the after-parties of award shows and premieres, you were more at ease. The designer dresses and suits were the same, worn by rich and influential people, but it was people you knew and respected. Your skin wasn’t prickling at the tension, lost somewhere between remembering a name or a company and ignoring the jabs at other guests or the rumors spreading like vines.

The last event you had attended was in New York last September, it had been the event of the year according to your mother. Jacob had accompanied you, hugging your mother and shaking hands with your father. He had stayed next to you from the moment you stepped into the place to the moment you got into the car to leave. You had to somewhat agree with your mother. A lot of interesting people were in attendance, famous writers and journalists, and you succeeded in ignoring the less favorable situations.

Your parents had changed a lot, or maybe it was just the circumstances that had changed and the different perspective you had as an adult. You used to cast them as the absentee parents, an overused trope you didn't find much merit in. It was too simple, too straightforward. They didn't disappear from one day to the next, cutting all contact with you. It was more like the times they were there grew fewer and fewer until they had moved permanently to New York by the time you were eight. Your father had been offered a position he couldn't refuse and your mother loved him too much to leave him alone there. She tried, she tried to stay for you but she had been trying to find a reason to leave your hometown since she was a teenager. The penthouses and neat offices fit her far better than the beaches and town squares ever did.

It started as a few weeks at first. Your father would be staying in the city for some meetings and your mother wanted to join him. His job involved a lot of traveling and in most of your memories, he was holding a suitcase. A few weeks turned into a month the next time, then into a few months you had to stay with your aunt and your cousins. After you turned eight, they were coming back only for a few weeks every year.

When you were ten you stopped answering their calls and refused to talk to them. Your mother still tried, even traveled back to be with you. Instead of staying at your house with her, you stayed with your aunt. Your mother left defeated. It took a year for you to speak to them again. Childish, but you couldn't blame your past self. The cracks in your relationship with your parents were still there. As an attempt to prevent them from widening and growing, you at least tried to attend the events your mother invited you to.

Another one to add to the list.

"Does the duck look ready to you?" you asked Jin. Roasted duck wasn't a dish you had experience with but that wasn't the only reason you called for Jin. Being home for the day you had offered to help Jin cook lunch. Cooking helped take your mind off, focusing on the recipe and chatting with Jin.

Jin left the lettuce he was washing in the bowl and dried his hands in a towel. His steps were careful and measured, one of his hands holding on the counter.

"It looks good," he said. "You can take it out."

You opened the oven, pulling back last minute so the heat wouldn't burn your face. "It smells incredible! I think I got ten times hungrier just smelling this."

Jin chuckled but it was strained. "I'm too good at this." He was still holding onto the counter.

"You won't catch me complaining."

He went back to the lettuce in the sink, his bangs falling into his face and covering his eyes. You wrapped the chicken breasts in foil and let them rest for a few minutes. The figs were caramelized and the potatoes fried until golden. That was about it for the main dish.

Jin was cutting the lettuce so you occupied yourself with making the salad dressing. You worked in silence. It wasn't for the lack of anything to say but a flinch from Jin earlier, while you had been talking, had you lowering your voice and then closing your mouth when you were finished with that sentence. It was only for a moment before he turned away, but it was enough for you to notice. You had asked him if he was alright twice and both times the answer had been the same. After that, it was clear he wouldn't tell you anything else regardless of how many times you asked.

A thud echoed in the room followed, not a second after, by the sound of metal clattering on wood. The spoon you used to mix the ingredients of the salad dressing stilled in your hand. Jin had fallen to his knees on the floor, holding the counted with one hand and his head with the other. The knife laid abandoned on the cutting board next to the lettuce.

For a moment your surroundings blurred from the surprise before coming into crystal clear focus. You rushed to Jin's side, who was trying to pull himself back up to his feet.

"I'm alright. I slipped," he said.

"You slipped? Seriously?" You had one arm around his waist and it stayed there as he leaned back against the counter. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little dizzy," Jin muttered. That close to him, only a breath away, you could see how pale he was, the dark circles under his eyes standing out against the white of his skin.

"You haven't been alright since we started cooking. You aren't just a little dizzy, that's not how someone is when they're a little dizzy."

Jin turned his head to the side, avoiding your gaze. "Let it go, please. Only the salad is left. I'll rest after we eat."

"Jin, that's not..." Clueless about how to continue, you pressed your palm to his forehead. In winter your hands were always freezing cold, it didn't matter if the temperature wasn't that low they would turn into popsicles mere seconds after going outside. Only that it wasn’t winter but spring and your hands were as warm as they could be, that’s why it was that much more concerning that his forehead was warmer than it should be under your touch. “You’re burning up. How are you still standing?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Jin said. He wasn’t looking at you.

“It isn’t that bad?” you repeated in disbelief. “Forget about the salad, I’m taking you to your room.”

You were about to turn around when Jin gripped your elbow weakly. “You don’t need to, really, I can finish up here, it isn’t the first time. I can do it.” The sweat that was gathering on his forehead and his tired eyes told a different story.

“You have been cooking while feeling sick?” you asked. Being out of the house almost all day it wouldn’t have been hard to miss and when you came back at night you weren’t that aware of your surroundings, but the other hybrids would have been able to see past Jin’s pretenses.

“Not here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

That’s something you should have expected. You had never met his previous owners but you couldn’t stop yourself from hating them for what they had done to him. Hate was too strong of a word but you didn’t have any other name for the burning in your chest whenever you witnessed how insecure and self-conscious Jin had become of them.

You cupped his cheek in your palm turning his head to face you and you rested your forehead against his, your noses bumping. At the touch his shoulders slumped, his back muscles unraveling under your hand. Jin joked that it was weird that his scent glands weren’t in the same places as other hybrids’ but in strange places like his forehead. You couldn’t agree with him because standing there with your foreheads touching it was just as intimate.

The walk to his room was silent. You opened the door for him and watched him hide under the covers, between the countless pillows and stuffed animals. Before leaving, you placed a kiss on his forehead your lips warming up because of his fever. You wanted to stay there with him and with the way he was holding your hand he wanted the same but the lettuce was waiting for you back in the kitchen and there were five hybrids you had to feed.

Finishing up the meal was a matter of minutes. The dressing for the salad had been made and you only had to finish cutting the lettuce and a few fresh tomatoes before mixing everything in a large bowl. You unwrapped the foil from around the duck breasts and arranged them in plates, adding the figs with the pan juices and the fried potatoes. It looked like something you would order at a five-star restaurant, most of Jin’s cooking did.

The mouth-watering aroma must have drifted downstairs because as you were putting the last touches on the plates two sets of feet were running up the staircase. Jimin looked like he had been lured into the kitchen by some magical force, transfixed on the plates on the counter. He sniffed, making tiny happy noises.

“This smells so good. I’m hungry!” he whined.

Jungkook followed behind, taking a look at the plates and turning to you with pleading eyes. “When are we eating?”

You shook your head at their antics. “I just finished up, you can take them down if you want so stop looking at me like that.”

Jimin pouted, his shoulders raising. “Looking at you like what?”

“Stop that, I know what you’re doing.”

Jimin continued on, batting his eyelashes at you. “What am I doing? Am I not doing good?”

You pinched his cheek, making him giggle. “I thought you were hungry but apparently you aren’t hungry enough if you’re still here instead of taking the food down.” At that Jungkook was quick to take out the large trays and fill them with the plates and bowls.

Jimin went to help before pausing. “Where is Jinnie?”

Jin was always in the kitchen before meals, helping the two youngest carry the trays to the backyard. You didn’t want to worry Jimin, he was very sensitive to how others were feeling. His emotional walls were so thin that your blues and grays bled into his yellow. “He’s in his room resting, he’s feeling a little under the weather today.”

“But…How didn’t we notice anything?” Jimin asked.

You patted his shoulder. “I didn’t either until we were cooking lunch. He just needs to rest and he will be better in no time.” Jimin gazed at the food like it could give him the answers he was looking for, you continued. “The duck is his recipe, he only went to his room after the food was ready.” You didn’t mention how he had collapsed while cutting the lettuce, a knife in his hand and way too many grievous possibilities.

Jungkook picked up the nicest plate, you had made it last and having used the previous six ones as practice it had come out looking the best. “Can I take it to him?” It was well-known that he had a soft spot for Jin, sneaking into his room the nights he was running away chased by guilt. Jin had been the only one he had let in then. But again, they all had a soft spot for each other, it may translate differently into actions but it was the same at the core.

You pulled out a smaller bowl from the cupboard. Let me put some salad in this first.” This was one of the only salads everyone liked, even Jimin who was firmly against eating most greens (Namjoon didn’t like them much either but at least he was trying). You filled a glass with water as well and placed it on the smaller tray Jungkook had prepared. “Don’t wake him up if he’s sleeping, he looked really tired.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Jungkook promised picking up the tray and leaving for Jin’s room.

Jimin went back to arranging the plates on the trays. “He’ll be alright soon, right?”

“Of course he will,” you reassured him. “In no time he will be shouting at Jungkook for eating his ingredients and having fights with any insects that find their way to the garden. Now, let’s take these down because having the food right in front of me and not eating it is killing me.”

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Jin had a terrible headache, that’s where everything had started. He had woken up and instantly wanted to roll to his other side and fall asleep again covering his head with the blanket. His eyes refused to stay open and everything around him was like he was in a fog. His body wasn’t his own, it was like watching someone else execute each move he commanded, like he had lost parts of his senses. Everything was duller.

Powering through, he got up and made his bed, throwing the blankets over it with less precision than usual and arranging his stuffed animals against the pillows. It was your day off because of the gala and he had to make breakfast for you and the other hybrids.

It was enough that he got a few more hours of sleep as a result of the lack of your morning schedule. He could deal with the world being a little blurry at the edges and his body not cooperating every few minutes.

He made an easy breakfast for the day, which was a little disappointing when you were able to sit and enjoy it for once, but he was physically unable to do anything more. Sitting down would help. After breakfast, he would lay down on the couch and he would be better in no time.

Breakfast came and went and in a few hours, he had to start making lunch. Your offer to help was a godsend with his feet feeling like jelly. He thought he had it under control, that he could get through lunch then go to his room and hide under the covers where no one could see him. Until his legs gave up on him.

The knife slipped out of his hand and he watched its slow descent to the cutting board. In a blink he was on his knees, he blinked again and you were next to him helping him up. Hybrids weren’t supposed to get sick, scientists had engineered their whole being down to the color of their hair and eyes, they could strengthen their immune system as well. His past owners used to say that it was in his head because he was living with humans, that if he got sick the center must have given them a problematic hybrid and that couldn’t be true. He had paid a lot for Jin.

The door opened just enough for you to poke your head in. “Jin?” you whispered, quiet enough to not wake him up if he had been sleeping but loud enough for his hearing to pick up while awake. He lowered the blankets from his face. “Hey, did you finish with your food?”

“Yeah, it’s…” He pointed to the tray on the nightstand, he didn’t have enough strength to take it to the desk. You didn’t comment on the food that was left on the plates.

“Are you feeling any better?” you asked. His head still hurt and the heaviness of his body didn’t subside, but it was much better than when he had been standing so he nodded. “Do you need anything else? I brought some medicine if you want, I read that it’s alright for hybrids to take.” Despite the pain and the weariness of his body, he smiled at you and your research. The way you cared about them was endearing. You pulled out a packet from your back pocket.

“I think I’ll take one.” The constant drumming behind his temples and the back of his head was getting too much. It was so bad it wouldn’t let him sleep.

“I’ll go get some water for you.” You left the packet on the nightstand and picked up the tray with the leftovers.

Jin rolled to his back staring at the ceiling. He didn’t get sick often and he hated how his body was betraying him. You returned with a glass filled with water in one hand and a jug in the other.

“There you go,” you said handing him the glass. You opened the medicine packet and pressed a white tablet out. It was light in his palm, almost as if it wasn’t there. He put it in his mouth and washed it down with water. “You’ll feel better in no time.” You stroked his hair and he had to hold himself back from purring. Being sick he craved affection more than ever before.

“Don’t come too close, you’ll get sick too.”

You didn’t pull back. “Then I’ll have a reason to stay at home. It doesn’t sound so bad.” You tugged at the blanket. “Fancy some company?” Jin scooted to the side, letting you slip in next to him. Something inside him rejoiced at having you in his nest with him. It was ridiculous, having the need to nest was ridiculous, but he couldn’t suppress it. You turned around to face him, your head on a light blue pillow you had picked up from the pile. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

In the absence of words, he nodded his head. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You weren’t wearing makeup today in anticipation of the heavy makeup you would have to wear for the gala. The shadows under your eyes, concealed any other day, were threatening to spill over the rest of your face. The late nights had been many in the past few days, making up for the breaks you were taking. More and more he came to realize that work was your life and you were like a fish escaping water pushing it back.

You didn’t speak, basking in the silent company of each other. Jin let his worries go and, thanks to the medicine, his headache got duller until he couldn’t feel it. He didn’t notice when he fell asleep, waking up to voices.

“…feeling better, the medicine must have kicked in. His temperature has gone back to normal too,” you whispered.

“Okay, that’s good. Our Jinnie is strong,” the other voice said and heat traveled up to the top of Jin’s ears. The voice was unmistakably Namjoon’s and it was so warm Jin wanted to wrap it around himself and never let go. “I think we woke him up.”

“Oh no,” you complained, still whispering. “Jin?”

He opened his eyes, abandoning the comfort of the familiar darkness. You leaning on your forearm peering at him. His heart was beating faster.

“We woke you up, didn’t we?” you asked, looking guilty.

“It’s alright.” He could hear how rough his voice was from sleep. “What time is it?”

“Five,” you said.

He had been sleeping for more than three hours.

Namjoon took a step forward from the door. “I brought you some tea and biscuits,” he said, placing the tray on the now-empty nightstand.

Jin sat up on the bed with his back against the headboard. “Thank you. Can you…?” You picked up the steaming mug and handed it to him, holding it carefully so he wouldn’t burn himself. The plate of biscuits was placed on his lap over the blankets. It was a warm day but the air-conditioning was on in Jin’s room, the weight of the blankets over him promised safety and he didn’t want to be sweating from the heat.

“I’ll be going then,” Namjoon said with a small smile, the two of you exchanging a look.

“Wait.” Namjoon stopped in his tracks. Jin blamed his impulsiveness on the part of him that was controlled by the sugar-glider’s nature. Namjoon shouldn’t be leaving. Namjoon was pack and he should be with him when he wasn’t well, he should be taking care of Jin. One followed the other and it didn’t listen to logic. But he was tired and although the headache was gone, his head was still hazy, so he gave in. “Can you stay?”

The soft smile on Namjoon’s face was enough to wipe away any of his lingering doubts. “Of course I can.” Jin pulled up the blankets inviting him in. Namjoon pulled him closer bringing his forehead to his. The mug shook in Jin’s hold, you covered his hand with yours steading it. Jin realized it wasn’t only his hands shaking as Namjoon scented him tenderly. He felt so weak between the two of you.

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The makeup artist asked you to close your eyes again to finish your eyeliner. Your makeup had to compliment your dress, like you were a model on the runway and your purpose was to sell the design. You had to admit that it looked beautiful so far, the gold eyeshadow and the dramatic eyeliner. She completed the look with a matte red lipstick while the hairstylist was releasing the last loose curl from the curling wand. You looked like someone out of a movie and tonight you would have to own that.

They helped you put on the dress like you were incapable of doing it on your own. In these cases, everything had to be perfect, including the most mundane of things. The jewelry was modest as not to take the attention away from the dress but enhance the look. A golden necklace with a ruby surrounded by tiny diamonds to decorate the skin the plunging neckline left bare, small diamond earrings, and golden bracelets.

Half an hour left before the gala and you were ready. The charm was arriving a little late so you had to wait before leaving. The stylists took their leave but you stayed at the fitting room/styling section of the closet, which was right under the actual master closet.

The dress fit you like a glove, bringing attention to all the right areas and burying any imperfections. It was the kind of Cinderella transformation the protagonists in older movies used to go through before getting the guy, but it happened all the time to you. A spy in an action movie, a confident heroine knowing how to use her looks, a girl going to a party to have fun and get drunk, that’s more along the lines of the characters you liked to imagine yourself as. You were far from being any of those characters but it was fun to daydream sometimes.

One last look in the mirror and you climbed up the spiral staircase to your closet, turning off the lights behind you. The designer you had met had been pleasant and your conversations hadn’t been awkward. If the rest of the guests, or at least the majority, were like him then the night could be fun.

The hybrids were all in the living room, even Hoseok and Yoongi. Yoongi wasn’t sitting far from them, in a separate sphere, but next to Jimin who was pointing at something in a book. They all looked at you when you came in, the back of the dress sweeping the floor behind you.

“How does it look?” you asked, doing a twirl. The response was delayed by a few moments.

Namjoon snapped out of it first, coming closer to you and taking your hand. “You look beautiful.” He leaned in for your neck before his face scrunched up in displeasure.

“What?” you asked.

He sniffed at the air. “You…”

“Oh, oh,” you said in realization. “It’s the perfume, it’s quite strong, isn’t it? It’s a Christmas gift from my mother, she said she really liked it so I thought I would wear it for her.”

Namjoon tamed his expression but the frown didn’t disappear. “It’s a little overwhelming. It overpowers everything else.” The perfume was too much for you too, it wasn’t surprising that it was too much for the keen noses of the hybrids. The perfume you wore day to day in spring was a lot lighter and you didn’t put on a lot. You had never stopped to think about how perfumes would affect the hybrids.

“I’ll be sure to not wear it again then,” you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

“That isn’t what I meant.” Namjoon scratched the back of his neck. “You can wear it if you like it. It’s just a little much.”

“Well,” you looked at him and the other hybrids conspiratorially, “it isn’t my favorite, either, and if it affects you like that why would I keep wearing it?” Namjoon’s face smoothed out and you noticed Hoseok looking at you with amazement.

You opened the leather clutch and put in your phone and your keys. Your lipstick and powder were already inside along with a pack of tissues. It didn’t fit any more things.

“I’ll be going now. I’m fashionably late enough.” Before going, Jungkook and Jimin kissed you on each cheek careful not to ruin your makeup. Jin had fallen asleep again and none of you were willing to wake him up.

The night could become difficult so you ignored Yoongi’s eyes on you. You didn’t need any more people judging you.

A limousine was waiting for you outside, limousines were practically part of the dress code in these events. John wasn’t with you this time, you had given him the night off. These kinds of events starred in his nightmares, standing in the corner all night not saying a word. That’s how they kept up the illusion. Regardless of how many times you told him you didn’t care about it, he would follow what was expected of him.

The bright lights blinded you when you arrived. Everyone seemed to want to take a look at you. Your heels sunk into the red carpet at the entrance hall, large paintings in golden frames hanging from the walls. You were led up a grand staircase to the hall the gala was taking place. And so the night began…

You listened through speeches about fashion and the vision of the fashion industry and each individual designer. A few parts were quite interesting, but most of them failed to do anything more than repeat the same old ideas again and again. However, the champagne did make everything a little more tolerable. Your mother had been very happy to see you there and she had told you at least three times how beautiful you were. Your father smiled at you, a smile that looked way too political to be for his daughter, the same smile he would put on when greeting the president.

After the speeches were finished, your mother linked your elbows. It was time for the introductions. You put on your camera smile and shook more hands than you ever did at work. The compliments on your work were many, which ones were genuine was a mystery. But it did feel good when the daughter of one of your father’s associates told you how much she loved the finale of season 4 of Paper Hearts and asked you about Six of Crows.

You said goodbye to an older couple and your mother led you to the buffet. A sculpture of a man pinning fabrics on a mannequin stood proudly in the middle, surrounded by plates of food so perfect that it looked more fake than the decorative food pieces you used on set.

Your mother took another flute of champagne from a waiter. “Mr. Jones will be retiring soon but his son doesn’t want to take over the company. It causes a lot of family drama. I heard they only exchange a few words when they meet but Mr. Jones isn’t backing down.” You had no idea what company they had or who their son was but you nodded. “Ah, I wanted to ask you. You didn’t say anything about adopting hybrids.”

Your hand stilled before you could taste the hors d' oeuvres that looked like a sandwich but was too fancy to call it that. “Hybrids?” you repeated.

“I didn’t know you were interested in them,” your mother continued, unaware of how tense you had become. “Certainly not interested enough to adopt four. Are you making a collection?” She laughed at her joke but you only felt ill.

“No, I wouldn’t say that.” You took a bite of the food, trying to swallow it down. You had lost your appetite.

Your mother sipped on her champagne. “That would be a unique one, it could be showcased.” The churning in your stomach got worse. You left the piece that looked like a sandwich aside.

“How did you learn of it?”

“Don’t you read any magazines? It was front-page news.” You had expected that the information would be published sooner or later, you hadn’t been exactly hiding it, but sooner or later was in the future not now. “You should have told me, I would have looked for some high-quality places to buy them from. There are some very beautiful exotic pieces I have seen. Mrs. Anderson, do you remember her? She couldn’t make it this time but she was at the charity event last September.” You didn’t remember her but you nodded again. “She has such a cute chinchilla hybrid and he’s so well-trained too. I hope yours were trained well, I heard it’s difficult to train them yourself. Where did you adopt them from?”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat. “An adoption center in Los Angeles,” you lied easily. Spending hours and hours every day with actors, instructing them about how each scene would seem more natural, you had picked up a few tricks. “I just really liked them and they were already a pack, I didn’t want to break them up.”

Your mother arched a single perfectly-drawn eyebrow, a skill you had sadly not inherited. “A pack? Does that actually exist? Dear, the center must have been trying to give you four hybrids instead of one. Pack,” she tried out the word and she didn’t particularly like the results. “That certainly sounds like some kind of con. What are they? Are all of them wolves?”

“No, they aren’t all wolves. And it was three hybrids, I adopted the other one later from Tennessee with Taylor.”

Taylor’s name brought a spark to your mother. “Oh, how is Taylor? Such a sweet girl, I should have invited her. I will next time.” Your mother had met Taylor exactly once during one of the few of your movie premieres she had actually attended. “Which one did you adopt from there?”

You gritted your teeth, debating how much information was wise to give your mother. “Jin, he’s a sugar glider hybrid.”

That seemed to please her. “Sugar glider? That sounds fancy. I would like to see him up close.” Like you would ever allow that to happen. “He must be a rare breed.”

“He is.”

“Of course, I should have expected that my daughter would decide on a rare breed,” she said as if she was congratulating herself. “I insist you bring him to the next event. I was never that interested in hybrids, too much work, but one would look good in photos.”

“Yeah, I guess he would.” You took a deep breath, it wasn’t the time to throw a tantrum like you were five years old again or puke all over your expensive dress and shoes.

The expression on your mother’s face grew somber. “But four hybrids are a lot, I don’t think I know anyone who owns that many.” She twirled the flute in her hand, waves of the golden liquor hitting the glass and bubbles rising to the surface. “After what happened with Jacob I understand you have been feeling lonely, but hybrids aren’t good substitutes for human company, dear. You can’t rely on them as you relied on him or another man.”

A waiter offered you a glass of champagne from a golden tray. You couldn’t drink too much and risk your tongue loosening but you could allow yourself one more glass to get through this. “I’m not trying to replace him. They aren’t some kind of rebound.”

By her pinched expression, she didn’t believe you. “It’s alright to look for company somewhere else when you feel lonely. I don’t want you to think I’m judging your choices, you are an adult and free to make your own decisions but I’m your mother and I’m worried. You and Jacob were together for so long, we were sure he was the one for you. He was so nice and he took care of you. Your father and I were so happy for you.”

“Not all good relationships last. People change, they grow apart.”

“That’s true. It’s difficult getting out of a relationship after being together for so many years and getting back to your feet. That’s why I understand. I understand that you don’t want to be alone right now but don’t put all of your energy into hybrids. It just isn’t the same. Whatever some people like to say, hybrids are hybrids. They are different from us, they are on a different level. You can’t have the same connection with someone you own.”

Her words continued ringing in your mind for the rest of the night. Your father soon called you to introduce you to one of his colleagues, a successful businessman and politician you had never heard of. The glass of champagne was replaced by another one. You promised yourself it was the last. The owner of a luxurious brand talked with your mother about his plan to expand to more countries and the rehearsed and repeated vision to connect the world through fashion.

You peered at the other guests, all mingling, talking, and laughing. A man only a few feet away from you slapped a girl’s ass. You couldn’t believe your eyes, stuff like that didn’t happen at an event like this. You expected a scene, shouting and screaming and everything in between. Nothing happened. The man that had his arm around her waist only laughed. That’s when you noticed the black fluffy ears on top of her head, they were the same color as her hair and easy to miss. She didn’t have a tail. A silver collar with blue stones the same shade as her dress was secured around her neck. Her shoulders were tense and her head lowered.

In any other situation, any other time, you would have done something. You would have walked up to them and said something, anything you could think of on the spot, even talked to her, made a few minutes more tolerable. You did none of those things. Your parents were there and you had avoided embarrassing them all your life.

The guilt was eating you up, wrapping around all your organs and squeezing, hissing, and calling for your attention, not letting you forget. You had done nothing. If someone had touched your hybrids like that you would have cut their hands off. But that hadn’t been your hybrid, it hadn’t been your place. It hadn’t been your place like it hadn’t been your place to adopt Jin and go against his owner, like it hadn’t been your place to get involved with Namjoon’s pack or Yoongi and Hoseok for that matter. Maybe you had been tricking yourself all along, hiding your selfishness and fear behind the pretense of “not my place”.

Your mother was wrong, you hadn’t been looking for company when you and Jacob broke up. On the contrary, you disregarded everything except work, distancing yourself from all of your friends. It was easy with how busy you were at the time. You would have continued hiding in the Castle and spent your break alone if you hadn’t asked John to stop the car that night. They were what you didn’t know you needed. You had to stop being alone first to realize how lonely you had been.

You couldn’t go back to living like that, waking up and returning to an empty house, having no warm meal and warmer hugs waiting for you. That’s what your life had been like for the longest time and you wondered how you used to live like that. The hybrids were so tangled up in your life you couldn’t find where each thread ended or started. They merged and divided, connecting you all in ways you couldn’t describe.

Taylor had asked you about any crushes when you had been in Virginia, everyone was expecting you to find a new boyfriend after six months or at least start dating but you couldn’t bring yourself to do that. No one had piqued your interest and it wasn’t for lack of meeting new people. It would feel wrong going on a date with someone when the hybrids were waiting for you back home. And that’s where the problem was; it shouldn’t feel wrong. Many people who had hybrids went on dates, couples adopted hybrids together and it should be like that for you. But it wasn’t.

Overthinking was one of your talents and you had avoided like you were being chased by wild dogs. You weren’t one to simply go with the flow but Namjoon’s lips on your own had changed your mind. You were too afraid of losing that that you hadn’t allowed yourself to analyze what you were doing, what that meant for you. Namjoon was your hybrid, you may not act like it or think of him like that but you were his owner in the papers. And it wasn’t only Namjoon, the way you cared about the hybrids was different from the way you felt about anyone else. It was all-consuming and too bright. You felt more for them than you had ever felt about Jacob and that was dangerous.

You excused yourself from the event as soon as it was proper for you to do so. Tomorrow morning you had to wake up early for work and you couldn’t stay late into the night. It was true but not the reason you left. Your mother hugged you and thanked you for coming, inviting you once again to their house in New York. She had been inviting you every time you met and you hadn’t once been to their house.

The window of the limousine was cold against your cheek, your foundation staining the glass. Maybe your mother wasn’t that wrong. You didn’t dare put a name to your feelings but you couldn’t deny that they were there. Were you really that lonely that your mind was playing tricks on you? Groaning, you knocked your head against the glass, hard enough to hear a small thud. You shouldn’t be thinking of them like that, it was wrong, so wrong.

Was it the way the world viewed hybrids messing with you, bleeding into your subconscious? They were presented as the answer to any and all desires, transformed into wet dreams. The media had the power to influence behaviors and thoughts little by little without the person noticing. You had thought you were too clever to fall victim to their molded reality. You knocked your head against the glass again, the driver must have been thinking you were crazy.

The limousine parked in front of the Castle. On other nights the lights would have been turned off by now but tonight they were all shinning, welcoming you home. You fished your keys out of your bag and unlocked the door. The lights were on in the living room in the lowest setting.

“Welcome.” You jumped, almost tumbling to the floor at being startled while taking off your heels.

“Every. Single. Time.” Namjoon laughed quietly. “How do you do this every single time?”

“I was already here, I couldn’t make any more noise.” He got up from the couch, extending a hand to you. You took it and he guided you to the couch. “Did you have a good time?”

The dress wrinkled as you pulled one foot under you but you couldn’t care less. “It was… bearable. I didn’t-” You let your head fall on the back of the couch. Seeing Namjoon up close after the night you had, looking at you with soft eyes like you held the sky in the palm of your hand, everything was coming back. What were you doing here? Your heart shouldn’t be racing like that when you were thinking about the wolf hybrid, your hands shouldn’t be itching to touch him.

“You’re here now, you can relax,” he said trailing his hand from your arm to your shoulder and up your neck. Goosebumps raised on your bare skin. “You’re home.” His breath tickled your face, his lips were so close and you wanted, you wanted… You pushed him back.

“I should go take off my makeup. I’m exhausted.”

Namjoon frowned but he didn’t question you. “Okay,” he said softly. “Your bed must be calling your name.”

“It is,” you said slipping away from him. The absence of his touch left a void inside you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You went to your room with a heavy heart, leaving Namjoon alone in the living room.

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You found the offending magazine in a store close to the studios. Copies of it filled a whole stand. The cover was a photo of you with Jin and Jimin in front of the waffle place the day you had taken them with you to the table-reading. It really was front-page news.

In A Stunning Display of Power And Wealth Y/N Y/L/N Adopts Four Hybrids

Straight to the point, every word chosen precisely to attract attention. A display of power and wealth. Of course, that’s what sold copies. That’s what people wanted to read; how one of the richest and most famous directors of your generation was showing off their wealth and power. Hybrids continued to be a sign of money. To adopt four hybrids meant you were crazy rich, but people already knew that when similar headlines had swept all tabloids just a year ago, brought on by the outrageous purchase of the Castle.

Four pages were dedicated to you and your hybrids, completed with more photos of the same day and quotes from “insider sources”. You closed the magazine and went to the counter. The cashier scanned it without glancing at your face, which saved you some trouble. You almost thought you would have to re-enact the comedic scene of the cashier looking at the magazine, then at you, then back at the magazine, then back at you like a robot that had stopped working. You shoved the magazine in your bag, self-conscious of anyone seeing it on you, and went back to the studios.

Filming would begin very soon, which meant you were swamped with work. Everything had to be perfect because that’s the kind of director you were. A perfectionist. If it also gave you an excuse not to think about the hybrids and all of the implications of the flutter of your heart when you were with them, you weren’t complaining. And if you were a little more distant, that could easily be attributed to your work too.

Sleepless nights became too common, your head was too loud and Jimin laying next to you only made it louder.

Filming started and your schedule changed. Most days you still woke up early and returned late at night, but because each scene required a specific time of the day there were nights you came back hours after midnight. You had promised the hybrids you would take them with you on set but every morning you got in the car alone.

Fourth day of filming and unexpected rain forced you to cancel the outside shooting. You only had outside filming that day. You rushed to make adjustments and switch to scenes that could be filmed inside the studios. The crew would need time to prepare everything for the filming so you had been left with the morning off.

You unlocked the door, hiding inside the house from the rain. It hadn’t rained like that in a long time. The heavens had opened up and the rain refused to stop coming down like it was determined to turn Los Angeles into a gigantic lake. Your shoes left puddles wherever you stepped, you would have to mop the floors later. You took them off and placed them by the door. They had suffered the most, the rest of yourself was relatively dry with the exception of the lower part of your pants.

No one was attacking you with hugs as you closed the umbrella someone from the staff had handed you, the hybrids mustn’t have heard you coming in. If they had heard you, you would have had an armful of Jimin and Jungkook by now.

“Oh, hey Yoongi,” you greeted the panther hybrid coming out of the kitchen. Your tactic with Yoongi was to act like you were talking to someone who didn’t strongly dislike you. The scowls and the sneers had decreased turning into a plastic sort of indifference and that’s what made you pause. His scowl could cut you like a knife. “Are you alright?”

Yoongi stalked past you. “What are doing back?” he asked harshly.

You were taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t spoken like that to you since before you had left for Virginia. “I have the morning off because of the rain. Did something happen here?”

“Why do you care?” Yoongi stood by the staircase, his black tail unmoving behind him.

“Why would I not care?” you shot back. The rain had already ruined your plans for the day and caused you enough stress to last you for a few more, you didn’t have enough energy to deal with Yoongi. “Seriously, what happened? Is Hoseok alright?”

A low growl vibrated through the room, you almost took a step back at the threatening sound. “Don’t you speak his name. Was caring for him another way to make you feel powerful? Is this some kind of sick way for you to gain power over someone?”

You were too tired to handle this delicately as you should, you recognized that and proceeded to ignore it. “What the hell is this about? I just came back from work.”

Yoongi scoffed, it was an ugly sound. “Because you have brainwashed everyone else, don’t think I don’t see you for who you are. Have you sold our story yet? About how you saved Hoseok and nursed him back to health? I am sure that will sell many magazines. Show them all how all-powerful you are.”

Through the haze of the day, the words started to click. “You found the magazine.”

“You didn’t try to hide it.” You couldn’t remember where you had left it, it had probably ended up in the stack of magazines under the living room table. “I knew no one would take four hybrids in out of the goodness of their hearts. Did it work? Was it worth it or are you already getting bored? Maybe you should adopt a couple more. Make more headlines.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you gritted out.

“That’s what you’d like to think,” Yoongi sneered. “All of you are the same. Hiding in your mansions and looking for the next chance to brandish your name. It’s a constant chase of power and standing, isn’t it? And you’ll use anyone you’ll find in your way to climb higher. I know how it is. You can’t fool me. I’ve been dealing with people like you for years!”

Your pants and your wet socks were sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your head was buzzing. It hurt because that’s everything you had been trying to avoid. Everything you had promised yourself not to become. Everything you had criticized your parents and their circle for. You weren’t like them. You had never been like them.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend you do,” you said forcefully. “Do you really think that’s how magazines work? I just call them and tell them I want them to write about me? Put me on the front cover? That’s not it. Even if it was, why would I do that? I couldn’t care less about the power-plays you’re talking about. I’m a director and my work speaks for itself. I don’t need magazines to brandish my name because my movies and my shows are more than enough. The paparazzi saw the chance and they took it. Their goal is to sell and their headlines showcase exactly that; what people would buy. I never hid the fact that I adopted hybrids but I wasn’t flaunting it to the media either.”

“Why should I believe you?” Yoongi growled.

You sighed, a sound full of frustration. “Frankly, I don’t see what else I could do to make you believe me! I tended to Hoseok. I didn’t ask any questions. I tried hard not to cross any boundaries and to make you feel welcome. What more do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi said simply. “Nothing you do can change my mind.”

It was like a stone dropped in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have expected anything else. Yoongi had been through a lot, that much was clear, but it was unfair that he was taking out everything on you. You were paying for the scars other humans had inflicted on him.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“You don’t know what I think.”

“It’s pretty clear,” you muttered. “Alright, I can’t change your mind, I won’t even try. I know how to pick my battles. But if you really despise me so much then why bother? Nothing you say will change anything. Are you trying to uncover some hidden truth about me and how evil I am? Then what?”

The fur on Yoongi’s tail and ears stood on end. “I don’t care. I don’t care about you, about what you have done and what you will do as long as we’re gone from here. I don’t care for your charity or your pity. Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted to be here in the first place?”

You swallowed, willing your heart rate to calm down. “Then tell Hoseok and Jimin yourself. The keys are by the door.”

You didn’t wait for Yoongi to say anything else, turning around and locking yourself in your room. You laid down on your bed, your hands gripping your hair. The exhaustion this time was beyond physical, beyond mental. Your hands retreated from your hair, sliding down your cheeks. Your fingers were wet.

Later when Jimin and Jungkook knocked on the door, you had to open the door or risk worrying them. They jumped on the bed and snuggled close to you. You held your phone waiting for the call to go to the studios.

You didn’t face any new problems with filming. The actors were all incredible, seemingly one with their characters. You did a lot of filming at 300 Fox Way, the psychic’s house with its mystic aura and weirdly compelling assortment of objects. You instructed the actors, talked with the crew, and analyzed the script down to each comma. Focusing on anything other than Yoongi’s words and your hybrids had turned into an art form.

The sleepless nights didn’t cease, you and the moonlight had become good friends. Jimin’s visits to your room thinned out. He had noticed you pulling away. You didn’t hug him anymore or kissed his forehead before falling asleep, you couldn’t come to terms with doing that after everything that had happened. You had thought that maybe you would sleep better alone but that had been proved false soon after.

You got out of bed for the fourth night in a row. Every position was uncomfortable. Keeping your steps light you left the room. The large house was eerie at night, the living room area with its glass walls looked endless, combining the actual living room, the dining room, and what the real estate agents had called the family room that was really just another living room.

You couldn’t stay in your room on nights like these, it was too contained. The night air on your skin sent shivers down your frame as you walked out on the balcony. It was two days before the full moon and its glow illuminated the world.

What had you gotten yourself into? You wished you could go back to that morning and decline your mother’s invitation to the gala. Maybe, just maybe, then you would be able to sleep, your head wouldn’t be fighting you at every turn, at every chance.

Little pieces of moonlight shimmered and danced on the lake. The calmness of the world was a stark contrast to the mess in your head. You remembered how Jungkook had looked at the lake in awe that very first night, you had noticed then that he looked at Jimin the same way. You wondered how you looked at them and if anyone had noticed.

The moon had no answers for you.

Two golden eyes were looking up at you from the garden, they shone like the fires that had been extinguished earlier. Namjoon tilted his head, inviting you down. A weird sense of deja vu took over. You had lived something very similar before, a night that had changed so much.

You shouldn’t go. You should stay where you were, alone and safe, away from fluttering heartbeats and dangerous warmth. But the night had its way of calling out the risky nature of people. The thrill was so much more enticing when darkness ruled.

Climbing down the stairs, you kept your steps quiet. You never knew which sound would wake up the hybrids. Namjoon was standing by the flower bushes close to the curtain of vines that lead into the forest. He was wearing a dark blue pair of pajama pants and a simple black T-shirt.

“What are you doing awake so late?” you whispered, like everything around you had ears.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

You shook your head. “I have trouble sleeping, remember?”

Namjoon had caught you a few times wandering the house at night, he was the only one who knew that a lot of nights sleep didn’t come to you willingly. His own nightly adventures were more complicated.

“Why are you awake?” you asked him again. “Please don’t tell me you smelled distress or something again or I’ll freak.”

Namjoon chuckled, you had missed it. Keeping your distance meant you only saw them for barely two hours every day. They all tried to not make too much noise with you in the constant mood of ‘tired and gloomy’.

“No, that’s not it.” He looked up, over the trees. “It’s the full moon.”

“You have to be kidding me. Do you turn into a wolf too?”

Namjoon raised his hands in surrender, his dimples on full display. “I’m joking, I’m joking. I couldn’t sleep either and I like being outside at night like this. It’s peaceful.”

You couldn’t disagree with that. There was something alluring about the quiet of the night. You would describe yourself more as a morning person than a night owl but both of them were true, waking up early for work then staying up late for it too.

“Are you alright?” The smile had fallen from his lips.

You squirmed under the intensity of his gaze. “I’m just tired, that’s all. Filming takes a lot out of me.”

Namjoon sighed. “Are you sure that’s all there is? You have been acting differently, did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

You knew they would notice but you had hoped they would think it was because of your work. Work did take a lot out of you but it also used to be the reason you were so much happier returning home.

“It has been going on for too long. You don’t spend any time outside your room or your office if it isn’t to eat. You are avoiding us. Jimin and Jungkook stopped scenting you because they think they’re making you uncomfortable.”

“It isn’t- They aren’t making me uncomfortable. I’m just tired from work and I don’t-” you tried to deny it but you fell short of excuses.

“You were working before too, but it wasn’t like this,” he pointed out. “You were tired then too. Some nights you came back and I could smell the exhaustion around you like a disease. But you smiled when Jimin and Jungkook ran up to you and didn’t let you go, you laughed at Jin laughing at his own jokes. You came to me when it got too loud here.” He pointed to your head.

“We weren’t filming then.” It was a weak attempt but you had to make it.

Namjoon regarded you carefully. Beams of moonlight got tangled in his gray hair turning it silver. He looked at home right there at that moment, close to the trees with the moon shining on him. He was every bit of magic you had ever witnessed.

“This started before filming did. I knew there was something wrong when you came back from the gala. Something happened there,” Namjoon concluded. “I should have come with you.”

You shook your head vigorously. Imagining him next to you while your mother spoke about hybrids like that was torture. “No, you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t have been with me.” You paused to compose yourself. “It wasn’t good, it was really bad actually. It wasn’t the gala itself, there some interesting people and… My mother…” You took a deep breath. “I don’t think I like my parents very much,” you admitted.

It was hard to say after years of half-hearted attempts at mending your relationship with them. All those years apart you had become very different people. You had trouble remembering what they were like before they left you in your aunt’s care. You couldn’t see any traces of them in yourself, you didn’t enjoy what they enjoyed, your interests and priorities, the way you viewed the world were very different.

In the past few days, you had grown to hate your mother’s voice in your head but you had a feeling that it had been much longer than that. The only difference was that before, you had been able to ignore it.

Namjoon came closer, his hand touching your palm waiting for you to make the first move. You took his hand in yours, laying your head on his chest. “That’s alright. You don’t have to like them, no one is forcing you to.”

“But they are my parents.”

He stroked your back gently. “It doesn’t matter, that isn’t enough of a reason.”

“They aren’t bad people.”

“They don’t need to be bad people for you to dislike them.”

You stayed like that for a few moments, taking in his presence. You had missed being in his arms so much, like an ache that couldn’t go away.

He stopped stroking your back, cupping your cheek and pulling back so you were facing each other. “I’m always here for you. I don’t care about anything else but seeing you happy. I’m here.”

“I missed you,” you admitted like it was a secret.

Namjoon smiled softly. “I missed you too.” His thumb caressed your lower lip. There was a tingling sensation all over your skin. “Can I?” he asked just like the very first time.

You let out a shuddering breath. “Should we be doing this?”

“Do you want to?” he asked carefully.

You bit your lip before nodding. He leaned down connecting your lips. It was soft and careful, all the longing and hurt of the past days poured into the kiss. You pulled him closer and he came willingly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

An awful laugh cut through the night. You pulled away from Namjoon like you had been burnt. Yoongi was one with the night, dark like a shadow.

“So this is it? Is this why you adopted them all? So you can have your pick when you’re in the mood?” The expression on his face was cruel, twisted up in disgust.

Namjoon growled, his sharp canines shinning in the moonlight. In that moment, Namjoon looked more dangerous than ever before. “Shut your mouth.”

“I see she has turned you into her dog. How long did it take to tame you?”

You held Namjoon back before he could lunge at the panther. You were afraid that if you let him go, there would blood on their clothes. “Don’t.”

Yoongi took a tense step forward. “That’s right, listen to your owner. Is that what she has turned all of you into? Her toys? Just for a roof over your head and food?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Namjoon growled. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that. You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Yoongi clenched his fists. There was anger and something else you couldn’t see in the night amidst your panic. “I knew it. I knew no one did what you did without any kind of agenda. Seems like the magazine was right, at least in part. You can’t fool me, even if you managed to fool everyone else.”

With that he was gone, like he was never there.

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand was still wrapped around Namjoon’s wrist and you couldn’t breathe. You counted in your head. One, two, three…

When Namjoon tried to touch your shoulder, you pulled away. “I’m going back to my room,” you said. Your voice sounded shaky to your own ears. Namjoon called out to you but you didn’t stop. He didn’t try to touch you again.

Please comment and reblog it motivates me to keep writing

#btscreatorscorner #castlebangtan #bts #bts hybrid au #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #poly!bts #poly!bts x reader #bts poly au #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts hurt/comfort

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 30

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 30 - This Venerable One Doesn't Want to Eat Tofu

"Hey, hey, did you hear? Elder Yuheng violated the sect rules. As punishment, he has to kneel in Yanluo Hall for three days."

In the morning class the next day, the disciples gathered on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to practice and meditate. In the end, they are all teenagers and 20-year-olds, and they couldn't just do as they were told. If a master wasn't paying attention, they'll start whispering and gossiping.

The news that Chu Wanning had been punished quickly spread.

The disciples who witnessed the beating yesterday were not shy about sharing the gossip with others.

"Wow, why are you guys finding out about it so late? Oh . . . So yesterday Elder Lucun took you up the mountain to collect night dew flowers? Well then - you guys really missed out on a lot! Yesterday evening, in the Qingtian Temple, there was flesh and blood flying everywhere. It was horrible. Elder Yuheng was beaten with more than two hundred strikes! More than two hundred strikes! Not a single one missed! There was no mercy!"

The disciple made a particularly exaggerated expression every time he said a new sentence. No need to mention the show he was putting on for all his junior brothers and sisters surrounding him.

"Do you actually count all two hundred strikes? Even a big man could be killed, not to mention Elder Yuheng. He couldn't stand it and passed out. This made our young master mad. He rushed in and fought with Elder Jielu. He said not to lay another finger on Elder Yuheng. Ah, that scene—"

His facial features were wrinkled up like a steamed bun. He squeezed his eyebrows. Finally, he stretched out a finger, swaying from side to side, and summed it up in three words:

"Tsk tsk task."

Immediately, a younger sister disciple paled: "What! Elder Yuheng fainted?"

"Young Master and Elder Jielu got into a fight?"

"It's no wonder I didn't see Elder Yuheng in this morning class . . . so pitiful . . . what crime did he commit?"

"I heard that he beat a civilian in a fit of rage."

". . ."

Such gossips drifted into Xue Meng's ears from time to time. Life-Death Peak's young master had completely inherited his shizun's temper, so he was very irritable. It was unfortunate that more than one person was gossiping about this. There were groups all over the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, all muttering "Elder Yuheng was punished" and so on. It made him feel so irritated, but there was nothing he could do.

In one corner was Xue Meng, veins bulging on his forehead, and in the other was Mo Ran, unable to stop yawning.

Xue Meng couldn't direct his anger anywhere else, so he viciously spat at Mo Ran: "The plan of the day relies on the morning. You dog, you're so lazy in the morning! What has Shizun been teaching you?"

"Huh?" Mo Ran said with sleepy eyes followed by another big yawn. "Xue Meng, that's enough. I can handle Shizun's lecturing. Who do you think you are? I'm your cousin. Behave yourself when you talk with your cousin. Don't be so rude."

Xue Meng said fiercely: "My cousin is a dog. Be whatever you want to be!"

Mo Ran laughed: "You're so mean. If you don't look out for your elder sect brother, think about how disappointed Shizun will be once he finds out."

"You still have the audacity to mention Shizun! Let me ask you, when he went to the Court of Discipline yesterday, why didn't you stop him?"

"MengMeng, he's a shizun. Yuheng of the Evening Sky, Beidou Immortal. What did you want me to do?"

Xue Meng was furious. He drew his sword, his sharp eyebrows furrowed angrily: "What the hell did you call me?!!!"

Mo Ran's grin stretched from ear to ear: "Be good, MengMeng. Sit down."

Xue Meng bellowed: "Mo Weiyu, I'll kill you!!"

Shi Mei was caught between the two, listening to their daily bickering. He couldn't help sighing. He silently held the edge of his forehead, trying to concentrate on reading his book: "The sun and the moon are poured in the pot* when the spiritual core is first formed. The way of heaven cannot be interpreted, and life and death are involved in the process. . ."

*(T/N: 日月壶中灌 - referring to the Daoist practice of leisurely inactiveness)

Three days passed in the blink of an eye and Chu Wanning's period of reflection came to an end.

According to the rules, the next thing he had to face was a three-month grounding period. During this period of time, he could not leave Life-Death Peak and needed to go to Mengpo Hall to do miscellaneous chores, clean the corridor pillars of Naihe Bridge, sweep the steps in front of the mountain gate, and so on.

Elder Jielu was anxious: "Elder Yuheng, to be honest, I don't think you should do these things. You are the best shizun of your generation. Doing this kind of dishwashing and floor cleaning . . . it feels wrong." He trailed off, leaving half the sentence unsaid --

The main reason is that the old man doubts whether you can even sweep floors, cook and wash clothes!

Chu Wanning didn't doubt himself at all and went to report to Mengpo Hall in an orderly manner.

All of Mengpo Hall, from the chief steward to the servant, was shocked to hear that Chu Waning was coming to do hard labour. They were terrified, as if they were approaching the enemy.

Chu Wanning, dressed in white, arrived in a flutter.

His handsome face was cold and calm, completely expressionless. If you added an auspicious cloud under his feet and a whisk between his arms, he would've looked like the picture-perfect immortal.

Manager Meng Potang felt very ashamed and uneasy. He was actually supposed to make such a beautiful man wash vegetables and cook.

Chu Wanning didn't have the self-image of being a beautiful man. He stepped into the kitchen and coldly swept his gaze over the crowd, who couldn't help but take a step back.

". . ." Chu Wanning was straightforward. "What should I do?"

The chief steward coyly pinched the edge of his hem and thought about what he should say. He cautiously went with: "How does this elder feel about washing vegetables?"

Chu Wanning said: "Okay."

The chief steward was greatly relieved. He originally thought that Chu Wanning led a very pampered life. He might be reluctant to do this kind of labour, however, all the other jobs were either dirty and tiring or required some skill. He was worried that Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to do a good job. Since Chu Wanning easily agreed to wash the vegetables, he didn't need to worry about it.

As it turns out, the chief steward was really naive.

There was a clear stream in front of Mengpo Hall. Chu Wanning went to the stream with a basket of green vegetables. He rolled up his sleeves and began to wash the vegetables.

This area is under the jurisdiction of Elder Xuanji. Occasionally a disciple of the Xuanji sect passed by. He saw Chu Wanning actually washing vegetables and was so scared that he couldn’t even get a word out. He rubbed his eyes three or four times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He said in astonishment: "Elder Yu-Yuheng -- good-good morning."

Chu Wanning raised his eyes: "Good morning."

Elder Xuanji's disciples shivered and fled.

". . ."

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk with them and continued with his business. He broke the leaves, washed them, and threw them back into the basket.

He washed them very carefully. He broke each vegetable leaf apart, repeatedly brushing them thoroughly. The consequence of that was -- come noon, the basket of vegetables still hadn't been washed.

The man waiting in the dining room was anxious, pacing around in circles: "What should we do? Why hasn't the elder come back yet? If he doesn't come back with the vegetables, how are we going to make the stir-fried beef and vegetables?"

The chief steward looked at the sun and said: "Forget it. Hurry, let's replace it with braised beef."

So, when Chu Wanning returned, Mengpo Hall had already served the beef. The stew was so crispy and flavourful that there was no need for vegetables at all. Chu Wanning frowned. He held his vegetables, rather unhappily, and coldly asked: "If you didn't want the vegetables, why did you make me wash them?"

The chief steward's hairs stood on end. He wiped the cold sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief and said something that he regretted: "That's not it. I was thinking you could make a pot of stewed tofu with vegetables?"

Chu Wanning had no expression. Still holding his vegetables, he tilted his head and pondered silently: ". . ."

The chief steward hurriedly said: "If you don't want to, that's alright--"

He hadn't even finished speaking before Chu Wanning asked: "Where is the tofu?"

Chief Steward: ". . ."

"Elder Yuheng, do you . . . know how to cook?"

Chu Wanning said: "I'm not completely ignorant. I'll give it a try."

At noon that day, all the disciples happily entered Mengpo Hall as usual in groups, looking for somewhere to sit. Then, they headed to the counter to get their food served.

There was no shortage of food on Life-Death Peak. The food had always been plentiful and today was no exception.

The braised beef was fatty and lean, the fish shreds were vibrant and rich, the farmhouse pork was golden and crispy, and the chopped pepper fish was red and tempting. The disciples rushed to grab their favourite foods, lining up around the hall, asking the chef to add a spoonful of sweet and sour pork ribs to them, pour some marinade on the rice, or add some spicy sauce.

The ones who always made it to the front of the line first were Elder Lucun's disciples. The little guy at the head of the line had a big pimple on his nose. All he had on his mind was some Mapo Tofu. He skillfully carried the wooden tray to the last counter without raising his eyes and said: "Shizun, I'd like a bowl of tofu."

The shizun, with pale, slender fingers, handed him a plate full of tofu.

However, it wasn't the Mapo Tofu he was familiar with. Instead, it was a plate of strange food with a charred black colour and indistinguishable ingredients.

The disciple was surprised: "What is that?"

"Tofu boiled with bok choy."

Mengpo Hall was full of people, so the disciple didn't pay attention to answering the other person's voice. He said angrily: "Are you an alchemist? Can you even call this tofu with vegetables? I don't want it. Take it back!"

While cursing, he glared at the shizun there. As a result, when he saw the person standing behind the counter, the disciple screamed in fright and almost knocked the tray over.

"Elder Yu-Yuheng!"

"Hmm."

The disciple was on the verge of tears: "No, that's not what I - I didn't mean that just now. I. . ."

"Since you're not eating it, I'll take it back." Chu Wanning said blankly, "Don't waste it."

The disciple stiffly picked up the plate, handed it to Chu Wanning then left with his tail between his legs.

In a short while, everyone knew that Elder Yuheng was standing at the last counter, so the originally lively Mengpo Hall was suddenly silent.

The disciples lined up like a pack of puppies, and they hurriedly grabbed their food, panicked. They went up to the last counter respectfully, greeted the elder, and stumbled away.

"Hello, Elder Yuheng."

"Mmm."

"Good day, Elder Yuheng."

"Good day."

"Elder Yuheng has worked really hard."

". . ."

The disciples were very disciplined and were acting with an abundance of caution, so Chu Wanning accepted the tense greetings from each disciple, but no one dared try his pot of boiled tofu with green vegetables.

Slowly, the line was getting shorter and the food in front of other shizuns was almost gone. Only Chu Wanning still had a pot full of food. The pot of vegetables was completely cold and untouched.

Chu Wanning's face didn't waver, but his heart was conflicted. He had washed them all morning. . .

At that point, his three disciples showed up. Xue Meng was still in silver-blue light armour, refreshing getup. He bounced over with excitement: "Shizun! How are you? Does your wound hurt?"

Chu Wanning was very calm: "It doesn't hurt."

Xue Meng: "Well, that's good."

Chu Wanning glanced at him and suddenly asked: "Do you eat tofu?"

Xue Meng: ". . ."

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #danmei novel #danmei #mo ran #chu wanning #ranwan

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mileyjassie · 3 years

Text

"Paint me"

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader

Genre: Suggestive & Fluff

Word count: 3.4K

Synopsis: You're enjoying your time painting in your room and he's enjoying seeing you doing it, but, now he wants the attention to himself, so he asks you to paint on his skin.

I just want you to love me like I'm one of your creations.

Paint me.

See me.

Feel me.

Tranquility you felt the moment you sat down, worries always forbidden to show up, in the room where you slept every night there was nothing but soft music not too loud and paints kept in boxes next to your tall stool, a big white canvas with few color strokes being created with the sketches.

You took turns between brushes trying to find what was most essential for each detail, mixing colors that covered the tip of your fingers and consequently soiled the material of the brushes.

You could repeat the usual, right? You asked yourself, not noticing very much the boy's restrained but unquiet presence.

That's when you realized it, you came back to reality in a blink of eye.

So silent, observant and obedient he remained, sitting on the edge of your bed, shoulders slightly raised, his intense gaze lurking over you and your habit of forgetting where you were.

"Are you out of creativity?... Why did you stop?" He asked kind of low key, pressing his hands on the covers when your eyes met.

You shook your head, pretending to need to do some retouching, turning your face back to him.

"Are you bored? I noticed you're anxious... you were looking at me so intensely, I ended up noticing... do you need anything?..."

His eyes fled, embarrassed almost automatically, swallowing hard as his lips parted in a natural impulse of not knowing how to respond.

"I need to ..." he replied quietly, making you slightly intrigued.

You tipped your head, wanting his eyes back.

"What do you need?"

"You ..." he murmured again, giving the look you were waiting to return to you. You closed your hands in weak fists instinctively, to hide the effect of his masked intentions on you.

His voice shook, taking his words back quickly.

"I want you to pay attention on me..." He corrected himself, removing his palms from the covers to shyly join them together. "I'm feeling lonely... Please, give me attention."

You were quiet for a few seconds, completely absorbing the sounds that played one after the other, all calm and relaxing.

The room was cozy because it was recently air-conditioned, the thin curtains that hid the glass doors on the balcony allowed the rose-pink light to pass through, making the room look soft.

"What do you want me to do?"

His extremely dark eyes reflected an immediate gleam, looking hopeful and a little anxious, he got up without much euphoria, going towards another stool, placing it in front of you, next to the canvas on which you were trying to draw.

You both held on the smile as you started a closer conversation for the first time of the day, having his knees touching yours.

Taeyong opened his mouth slightly, inhaling before proceeding.

"I miss you, I confess," he said, leaving his palms flat on his thighs. "Even tho, I still don't want you to stop painting, because I know you like it a lot, as well as I like to see it."

You clutched your brushes in your hands, longing for his words more happily than when you were painting lifeless colors in a scenario not yet invented.

"Put your painting aside. Use me, I want to be your canvas. Paint on me, draw on my skin." Taeyong asked with conviction, a sincere desire that brought warmth to your cheeks.

His hands came off his thighs, spread open in front of you, asking for the initiative.

You looked at his palms, wanting to touch them before they return to his lap, but Taeyong didn't do that, didn't take them away from you.

You slid your gaze to his impenetrable eyes again, seeing the patience he always kept for you.

You held his hand, noticing an almost imperceptible smile on his face, he seemed pleased to be able to be there, to feel the cool, white paint cooling his clean, smooth palm.

"What are you going to draw?..." he murmured amused, bringing an intimate air that until that moment you tried to avoid.

"Let's find out..." You teased without malice, already knowing what forms to use to draw the little waves of the sea that would soon be completed when his other hand been ended.

Songs that played softly at a medium volume previously tranquilized the quiet moment, but then made your proximity a little awkward.

Taeyong looked at your face whenever he let his curious eyes leave his palms, his eyes weighing and making his presence be felt in a way that you could not avoid for a long time.

It was not a weird embarrassment, but it did bring a little shyness, both pretending not to show knowledge about the tension that the suggestively romantic music had created in the room.

Taeyong sometimes brushed his thumb lightly over yours, pulling out a quick smile at one time or another, hiding a timid and small smile when you slid your fingers over his wrist.

You were almost finished painting in his other hand when his knees approached your thighs, one on the inside and the other on the outside, sitting closer.

You looked up at the boy's face, looking him watch you closely.

"Tell me it's not over yet..." he said quietly, waiting for the answer, you nodded, giving him a "yes", watching his eyebrows squeeze over his upset eyes.

Before saying anything, Taeyong had already looked at his hands again, waiting for you to finish painting the blue waves that completed when his palms came together side by side, softening his previously "frustrated" expression.

When you took the brush from his palms, the two of them were placed face up on your knees, his face approached yours, chin lifting slightly when his eyes relaxed.

"My hands are not the only part of my body that you can paint." He smirked, inviting you tantalizingly to touch his face.

You took your fingers to his forehead, brushing the bangs off his face, combing it back, his dark eyebrows showing, his entire face uncovered and clean for any drawing you wished to make.

"What do you want me to draw on you?..."

His eyes closed slowly, leaning a little closer, just enough to feel your breath against his face. He waited like that for an instant, meeting your lips with his, sealing a long kiss.

His mouth detached from yours, his deep voice responding calmly. "Do what you want, I just want you to paint my face with care, just as if I were one of your canvases..."

He smiled gently, pretending to give you one more kiss, leaving the proximity again. You disapproved his attitude, hearing his low laugh echo and his hands turn to run the fingers down the sides of your thighs, murmuring an apology.

"Don't screw up my drawings..." You asked quietly, receiving a positive wave from him, his palms avoiding touching your legs, still letting his long fingers rest on the spot.

You slid your index finger across his lower lip, ignoring the leap from one of his eyebrows to give a short kiss on his chin, looking for a thin brush, reaching for your palette to bathe the tip of the instrument in green paint, tracing a thin, slightly curved line below the scar mark under his eye.

Taeyong noticed the place of choice, looking a little surprised and curious, his eyes twinkling in awe at something he didn't know yet, but that was enough to make him happy.

"Is it going to be a rose?... I know it is." He smiled short, following with his eyes from the paints to the hand going back to his face.

You stated with a nod, a small, proud smile rising on your face at the boy's satisfaction. You dyed that deep and simple space in red, making other small stems on his face, completing them with small flowers of colors that balanced in their own tones on that skin slightly ablush by the light that came into the room, changing tones without haste when passing of minutes.

Taeyong smiled softly, closing his eyes as he lifted his chin a little, helping you by letting the brush go down his jaw, allowing you to continue drawing lost leaves that "fell" from the flowers made on his face.

"You're looking beautiful..." You dared to praise him, gaining confidence with each new trace created in his almost golden-pink skin, as if this new canvas gradually became more and more yours.

The curve of his mouth marked a roguish smile, then he made a sound in the back of his throat, answering your comment with that sly grunt.

You looked at his neck, touching the sides with your fingertips and leaving wet kisses in the clean spaces between the still wet streaks of red, orange and pink petals on his jugular, receiving long purrs, his head tipping back to receive more of the attention he was getting.

"Before continuing..." He murmured slowly, lowering his head to point at his own lips. "Kiss me some more..." He asked accommodated, waiting for you to approach.

You looked at his mouth, leaning in to obey him, clenching your fists so you wouldn't stain him with your dirty fingers, receiving a small disapproving grunt in the middle of the kiss, his tongue meeting yours when his fingers came out of your thighs to grab your fingers carefully, staining the bottom of his cheek and down below the jaw with the trail of your multicolored fingerprints.

You mumbled any meaningless word, burning on your cheeks, deciding to leave your hands on his jaw as it pleased him more, and consequently you too. His gesture was more than tempting, it was significantly attractive.

You murmured weakly again, hoping he would choose when the kiss should end, he murmured back, slowly shaking his head negatively, holding your wrists.

You pulled away, ending the kiss with a little sound of your lips leaving his. Taeyong leaned minimally to go after the contact he had lost, his astonished eyes finding yours.

"Do you want to finish already?..." You asked the distant-minded boy, waiting for his negative nod. "I still want to paint."

"But I don't want to stop doing this..." He held your hands around his neck, the paint already dry and not bothering him to be so careful.

"I will not stop doing what you want." You removed the strands of his hair that fell on his face again, stroking his brow. "Be a little more patient and I won't stop you anymore."

"You'll have to be good for me." He demanded with innocent eyes, enjoying the caresses on his eyebrows.

"I will be. Just as you're being now for me." You ran your fingers down the side of his face, brushing your thumbs over his ears, outlining the pink area.

You were surprised by a quick kiss followed by another, after that he behaved on his tall wooden stool, brushing his knees against your thighs.

"What part of my body do you want to paint this time?..." His eyes went back to being intense, watching you confident enough to raise his eyebrows slightly, biting his lower lip for an instant in a malicious smile.

You laughed with what he did, letting a barely noticeable smile grow on your face, dropping your fingers to the collar of his white, partially unbuttoned shirt.

Taeyong watched you unbutton a few more buttons, looking anxious for every part of his skin that appeared more.

You slid the white fabric down his shoulders, making the folded bar remain a few inches below.

"You look extremely sexy now." You confessed for him to hear your thoughts in a good tone, his hands came together, his shoulders shrunk very little. "I know you like having me drawing flowers all over your face and neck, Taeyong... You must be feeling very handsome right now..." You painted the cold violet ink on his collarbone in order to continue drawing in his body what made you feel good. "Isn't?" You looked up, wanting your answer.

"I-I am." He stammered, losing that seductive look that teased you, just looking like a victim of your comments.

"Why do you like it so much?..." You asked, pretending to be intrigued by a secret he was keeping from you. "Your ears must be warm for a reason..."

"I feel like you want me more." He whispered, swallowing when you kissed the space between his collarbones. "I feel more attractive..."

"You're right."

He looked at you quickly, wanting to hear some confession he didn't expect.

"I didn't think you could be more beautiful than you already are" You made a brief path of violets, like a crown of petals, standing up when you were done "But look at you" You pulled the air between your teeth, amazed by the sight you were having.

You went to your desk, looking for a camera that rested there next to other materials, returning and finding his embarrassed eyes, taking a picture of the work of art that you had sat in front of you.

"Can I keep this with me?" You asked in a sly tone, approaching when he took a long time to answer, but ended up nodding positively. "You're lovely. " You plunged your fingers through his hair, combing his bangs back, pulling a few strands lightly to get a pleasant expression on his face in return. "Can I take some more? Will you let me?..." You mumbled close to his ear, earning an obedient nod and a low growl, capturing more than satisfied pictures of his face, neck and collarbone, taking the opportunity to take pictures of the entire boy, since the drawings were not what completely enchanted you.

You lifted his chin, grabbing a few more bunch of hair, softening his scalp while giving him one more lazy, sticky kiss.

"Let's go to the floor." You whispered against his lips, pulling away.

Taeyong watched you walk away from him, his pupils running from you to the floor, maybe a little nervous, maybe a little confused, you could never really know what he was feeling.

He stood up, approaching without haste.

"I thought you still wanted to paint..."

You approached after hearing precipitated deductions from him, pulling him without force by the clothes, kissing the naked part of his chest.

"Sit down, my love, we're not stopping." You held his shoulders, making him bend down to his knees, raising your eyebrows when you found his concentrated expression, a blush appearing on his face. "Are you enjoying this?" You tipped your head, grabbing him by the hair.

"What are you going to do?..." He ignored your question in a low tone after a brief gasp, causing you to smile at his submissive position.

You raised the camera, also ignoring his question. "Do a shell with your hands." You asked, just seeing his eyebrows squeezing. "Ask me for something, beg for something..." Taeyong didn't answer, but did exactly what you asked, creating an innocent face, a clear provocation of a wolf dressed in lambskin.

You captured the photo just the way you wanted of the drawing that was lasting, offering him a deal. "I'm going to sit on your hips, Taeyong... I'm going to take that golden ink I have and make laurels on your shoulders..." You walked over to the painting next to you, taking the small container with the golden liquid, returning to the boy on his knees. "If you groan while I rub myself against you, you'll have to let me take as many pictures of your body as I want. The way I want to."

His lips left unanswered, him searching in your face for whatever was your intentions with this game.

"If I don't... groan..." He moved his fingers up the sides of your legs, placing his hands on the backs of your thighs, bringing you close to him. "What will you give me?"

You stroked his ear, analyzing each earring he wore.

"What do you want, Taeyong?..."

His long fingers found your wrists, taking you down, making you sit on his lap.

"Start." He said at last, dragging his nose into your neck, taking the camera out of your hand.

You slid your fingers down his shoulder, painting the skin a little after the curve of his neck, feeling his already heavy breath touch against your skin.

His hands landed on your waist, waiting for any movement, letting his head lie against you when he realized you weren't going to move, letting out a disapproving grunt. "Don't be unfair to me." He caught his breath instantly, feeling your closeness when your hips rubbed slowly against his.

It was good, yes, it was all very good.

His skin was exposed, the drawings painted gently on his face, neck and collarbone. The golden leaves making the way to his shoulder shine. The colors of the sunset toning his figure. The marks of your colored fingers staining his jaw. The good feeling that was being created between the intimate contact over the clothes.

His sigh woke you up.

When you realized, you had stopped painting him and were almost hugging the man who was holding you tightly in you rhythmic hips.

You removed his face hidden from your chest, watching his teeth tighten on his lower lip, his eyes glued to yours, his lower lip freeing itself from his teeth and turning red automatically, making a little pout because of the pressing of your hips, provocation that almost convinced you to give on his pout a kiss if you didn’t know he had done it out of pleasure.

His sighs and little gasps became louder and more daring, and he knew he was catching up with you, it was on purpose, and you couldn't even penalize him for it. "Honey, have you given up yet?..." He smiled rogue, tilting his head to the side, showing his shoulder that was still clean.

You groaned, stopping little by little, almost making him moan over it. "As you wish." You whispered, holding his scruff to keep his head in place, using the other hand to finish the golden laurels, even though that hand was a little more difficult to use.

"You don't have to stop..." he whispered.

"I didn't stop." You whispered back, continuing the long and slow movements.

You received pecks on your collarbone, going up to your jaw, one of his hands coming out of your hips to touch the wrist of your hand in his neck, making you feel the cold wetness of his hand melting in your wrist, seeing it blue.

Before you could said anything, Taeyong took your hand, leading it to the golden paint container on the floor and, then taking it to his breastplate, messing from under his collarbones to the middle of his chest with your gold fingers.

You blushed hard as you watched him do it, getting his hands wet on your cheeks, his palms marking you in blue, pulling your face up to his, sliding his tongue across your lips, trying to start another kiss as he rubbed against you.

You were in silent, feeling his moist fingers gently squeeze your face in order to caress you, his bold kiss making you both a little more euphoric. You stopped moving, hoping to see how far he would go alone, yielding to his need for closeness and leaving only a button stuck to his shirt, lying against his body until his back was on the floor.

Your breaths met excessively until the kiss ended, so you rested your palms on the floor, pulling the skin of his neck between your lips, listening to him hiss with the hickey.

"You ruined my drawing..." You lamented in his ear, giving him another hickey below his ear.

"It was never the intention, my love..." He murmured softly, stopping moving his hips because of yours. You placed your hands on his belly, slightly raising the piece of cloth that was still connected by a single button, moving away from his neck to continue the movements.

His head fell back, his hair dancing and changing direction as he smiled with his lip stuck between his teeth, eyes closed and eyebrows serene.

You watched his expressions in silence, moving your clean hand from his stomach to his chest, reaching his neck, wrapping your warm fingers around his throat without force. Taeyong narrowed his eyes with furrowed eyebrows, then squeezed them tightly, letting out a spontaneous groan when the stimulation down the hips became faster and stronger.

Taeyong gasped in surprise, looking for you with an almost plaintive look.

"Don't look at me like that..." You asked with pity, taking your hand from his neck, having it immediately held by him, him trying to keep it in place.

"Don't do this to me..." He murmured hoarsely, propping himself up on his elbows, asking for a kiss you didn't deny giving him.

"You need to give me what you promised, my love." You said, getting up from his lap, taking a few steps back to watch him better. "Stay like that, will you?" You took the camera back, seeing him embarrassed. "You're not doing anything more than posing for me... You know that, right?"

Taeyong stated with a nod, partly sheepish, partly intimidating, his eyes changing his mood in a snap of fingers. He raised his knee, leaning on one arm, resting his palm between his thighs, hiding the volume in his pants with his forearm.

You moved halfway between his knees, spreading his legs apart. "Get your arm out of there." Taeyong raised an eyebrow, but obeyed, propping himself up on his elbows again, tilting his head to the side.

"Just hurry up with this..." He said teasingly, softening his expression when he brushed his foot on your ankle. "We have a lot more to do."

150 notes · View notes

kinsurou · 4 years

Text

After Class

Pairings: Takami Keigo x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+), No Quirks! AU, Sex in a classroom, Reader is a virgin.

Here's my very first piece of smut, please fasten your seatbelts and enjoy the show!

It takes all of your willpower to hold back the pent-up rage growing inside you like a fire doused in gasoline, everyone in the classroom can see the poker face you're trying to maintain is dangerously close to break and let out a horrifying monster called your temper.

Everyone except for the teacher can see you're nearly at your limit, there's an enormous urge to punch someone in the face that keeps growing, and that someone just happens to be the same woman giving you an earful in front of the whole class.

"You should be paying more attention during class instead of being on your phone!" She turns back towards the rest of her students. "Let this be an example to all of you! Don't be like your classmate here!"

She slams her bottle of water in your desk, for dramatic purpose, and finally, she walks back to her own desk, feeling satisfied with her actions. How in the world did someone like her become a college teacher in the first place is a question you'll never get a proper answer to.

There's actually a reason why she's been treating you like this for the past two weeks. A reason that just happens to walk inside the classroom a few minutes after the bell rings, he's carrying a stack of papers in hand, accompanied by a lazy grin stretched all over his face, but that expression quickly shifts to confusion and concern once he feels the tension inside the classroom.

"Sheesh, what's with the long faces guys?"

The teacher's mood flips in an instant. She starts greeting him with a big smile, and there's a not so subtle glint in her eyes that makes many, if not all of her students, cringe in repulse.

"Hi there Takami! Now this is a surprise, is Tanaka not coming today?"

"Good morning to you too Ms. Ito." He replies. "No, professor Tanaka called in sick, but he asked me to watch over the kids for today and hand out their exams. Though judging by everyone's mood, I'm guessing something happened?"

Ito just waves off his question nonchalantly. "I was just talking to everyone not to follow their classmate's example," She throws a dirty look at you from the corner of her eye. "Can you believe the nerve of this girl? Being on her phone in the middle of my lecture? Some people are just completely ungrateful when it comes to their education!"

In the meantime, you're biting down on your lower lip with such force, it's almost a surprise there's not a sight of blood, you're trying so very hard to ignore her snide remarks, all in favor of taking notes from the whiteboard in front of the classroom.

The only thing you were to blame for was forgetting to put your phone on Silent, otherwise she wouldn't have batted an eye when the device rang with a text from your mother. And yet all this woman wanted was an excuse to make you look bad in front of everyone, she just happened to find one at the right moment.

"He's so looking your way right now˜. "Your best friend whispers from your right, with that teasing tone you know all too well.

"Shut.up." You hiss, not really in the mood for another earful after the little stunt with the teacher.

You don't bother paying attention while the blond's gaze lingers on you, disregarding the woman's attempt to get the spotlight with ease, leaving her desperate to make another futile attempt until she finally realizes her class is over. All she can do to keep the remains of her dignity is walk out of the classroom with a huff and a sour attitude.

You feel pity for the students in her next class, they haven't even started the lesson yet and are going to have to deal with the human equivalent of a Tasmanian devil. You could almost listen to her yelling from across the campus already.

Takami Keigo, also nicknamed "Hawks" by his friends, is a teacher's assistant at your college. Older than the majority of your class only by two years, and yet he behaves in such a professional manner with everyone that is hard to believe he's actually a student as well.

It's hard not to like him when he's so chill with everyone, for even in cases like this, when he's asked to take over after a teacher's unavailable, Hawk's only assignment is to stay with the class during the whole period. This time however, he comes carrying a stack of papers.

"Alright kids," He starts, just to be interrupted by one of your classmates.

"Seriously Hawks? You're not that older than us!" They're obviously joking around with him, it's hard to be serious when this guy is around.

"Respect your elders kid!" Laughter fills the whole classroom, dissipating the tension in the air like it's nothing but mist.

Everyone but you is laughing their hearts out, until Hawks points out the contents of the papers.

"As I was saying, Your teacher had to attend some personal business, but he asked me to hand out your test results, and let me tell you guys one thing..." The following silence leaves everyone on edge. "All of you did an amazing job! I don't think I've ever seen so many good notes in a single classroom!"

Everyone starts yelling at him comically. All of you know just how much he enjoys teasing people, but somehow you can't ever get used to his teasing, and he knows it, it's why he's always abusing of his little tendency.

Anybody could agree he's the total opposite of Miss Ito. A 27-years old teacher who's always arguing with her own students for something as insignificant as yawning. Someone who apparently forgot the rule where it says it's strictly forbidden for a teacher to date a student.

That doesn't seem to stop her from throwing hints at a small group of guys, each from a different classroom, and it most certainly doesn't stop her from trying to flirt with the new teacher's assistant.

Hawks starts walking through each row of desks, handing out the papers one by one, each time he gives somebody their sheet of paper you can hear him telling everyone they did a good job.

Once he hands out your own test, his fingers brush against your own with subtleness, sending a small shiver all the way down your arms.

"Good job kid, You had one of the best grades out of the whole class. Your teacher said the same thing too, y'know." The way he says those words with such a reassuring energy makes all the anger inside you leave, no longer the urges to smack somebody tempts you to go looking for Miss Ito and shove your papers up her nose.

All you can muster is a small smile at the guy standing in front of you.

He smiles in return and walks to the next row of seats, ready to hand out the rest of the results.

It's only after he leaves your sight that you see it. A small post it note at the corner of your exam, and judging by the neat handwriting, it's a note from Hawks.

"Meet me after class, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Just when in the world did he write this? You didn't even notice when he put the tiny piece of paper in your test.

...Were you in trouble for something?

"Look Y/N! I've never had such a high grade before!" Your friend's voice snaps you out of the small paranoic fit. Turning towards him, your eyes widen in shock after seeing the results, and even you are surprised by how well he did on his exam.

"What the hell F/N? You got a perfect score!" You can't help the smile of pride that comes out, proud at F/N for getting such a good grade. He wasn't the worst student, but he wasn't the best either, so seeing the perfect score in his paper was something worth celebrating for.

The rest of the class goes by pretty quickly. Most of the time is spent reviewing the results of your exams with each other, and organizing future study sessions for the subjects you happened to have the most trouble with.

The loud ringing of the bell indicates the end of the last period. And with that everyone can finally leave for the day.

Except for you...

"We have to celebrate this! What do you say we go to that pizza place we love?" F/N stands from his chair to stretch his whole body, you wince at the loud "POP!" coming from his back.

"Maybe tomorrow? There's something I need to do first..." Your eyes wander back to the little pocket in your bag, where the little neon yellow note is carefully tucked away.

"Alright, I'll call you tonight then! See you on Saturday!" With that he walks out of the room along with the rest of your classmates. You're slowly putting all your stuff inside your bag, and it's until the last book is neatly stored alongside the rest of the notebooks and pens that you look up from your seat.

And he's sitting on top of the teacher's desk, Hawks keeps staring at you with something unknown deep inside those amber eyes of his, something lingers in that look and it makes you feel weird on the inside.

But you managed to keep calm before he starts talking.

"That was quite the ruckus back there, uh?" He chuckles, eyes closed as he leans back on the wooden surface.

All you can do is sigh in annoyance at the reminder of your teacher's words.

"Do you want me to remind you why she's being a bitch to me in the first place?" Your mind is faster than your brain, a hand shots up to cover it in shame once you realize what you just called her in front of an unofficial staff member.

But his laughter only becomes louder at your words. Hawks is literally shaking in place, small tears prickling his eyes and head tilted back.

"Easy there, I'm fully aware of it and I take the full blame for it."

He knows it's his fault Miss Ito hates you right now, all because the blond haired male was being friendly with you the other day. The same guy she had laid her eyes on. If there's something you all know is that when Miss Ito gets her eyes on someone single, approaching them is like a death sentence.

Sadly you became one of her targets by pure accident. And now you have to suffer the consequences of something unnecessary.

"But look at the bright side," He goes on. "She can't really lower your grades for no reason, count the fact you have one of the highest grades in her class and it'll look suspicious if you ask me. So for now, just keep up the good work."

You take another look at his features while getting up from your chair. His eyes hold nothing but sincerity, the easy going mood as he stands up from his seat is still evident.

But once he starts getting closer everything changes in the blink of an eye.

He's standing right in front of you, his arms caging your body between his own and your desk. The smell of his cologne quickly invading your nostrils. A subtle combination between citrus and musk that seems to fit Hawks perfectly, it's an alluring and addictive smell that makes you want to lean forward and breath said scent deeply.

That snaps you back to reality, and causes you to look up at him in the eye. A hue of crimson crawling its way up from your neck to your whole face. The whole room's beginning to spin all around you from the nerves struggling to take control.

"W-What are you doing?" The feigned confidence makes him rise an eyebrow in amusement, the glint in his eyes still present as he takes another look at you. His gaze pierces its way into your soul with such ease that it makes it hard to keep eye contact with the man trapping you between his arms.

"I think I should have been more direct from the very beginning..." He leans closer, warm breath hitting your face, making another course of goosebumps run down through your body in big waves.

There's a small and not so foreign feeling between your thighs, making the situation ten times worse.

You know what that feeling is, you just haven't felt anything like it before...

"I don't think I've ever met someone like you. Someone as hard working," His cheek nudges your own as he leans further and inhales your own scent, your bodies are pressed against each other with such an overwhelming amount of strength for someone as lean as Hawks.

"Someone as strong..."One of his hands caress your hip, making you gasp at the sensation of his hands brushing against your skin despite the layer of clothing covering your body.

"Someone as attractive." He's enamoured by the way your face turns away from him, eyes closed tightly from something as simple as his touch.

"If I'm being honest with you..." That same hand caressing your hip goes up, trapping your chin in between his fingers before turning it back to face him, his thumb skims over the outline of your lower lip with such a tender touch, it's enough to make you open your eyes to look at him.

That glint on his eyes is still in there, but this time, with everything happening right now, it all makes sense. This time you can tell just what that glint really means.

"I want you."

It meant lust.

His lips come crashing down on yours filled with never ending passion and lust. Hawks leans in closer, wrapping his arms around your hips as he ravishes your mouth. The warmth of his body makes you feel dizzy, like an intense fever that could make you hallucinate at any moment.

Never in your life has somebody kissed you like this before, with an intensity that makes all of your senses malfunction.

The kiss becomes more desperate as he pulls your body even closer. His touches makes your body give up as your legs begin trembling from dizziness, making him groan in satisfaction at the way you react to his strokes, and before your legs can actually give up on you and make you fall on the floor like an idiot, your own hands grip tightly on his arms for support.

When your limbs makes contact with his biceps, you realize just how fit Hawks actually is. The muscles under your palms feel hard and strong, you can almost feel every single movement as he flexes.

He pulls away soon after, smirking in satisfaction at the dizzy look on your face. You're panting heavily, eyes closing again and face flushing into a deeper shade of crimson than before, and that was only from his kisses.

The mere sight is enough for the growing tent in his pants to become harder, making your own eyes go wide at the realization of what the hard feeling against your leg actually is.

"H-Hawks...Wait...!" You can barely make a proper sentence, still high from everything going on. "I, We can't, you're..."

"I am...?" His teasing doesn't seem to stop. he too, is panting hard before kissing your cheek tenderly and slowly, slowly starts to kiss all the way down from the skin on your face all the way down to the jaw, eventually he reaches the junction between your neck and shoulder, where he starts nibbling softly.

Oh god, please don't leave a mark.

It takes all of your strength to push him away just a few inches. He's not even upset by the gesture, half lidded eyes staring at you intensely.

You finally catch your breath after a few minutes. Glaring at him with more embarrassment than anything else.

"You, are the teacher's assistant. Is it really okay for you to be doing this with a student?!"

All he does is give you a nonchalant look, followed by a smirk that leaves you frozen in place.

Is this guy really the same one that helped you out the other day? The same one that's always helping out everyone around campus with a smile on his face?

He touches your face affectionately once again, before answering your question.

"Yes, you're right, I am a teacher's assistant. But there's something you should know about it..." His eyes don't move from your swollen and bruised lips, with traces of sweet lip gloss slightly smeared on the side.

"Considering I don't have any power over the student's grades, there's really no problem for me to date one y'know?" Hawk's once again making direct eye contact with you, this time the lust in his eyes is more intense than before.

"Besides, be honest with me. You hate Miss Ito, and to be honest so do I."

You can't help blinking twice at his remark, nothing but silence fills the room.

"She may be a bright teacher, but the way she treats her students is unacceptable. That, and there's the fact she won't stop bothering me during free periods." He steps back slightly, pulling you by the wrists in the direction of the teacher's desk, right on the spot where he was sitting before.

"Wouldn't you like to get a bit of revenge on her? Just imagine, being fucked in the very same spot where she grades your exams..."

His words leave you thinking deeply, and you're so deep in thought about it you don't even realize what's going on for a second until you feel his strong arms lifting your body with ease.

You never thought you'd be doing something like this, but here you are, sitting over the desk where your teachers give their lessons, all while one of the hottest men in campus is about to do such depraved things to your body.

"So...What's it gonna be?" His hands are caressing your knees, rubbing circles on the tender skin as he anticipates an answer. If looks could kill his would have burned you a long time ago from the fiery passion behind it.

Your own hands grab on the sides of his face, pulling him closer into a sloppy but swift kiss before you look him in the eye once again.

"Just be gentle, alright...?" The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. Hawk's eyes once again have a mischievous glint deep inside.

"I promise you, by the time we're done here," He kisses your jaw softly. "You'll never want someone to be 'gentle' with you again."

He leans forward for another kiss, and this time, you eagerly kiss him back, the hands resting on your knees pry them apart slowly, giving him enough space to stand in between them.

The heat of his body, along with that intoxicating cologne of his makes the experience even more satisfying, small moans escape your mouth as his hands go under your shirt to caress the skin underneath, his touch feels so...delightful on your skin, almost good enough to make you forget about all of your troubles and dive into an euphoria induced dream.

His hands stop at the clasp of your bra, meticulously unclasping the lingerie, you can feel the fabric becoming loose at the front, but he makes no movement to fully take off your top.

Instead his hands just leave their place at your back to pull both the top and the piece of lingerie until it's all ruffled over your neck, he pulls away from the kiss to look down, and it leaves you flustered when he won't stop staring at your bust with intensity.

"...What?" You ask with embarassment, and he can't help laughing at your reaction.

"Am I not allowed to enjoy the view?"

"Stop it Hawks!" He gives you a look full of authority, it makes your body tremble in arousal, the dampness between your legs is proof enough of the effect this guy has on your body.

"Stop calling me that, and start calling me Keigo."

"But I-"

"Would you prefer to call me 'Daddy' instead?"

You give him an incredulous look, face once again flushed by his words.

"Keigo you son of aaaahhhh-" The words die in your throat, replaced by a sharp intake of breath instantly after he engulfs one nipple with his mouth, causing another wave of shivers to shake your whole body to the core.

You try to fight them back, but the whimpers come out victorious and escape through your lips in a rush. It makes Hawks...No, Keigo, smirk victorious, but it's hard to take him serious when he has one of your boobs in his mouth.

He releases the wet bud with a small "pop!", and caress the tip with his index finger, the friction makes another whimper come out, once again making his smirk confidently.

"Look at you. We're just getting to the good part, and you're already a moaning, trembling mess." He looks down in between you legs with a hungry, predatory stare that could make anyone shrink before him.

"It's a good thing you choose to wear a skirt today."

A hand dips down under said piece of clothing, rubbing a damp spot underneath with their middle finger, right where your still clothed and damp slit throbs, craving more of the deliciously immoral graze.

Fuck...

You can't hold back anymore, and you don't want to either.

You're about to have sex in a classroom.

YOUR CLASSROOM.

"What is it princess?" Keigo growls in satisfaction, enjoying how you're finally starting to let those sweet moans out without a care in the world. "Something you'd like to say? Can't say I'm not enjoying seeing you fight back all those sweet moans."

Someone could walk in any minute now, Miss Ito could be walking in any moment as well, but nothing matters anymore.

All you want is for him to take your body however he pleases.

You pull on the collar of his shirt, pulling him into another sloppy and fervent kiss. He really like this new side of you. Always be wary of the quiet ones they say.

His hands sneaks inside the panties, two fingers going deep inside your velvet walls with a slow pace. The friction is so addicting, and you can't help it when your hips move against your will, craving for more.

"Keigo..." You're panting, eyes clouded with desire. "Please take me, I can't wait any longer!"

That's all he needed to hear. But just to make sure you'll enjoy every single moment...

"As much as I'd love to be inside you already." His fingers start picking up speed, you yelp in surprise at the sudden increase of his movements. "I want you enjoy every single part of this. After all, it's your first time, isn't it?"

Between the nerves of being caught and his ministrations you can barely think straight, but your brain still manages to process his words, and it leaves you surprised.

"How?" This time he gives you a tender smile before kissing your temples.

"The way you kept trembling when I got closer? How you kept hesitating? It was pretty obvious, princess." Your walls clench around his fingers, he could tell you're pretty close, so he pulls back his fingers, leaving you hot, bothered and whining at the sudden lack of friction. "But don't you worry a pretty little hair, I'll take good care of you."

His arms hook themselves under your thighs, pulling them forward until his clothed and still throbbing girth brushes against your soaked pussy. The friction feels so fucking good. You can barely wait to feel the rest of it.

"Oh! right!" His hand goes inside his back pocket, and pulls out a small, blue package.

"...Do you always carry one of those around with you?" You squint at him in suspiciousness, and he gives you a sheepish grin in response.

"Nah, the nurse gave me a handful of them as a joke." Keigo quickly unbuckles his jeans, and lowers them along with his boxers just enough for his hard cock to spring out, it's average in length, but it makes up for it with thickness. Its head is also a prominent, reddish shade, throbbing and dribbling with precum.

You couldn't take you eyes off from it, and Keigo couldn't say he didn't like the attention.

He decides to put on a show, putting on the condom at such a slow pace to tease you for a bit. Seeing you squirm due the lack of body contact almost makes him come right on the spot.

Good thing the little piece of latex already comes with lube, not that he'd need much judging by the mess you're making below.

"Are you ready?" He asks, pulling aside your panties and resting his member over your sweet core. As desperately as he wants to pound you into the wooden surface, he'd rather double check, make sure you're completely comfortable with everything about to happen.

And make the experience so good, that you'll eventually come back to him crawling, begging for more of his sinful courtesy. So he can gladly give everything you ask for.

You pull him closer again, wrapping your arms around him with shaky hands. It's not that you're scared, but the nerves are hard to get rid of when it comes to having your first time with someone you've been crushing on for months.

"Please, I want you." You throw those words back at him.

He nods in response, kissing your face with a softness that could make anyone melt, and slowly, so very slowly starts pushing himself inside you. Keigo can hear you whimpering, not used to such a foreign feeling just yet.

It's not painful, but it makes you feel so unusually full once he's completely buried inside you. He also starts growling, savoring the feeling of your walls stretching, creating the perfect spot that fits his throbbing cock in such a delicious ways, it's almost impossible to describe how good you feel.

But one thing's certain, he can't get enough of it.

"God, you're so fucking tight." His voice is so low and hoarse, it nearly makes him sound feral, like a predator about to devour his prey.

And you, were the prey.

"Ahhh...So good, it feels so good being inside my princess."

Your arms grab onto the back of his shirt, bodies plastered against each other so nicely, fitting together just like a puzzle.

Like you were meant for each other from the very beginning.

Keigo pecks you on the lips tenderly. Hips pulling back carefully until nothing but the head is left inside, and then he gives a deep thrust that nearly knocks your whole breath away. Neither of you are capable of holding back the noises, and you don't want to either.

For the first time since you started college, you're glad to be in one of the classrooms in the fourth floor, as far away from prying ears as possible.

"Keigo, oh my god." Your body finally begins to relax, and Keigo can feel it too. He's grateful your insides are finally getting used to having him inside you, otherwise he probably would have come already from the tight clutch of your sweet and slippery cunt.

The moment he feels you completely relaxed it's where the real action begins. He pulls your arms away from him and lays you down over the whole surface.

The palm of his hand plants itself besides your head, acting as a support, otherwise he probably would have fallen over you, too lost over the pleasure your body provides him. The other hand is busy holding on to your hips for dear life, digging his nails on the skin and leaving a painful yet addicting feeling behind, as well as a couple of marks on the bruised skin.

"Remember when I said you'd never want something 'gentle' after this?" He smirks, looking down at you with such dominance, you can't even process any type of thought that's not related to him anymore. "Well, I always keep my promises. Princess."

In the blink of an eye he starts thrusting so hard and fast that you can't help it when the moans start getting louder. Keigo moves with a pace so strong, so fast, and so passionate that rattles the whole desk. It makes your thoughts wander in place, imagining the loud slam that could probably be heard across a room should he be fucking you in bed.

"Hey..." A snap of his fingers brings you back to the present, and to a frowning blond. "Eyes on me princess, or is this too boring for you?"

He stops moving altogether, even despite your desperate whines at the sudden halt of his thrust, but Keigo's a persistent man, and a teasing little shit who adores making you squirm underneath him.

"Keigoooo!" You hips move on their own, trying to get some more of that delicious feeling of his cock against your velvet walls. It doesn't last for long though, as both of his hands have a unshakable hold on your sides, completely preventing you from grinding against him any longer.

"If you really want more..." His hands travels all the way down to your aching sex, rubbing a single digit against your clit and drawing out a high pitched moan. "Then beg for it...Tell me, just how much you really want it."

"I..." You can't even form a proper sentence, an endless stuttering from his finger rubbing harder against the small bud, preventing you from doing so.

You can't talk, you can barely think, but you need him.

"I want you...to fuck me harder. P-Please Keigo, I really, really need your c-cock!" That's all you can say, and that's all he needs to hear. Keigo begins moving again, this time at such a brutal pace that makes everything go white. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoes loudly all around the classroom, and the smell of sex engulfs the whole room.

"That's much better!" He growls, satisfied with the way your head falls back when he hits a certain spot. Keigo gives another harsh thrust, making you scream from how good it feels to have him ravish your body like this.

You're so caught up in the moment, drowning in ectasy from every push. Then you feel it, the way your insides twist from the upcoming orgasm as he begins rutting mercilessly, kissing your womb over and over again.

"Keigo!" There's something about the way you scream his name, that makes his length twitch as it slips back and forth inside your cunt. And his pace begins to waver once he feels his own climax approaching. "I'm coming...!"

"You're coming princess? You want to cum all over my cock?" He gives another sharp thrust, drawing out another moan from you. By this point he could guess your throat is more likely sore from how loud you're getting. And he adores it.

"Do it then," He gasps, head burying itself on your shoulder and biting down on the soft flesh, that is definitely going to leave a mark. "Come for me, make a mess all over this desk, so every time you're in class you'll never forget what happened here behind everyone's back!"

He knows the effect his words have on you, that grin on his face says it all as he watches your body convulsing, trembling as your very first orgasm shakes your senses. He follows after you almost immediately, utterly overwhelmed after the had clenching of your walls around him.

You're both feeling exhausted, attempting to calm your heavy breathing. During that brief period of time, you keep wondering if what happened would be just a one time thing. And once the both of you walked out of the room, Keigo would tell you to pretend nothing happened.

In a way, it makes a small aching dig it's way inside your heart.

"Hey princess, what's with the long face?" Keigo's face leaves its place on your shoulder, worried you might be regretting everything that happened just a minute ago. "I told you there would be no problem in getting involved with me."

"I know," Slowly your hands release their hold on his shirt, leaving behind a couple of wrinkled spots. "But this changes everything. Was this just a one time thing?"

"Oh, that's what you're worried about?" His questions comes out so casually it almost gives you whiplash from how fast you turn to look at him, brows raised high in confusion.

Once again he grabs your chin between his fingers. This time with a softer look in his eyes than when he first proposed this debauchery.

"I meant what I said before, I've never met someone like you before." He gives a soft peck to your jaw, lips lingering in place momentarily. His eyes are closed, deep in thought as he thinks carefully about his next words.

"The question is. Do you, want this to be a one time thing?" He's making eye contact with you again. "Or do you want this to go further?"

"I, want to get to know you better, Keigo." The answer is barely audible, but he manages to hear it, judging by the soft look he gives you.

"That's all I need to hear. Now, what do you say we get out of here? The janitor should be arriving any moment now, and honestly." He pulls out his already soft member, making you whimper slightly at the sudden emptiness. "I'd rather be the only one seeing you like this."

Quickly you both try fixing yourselves as much as you can. Thankfully you always carry a small package of napkins, and quickly clean up the dripping mess between your legs before fixing up your clothes.

As well as the dirty predicament on the desk, the janitor's not to blame for the consequences of Ito's attitude after all.

You both walk out of the classroom carefully. Thankfully Keigo didn't have anything pending, so nobody came looking for him during your little "chat". But if any of your friends happened to see this, you'd never hear the end of it from them.

..........

Just like Keigo predicts, the next time you walk inside the classroom everything that happened last Friday comes back. And when Miss Ito's lesson finally starts, you have to fight back the urge to give her that same mocking smile she gave you last time.

If that's not satisfying enough, then the moment the whole school witnesses her outrage after she makes another move on Hawks, just for the teacher's assistant to mention he's already seeing someone definitely is a sight nobody will ever forget. Particularly after she's finally called into the principal's office for her lack of professionalism.

The whole school ends up celebrating the event. And you definitely will celebrate once again after class, judging by the subtle looks Keigo sends your way after the ordeal.

Taglist: @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @hawks-senseis @honeytama @savagetrickster @unbreakableeiji @wakaoujisenhime

#bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha smut #mha smut #hawks smut #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #hawks #bnha hawks

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yunho-1999 · 3 years

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Chapter eight — Wait

You stood up from the ground and whipped your tears away starting to walk towards the stairs. Right now you were confused. And also really embarrassed by what happened. You didn't really expect Taehyun to kiss you. You only saw him as a friend, and you thought he did too. But apparently he wanted something more than that. Or at least that's what the kiss made you believe. You just wished his mother didn't come in. Because now, you definitely wouldn't be able to see him in person and talk to him properly. And that frustrated you. Now you had to deal with all your feelings alone. You knew that if you told either Beomgyu or Yeonjun it wouldn't be a good idea. Yeonjun, because he hated your ex boyfriend so much, that he was extremely opposed to the idea of you having another boyfriend. And Beomgyu, well, he didn't do well with feelings either so he would probably laugh at you, or tell Yeonjun right away. Now that their names came into your mind you wondered if they were doing fine without you. Maybe you worried too much about them, when you shouldn't. You sighed and started walking home, trying to ignore everything that was going on on your mind.

Meanwhile at home Yeonjun was still asleep, he did indeed wake up a few times, but he immediately went back to sleep. Not wanting to be awake for more than five seconds. He was stressed, he needed time to rest his mind. And if that ment sleeping the whole day, he would. Right now he was being selfish, he only cared about himself. He didn't wake up when he heard you go out. He didn't wake up when he heard Beomgyu scream. He didn't care about anyone. He was trying to rest his own mind. Knowing that he would probably be very frustrated if he woke up. And that would just make things worse for everyone. At least, that's what he thought. And he definitely was wrong. Beomgyu had literally jumped out the window when he saw the door was closed. Luckily it wasn't too high, so it was quite easy to get out without getting hurt. Now he was wandering the streets all alone, still affected by the powder he inhaled before. Apparently that's why the boy liked it so much, because it lasted, it made him feel good and happy. And he didn't care about anything else. He couldn't care less about the consequences. If it made him forget his problems, it was worth it. He knew he told you he wouldn't take it anymore. But that little amount on that plastic bag was so tempting. It was the last time anyway. Or that's what he wanted. He didn't want to get kicked out of your house, well, he didn't want to disappoint you. You were too special to him. You had helped him so many times. He owned you his life almost.

Once you were in front of your house you sighed, not wanting to go inside. For some reason you really didn't want to face your friends right now. You needed someone else. And if Taehyun couldn't be the person. There was another option. Soobin. He would never reject your offer of talking to him, and you knew. You quietly walked towards his house and knocked on the door. Trying to look a little bit presentable after what happened you smiled. Hoping he wouldn't notice that you've been crying. Soon enough the door opened, revealing a quite happy Soobin. "Hi y/n!" He said excited, as he didn't think you would be there. It was a pleasant surprise. "Hi soob. Could we hang out for a bit? It's been a while since we've done that" you questioned while looking down at your feet, not knowing how he would react. Maybe, just maybe, he would say no. "Of course! I would love that. Really" he held your hand and pulled you inside immediately. Closing the door behind you. "You know what? I got a pet!" You could feel the excitement in his voice, and his face, it had the brightest smile you've ever seen. It was truly beautiful. And it amazed you how someone could be like that. He was incredible. "Really?" You asked, now you also had a smile on your face. That darn thing was contagious "Can I see it?" "Of course!"

He pulled you once again, and now you were in his room. He made you sit on the bed while you waited. You had been there before, but it was different. Now the walls were white instead of grey. And it had less frames on the wall. That made you wonder. Because apparently those were pictures of his friends and family. Before you could think more about the topic he came in. Holding a little hedgehog between his big hands. "That's adorable" you said approaching him "Isn't it? His name is Odi" he said proudly, now leaving the animal on his bed. You sat back down and Soobin did the same, besides you. "Can I touch him?" "Yeah" you carefully reached for the hedgehog and touched it, not wanting to scare the thing. It seemed to be friendly, and also, the cutest thing in the world behind Yeonjun. He was always the number one. No exceptions. "So, why did you want to hang out with me? Did your friends do something..?" You were caught off guard by that question but you shook your head "they didn't. Don't worry. I just needed some other company" you looked at him "It's hard getting used to them being around all the time. Because before I only got to see them for some hours. But now, that they're living with me, it's different. And also things didn't go as planned at the coffee shop" you sighed "it's just hard and very frustrating. Anyways, sorry for bothering you with this" he frowned a little and before you could look away he held your chin "hey, you're not bothering me. I'm here for you remember? I know that it's probably hard for you. So when you need anything, just come to me. I mean it" "thank you Soobin, you're always so nice" "It's nothing really. I just like you being around"

Without noticing it, the afternoon went faster than you imagined. It was already nine o'clock so you decided to say goodbye to your friendly neighbor, and thank him for everything. Before leaving. When you got to your own home you saw a sleepy Yeonjun on the couch, so you didn't go to him. Because you didn't want to bother. Instead you began searching for Beomgyu, just to see that he wasn't any where. It was like the disapeared. That made you worry. A lot. You got your phone out and started calling. Just to hear his ringtone coming from inside the house. He left his phone there. Because of course, he knew you would try to spot him. He wasn't as stupid as he seemed to be. In fact, he was too smart for his well-being. He just didn't like to use his knowledge often. He prefered to go with the flow instead of thinking. And that definitely was a bad idea. You didn't know what to do. If you went out it would be to no avail. Because you had no clue where he was. You sighed and sat down on your bed. Your only option was to wait.

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❥ taglist: @just-howaboutyou @myfirstandiast @beomiesclub @hwallswrld

#female reader #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun #x y/n #txt beomgyu #beomgyu #txt taehyun #hueningkai #soobin #loser lover #0x1 = lovesong #txt lovesong #txt angst #txt fanfic #txt fluff #txt yeonjun

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theseshipsshallsail · 3 years

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Chapter 1

The revelry from the bookstore leaves a heady buzz of la libertà flowing through their veins, and as the crescent moon climbs higher in a pin-pricked sky, Rome’s labyrinthine streets bear witness to the loss of their remaining inhibitions. Drunken kisses give way to drunken dancing - and unfortunate drunken vomiting - but the ancient cobbles are their compass on this ferragosto evening, steering them back to the complicit safety of their hotel.

The stale scent of sex still lingers in the room, yet tempted as they are to add to it, the prospect of their imminent separation is a sobering force. Elio’s body is heavy with exhaustion. The oppressive tightness in his chest magnified by all that he’s trying to ignore. Their time is borrowed. Soon, all of this will be naught but memory. The man beside him nothing but a ghost. Haunting his every step with visions of a life denied. A future obfuscated by what-ifs and maybes.

He refuses to sleep, however. Refuses to sacrifice a single minute to unconsciousness in spite of the grappa’s siren call. Absurd though it is, a part of him dreads waking up alone. That Oliver will disappear like a thief in the night - taking what’s left of his shattered heart with him. His guards are down - all his pretences stripped away - but here they are, stretched out on a too-small bed, solemn fingers caressing familiar skin. Worshipping each other by words, if not by the flesh.

And it isn’t easy. Of course it isn’t. Elio’s an individuo reservato. A trait he’s uncomfortably aware of. But he can’t let that stop him from spilling his innermost thoughts. From divulging the things he wishes he’d done differently. Or not at all. In some aspects, he’s sure he’s repeating himself, but there’s just so much he needs Oliver to hear. Things he never dared tell him previously - never deemed vital - when the end of their summer idyll was a nebulous concept.

Like how he’d leave the adjoining door open at night, hoping beyond hope that Oliver would walk through it. Or that afternoon at the tennis courts, when he’d recoiled from his massage for fear of leaning into the frisson of excitement. Needs him to understand his visceral reaction the morning after they first slept together. The crippling anxiety that twisted his intentions, necessitating a hasty - if short-lived - retreat. Wants to beg him not to forget. To remember everything. So that when next he tastes the salt-tang of the ocean upon his lips, the sweetness of apricot juice beneath a cloudless yonder, a piece of Elio - nevermind how fleeting - will slip into that parallel life, too.

All his secrets.

All his worries.

All he’s put off for later.

A futile notion, admittedly, now that there is no later.

No more chance for postponement.

Thankfully, he isn’t the only one speaking, and Oliver lays his own regrets out like a hand of cards whenever he stumbles into a tongue-tied silence. His forearm is slung around his waist, their legs tangled at the knees, and Elio drowns in his eyes as he recalls the steely glares that once pierced him to the core, but which he now appreciates were a means of self-defence. An attempt to stave off the unavoidable.

“Did you mean it?” he whispers, twisting Oliver’s Star of David between his fingertips as he burrows into the sticky warmth of his neck. “When you said you’d been happy here?”

“How can you even ask me that?”

“How can I not?” Elio replies, failing to control the tremor in his voice. “You tried to keep your distance when you arrived. It was me who sought you out. If I hadn’t pushed so hard -”

“I’d have probably spent ten more days kicking myself for my cowardice,” Oliver tells him, dropping kisses to his knuckles as though they’re something to be cherished. “Wearing holes in my espadrilles… trying to hide a semi each time you passed by in those swim trunks...”

Elio snorts. “The feeling’s mutual, mon ami.”

“So we’re both idiots, then?”

“Well… one of us was being purposefully difficult...”

“Goose,” Oliver growls, and Elio giggles despite himself when he’s tickled without mercy. “I’ll show you purposefully difficult.”

It soon devolves into a childish wrestling match, Elio’s wrists pinned above him as Oliver scrabbles along his sides, leaving him bow-taut and winded. “Tutto apposto! Enough!”

“You give?”

“I give,” he says, lungs heaving in his chest. “Dio… I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Nonsense.” Oliver rolls to the side, tipping his chin up to better meet his eyes. ”This is new to us both. It’s only natural to have doubts.”

Elio huffs. “Doubt is the father of inventions.”

“And may I ask what you’re inventing?”

An awkward shrug. “Nothing,” Elio says, afraid his misgivings will lead them down a destructive path. “And everything. You know how my brain works.”

“I do, yes.” Oliver brushes a thumb over his bottom lip. “Though for my sins, I’ve yet to find cause for complaint.”

“Déviant.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Elio nips at the tormenting digit, not quite ready to let the subject go. “I want to hear it,” he murmurs, teeth scraping the nail. “I think I need to hear it.”

“Elio…”

“Just tell me,” he insists, and sighing, Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose.

“It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?”

Impatience flares at the return of his evasiveness, and the remorse in Oliver’s gaze is immediate. “We never talked much about my family, did we?” he asks, and Elio shakes his head, shuffling closer as Oliver draws a shuddering breath. “My parents, they’re.... well. To describe them as traditional would be a kindness,” he continues. “Our relationship has been strained for years, but they have certain... expectations, I suppose. For my future, specifically. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” Elio asks, stiffening as I'm sure I'll pay for it somehow echoed from the not so distant past.

The implication is clear, and maybe there are razor blades in his expression, because Oliver’s own turns instantly apologetic. “I guess not,” he says, sliding a conciliatory hand to his hip. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

Elio frowns. “In what way?”

“With your folks,” Oliver explains. “My father would cart me off to a correctional facility.” A beat. “He still might.”

“Only if he finds out,” his traitorous mouth blurts before his alleged genius can catch up, and Elio’s heart sinks. “But he won’t, will he?”

It’s less a question, more a statement, and Oliver’s jaw clenches as he stares at him in silent concession. “I wish things could be different.”

“I know,” Elio says, the words braver than the sentiment behind them. “Me too.”

But the universe isn’t that lenient. Like Icarus, they’ve flown too near to the sun, and the consequences of such defiance will see their wings clipped once they crash back down to earth. He’d cautioned himself on the journey south to prepare for the blow. Peered out the grimy window of the direttissimo, knowing that when he next stands on the platform he’ll be alone. That he’ll hate it. Those rehearsals, it seems, have done little to dull the pain of what’s to come, and latent superstition has left him fumbling in the dark, regardless.

“E’ la vita,” Elio says, resorting to self-preservation as he dredges up a smile - the over-bright, false one he’s perfected through years of dinner drudgery. “Why risk it all for a bit of fun, right?”

“Don’t do that.” Apparently Elio’s not the only one who can see through a facade. “You mean more to me than some fling, and you know it.”

“But -”

“No. Hear me out.” Earnest, Oliver smooths the hair from Elio’s temple. “These past six weeks… I don’t know how to describe how important they were to me. The freedom. The acceptance.” His throat bobs in the grey strokes of dawn. “You.”

“Me?”

“Us.” Oliver fidgets with a loose thread on Elio’s shirt. “I meant it,” he mutters at last, winding an errant curl around the index finger of his other hand. “I have been happy here. I’ve been happy with you.” He hesitates. A quick flash of indecision. “I’m not sure I was ever really happy before you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Per carità! That only makes it worse,” Elio says, whirling away to hide in Oliver’s collar. The sour musk of sweat is soaked into the material, and he inhales deeply, hoarding every piece of him while he still can. “You are the very best parts of me,” he confesses, lifting his head. “I don’t know what I’ll do when -”

“Hey…” Oliver’s grip tightens. “Didn’t we go over this? You’ll be -”

“Fine. You said.”

“Clearly it bears repeating.”

Elio touches his face. Watches the ripples of emotion spread out like a pebble cast into the lake. “And you?” he returns, recollecting that night on the rock. His naivety in presuming Oliver’s ghost wouldn’t always be staring out at the horizon. Rodin’s Thinker clad in billowy cotton. “You’ll be okay?”

A breath. “I’ll be okay.”

Elio’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince, so he kisses him gently in lieu of examining it further, his stomach flipping when Oliver pulls back with an air of exquisite softness. “What time do we need to be at the airport?” he asks, seeking sanctuary in distraction. “You have your passport, sì?”

“I do,” Oliver says, studying him carefully. “The plane leaves at noon. But don’t feel you have to -” He stops. Swallows. Tries again. “You don’t have to see me off. Not if you don’t want -”

“I want.”

“Elio -”

“Non essere ridicolo. I’m coming,” he tells him, fighting a shiver as the cool breeze from the window brings goosebumps to his skin. “Of course I’m coming.”

The relentless tick of the clock rings loud in the sudden silence, and Elio raises up on his elbow, only for Oliver to cup his cheek before he can turn towards the wall.

“Don’t look,” he whispers, sounding choked as he double checks the time on his watch. “It’s ten minutes fast at any rate.”

“Ten minutes?” Elio laughs. Slightly unhinged. “What difference does that make? Ten? Twenty? You still have to leave.”

He detests the unspoken word that hovers between them. The entire phrase a sullen admission of weakness: you still have to leave me.

“Don’t think of it like that,” Oliver murmurs, one hand stroking the base of his spine. ”We have a few hours yet.”

Elio sniffs. “Not like they’ll matter tomorrow.”

“Maybe not. But they matter right now.” Oliver nudges their foreheads together. “Every second, Elio.”

“Every second, Elio,” he echoes numbly, if only to call him by his name one last time.

He’s shaking, he realises, though in all honesty he doesn’t care that his vulnerabilities are on display. That Oliver can see how lost in him he really is. That the situation is gutting him, and he’s unable to stop the bleeding. His chest feels concave. The space below his ribs too small to contain the sheer need and protectiveness that washes through him. He wants to shelter Oliver from the storm that lies ahead. To house him beneath his breast where the burdens of this world cannot touch him. Encapsulate everything Oliver is within the confines of himself, meagre as those confines might be.

But what can he do? Implore him to stay? Ask him to give up his doctorate? His career? His responsibilities? And for what? A life in the shadows? Always looking over their shoulders. Always that sense of shame.

He thinks of the pink and yellow lilies that bloom in the giardino back in B. The delicate petals that unfurl for such a brief period of time. There’s something recherché, he knows, in such transitory beauty, yet Elio’s never lacked for stubbornness. Oliver may believe his story is already written - that their destiny is forged in stone - but no one’s ever survived a freefall by continuing to spiral.

For something so tragically temporary, their bond has left a permanent mark. And Elio? He wants to beat his fists against this odious ending until they’re bloodied and raw.

#cmbyn #fanfic #elio x oliver #angst #last night in rome

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delicioussshame · 3 years

Text

[cries in fandom] I was supposed to work tonight and instead I wrote more of yesterday’s fic because I had the idea and couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Shen Qingqiu isn’t an empty nester. He has plenty of disciples still running around the peak, eager to learn and keeping him very busy.

It’s just that the generation that was already there when he arrived, Ning Yingying, Ming Fan and the others, are now fully grown cultivators, spending most of their time roaming the world on their own quests.

They bring him pride each time they visit, usually gifting him with obscure artefacts and rare volumes he spends days pouring over. It doesn’t quite make up for their absence, but it helps.

Still, he would have preferred Ning Yingying gift him something else the last time she visited.

He, of course, knew she would eventually cross paths with Luo Binghe. She was bound to. After much pondering, he had decided not to interfere. Her occasional visits to Luo Binghe weren’t enough to hurt her cultivation, and anyway Luo Binghe was usually careful not to let Xin Mo gorge enough to leave traces, especially on trained cultivators. She’d be fine.

Plus, when Luo Binghe would tire of hiding in plain sight and reveal his status as leader of the Demon Realm, his fondness for her would protect her from the consequences Shen Qingqiu himself might face.

He would probably be fine though. He’d just have to take a less adversarial take than his predecessor, who had fought to the death to “protect his disciple from the beast”.

Or he’d thought he would, until Ning Yingying, with a blinding smile that radiated unblemished innocence, had told her she’d booked him a session with her A-Luo, because, to hear her say it, he needed it.

He had been tempted to expel her on sight. Don’t thrown Shen Qingqiu into the maws of the beast! He doesn’t have your youthful beauty or girlish charms!

He hadn’t. Ning Yingying is just too caring. She hadn’t realised that just because she very much enjoyed Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu might not feel the same. Wrong tree. Because if he were attracted to men, which he was not, what a ridiculous notion, he would have made a move himself. Luo Binghe is soft on his favorite clients. He’d have nothing to lose by endearing himself to him.

Too bad he’s not interested. He had to refuse him.

He’d thought he knew what to expect when he’d gone to reject the offer as politely as he could. It wouldn’t do to offend him.

Sadly, all the foreknowledge of the world hadn’t been quite enough to shield himself from his unnatural charisma. He’d made a fool of himself, practically running out to escape the protagonist’s aura. Luo Binghe, how terrifying! His poor disciple had stood no chance!

Anyway, he can admit he is occasionally lonely. He misses his dear Yingying and his first disciple, whom, for all his flaws, Shen Qingqiu had grown fond of. It wasn’t impossible for Ning Yingying to have noticed, and to have tried to offer him company. Totally misguided, but understandable.

When he hears a commotion outside, he instantly goes to check it out. Maybe it will break his monotony.

He immediately regrets it. Why, why on earth are Luo Binghe and Liu Qingge fighting with enough strength that they could easily kill his terrorised disciples here on his peak! It’s way too early for Luo Binghe to have come out of the demonic closet! And why is he even here!

Shen Qingqiu turns towards his closest disciple. “What is happening here.”

The poor girl jumps at his tone. “Shizun! I’m sorry, I’m not sure, we heard rumours that Luo Binghe was at the sect, so we were curious, but Liu-shishu showed up and it devolved into a fight. I don’t know why.”

Huh. So Liu Qingge made the first move? Quite possible. He might have wanted to protect his sister’s honor.

That should be manageable. He raises his voice. “Fighting on my peak isn’t allowed. Stop at this instant.”

To his surprise, both swords freeze.

Shen Qingqiu despairs for this world’s mob characters. How come no one wonders why a courtesan can keep up with Liu Qingge? Why can’t they notice how Xin Mo oozes with malevolence? Can they only see Luo Binghe’s fabulously handsome face and physique?

He wouldn’t be surprised.

“Shen Qingqiu! How dare you!”

Shen Qingqiu blinks. “How dare I what, Liu-shidi? I’m not the one who picked a fight on someone else’s peak.”

He points to Luo Binghe. “Him!”

Beside his general existence, there’s nothing especially offensive about Luo Binghe? “What about him?”

“I thought you’d outgrown such nonsense, but he shows up here!”

Shen Qingqiu has no idea what is happening. “I’m sorry if his presence offends you, but I assure you I have nothing to do with it.”

“I’m afraid that’s a lie,” says Luo Binghe as Liu Qingge seems close to death via outrage.

Shen Qingqiu turns toward Luo Binghe. “How could it be?”

In answer, Luo Binghe brandishes… the fan he’d completely forgotten when he’d visited, shit! Did he come here, on his peak, holding this incriminating evidence as a badge of honor!?

Shen Qingqiu feels himself blanch. How can he clear himself of these allegations? Liu Qingge thinks he’s trying to steal his sister’s man! Once the War God of Bai Zhen is done with Luo Binghe, Shen Qingqiu’s head is next!

Luo Binghe continues like he didn’t notice Shen Qingqiu’s obvious discomfort, which he must have. “You left this behind the other day, and so I have come to return it. Let it not be said I am not a perfect gentleman.”

Oh no. He can hear consternation from some of his pupils, and definitely less consternated exclamations from others.

Liu Qingge has now plunged on Luo Binghe again, who dodges with too much ease. How can no one notice something is wrong!

Maybe the renewed fight will distract everyone while Shen Qingqiu discretely dig himself a hole deep enough to never have to come out.

Oh well, there’s nothing he can tell but the truth. No one will believe it, but since no one ever believed Shen Qingqiu, how will it be any different? “Please stop this fight at once. Luo Binghe, I thank you for bringing my fan back to me despite my rude refusal of your services. It wasn’t your fault my student misconstrued my interests. Again, I am sorry for your wasted time. Liu-shidi, I understand your sister’s paramour might not be your favorite individual, but please don’t assault the sect’s guests. Think of our reputation. What will people say?”

Liu Qingge stares at him with… stupefaction? “You’re not his?”

Yeah, he’s nipping that train of thought in the bud. The last thing he needs is his disciples thinking he’s some pretty thing’s toy. They would never respect him again. “No. He’s not my type. No offense intended.”

Liu Qingge remains still for a moment, before he plucks the fan from Luo Binghe’s hand and shoves it toward Shen Qingqiu. “Keep track of your fans! There are two in my home!”

Ladies and gentlemen, Shen Qingqiu, a man being berated in public about his chronic tendency to forget things like an unruly child. “Why should I care when Shidi is always so eager to bring them back to me?”

Liu Qingge flushes in anger.

Shen Qingqiu gives himself a point.

_______________

Things were light-hearted before.

Now, Luo Binghe is serious.

Not only did Shen Qingqiu refuse his advance, but he implied Luo Binghe himself wasn’t good enough for him, in front of his whole peak, before ignoring him in favor of flirting with another man, right in his face?

Never has he suffered such humiliation.

He had intended to be kind. To soothe and seduce the man gently until following Luo Binghe to bed would seem like the only logical option.

He bets Shen Qingqiu would have paid him for the privilege, and paid him well, regardless of his disciple’s previous arrangements.

Now, those options are off the table. When Luo Binghe is done with him, pleasure will have robbed Shen Qingqiu of the last of his voice, and yet he’ll still be trying to beg him for more.

He’ll be ruined to anyone that’s not Luo Binghe; unable to live without his touch.

Anything less would be an unsurmountable affront.

Shen Qingqiu better prepares himself. The fight might have been lost, but Luo Binghe will be the one to win the war.

#The Scum Villain Self Serving System #Scum Villain #BingQiu #but it really is #OriginalLBH/SY #Courtesan LBH AU #This has its own tag now and I'm sad

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snowbellewells · 3 years

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Self Promo Sunday: “Kingdom Come”

This is another one of my early Captain Swan one shots, this one written during the hiatus between 3a and 3b. The idea entered my head when I first heard "Demons" by Imagine Dragons, which is where the title and the lyrics included come from. There was also some added inspiration from episode 3x06 "Ariel" and episode 3x07 "Dark Hollow". I don't think there is anything in here that goes against show canon; it's mostly imagined thoughts and missing scenes that go along with what has happened, and some guesses at what we may see when "Once" returns again in March.

As always, I have no claim to the show, the characters, or the song used. They belong to their creators and I'm merely celebrating their genius!

Also available on both AO3 and ff.net

“Kingdom Come”

by: @snowbellewells

He knew that he should have kept his distance. She was shining light in contrast to his dark shadow, and a villainous wretch was the last sort she needed to have dogging her steps. Yet from their first meeting – knife at his throat, fingers fisted in his hair, hard, dangerous eyes hiding tense, nervous fear – he hadn't been able to pull away. He had no choice but to follow her. Call it a compulsion, an addiction, but he was as drunk on her as he had ever been on his chosen rum, and he despaired from the moment she left him chained atop that bloody beanstalk to any time she had left his side since.

The words Cora had hissed at him in warning echoed back to him, "You chose her…and the consequences of that decision…" Whether it was good or bad for either of them didn't seem to matter to his black, barely-beating heart. It was true: he had chosen the Swan girl…

When the days are cold

and the cards all fold

and the saints we see

are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail

and the ones we hail

are the worst of all

and the blood's run stale

It had become even clearer to him after the Echo Caves. When he had bared his soul and the feelings he harbored for her to be met with only silence and Emma's panicked uncertainty, fearless pirate he might be, but Killian Jones knew he should take a step back. The incredible, unparalleled kiss they had shared in the Neverland jungle told him the Savior was as attracted as he, but she was not ready for him. Her sole focus was on her boy – as it should be – but beyond that, she was running scared from anyone else who might try to breach her emotional defenses.

He knew it had been too much, too soon, to unload the truth about feeling that he could love again upon meeting her, and if he had been free to proceed as himself – as Killian Jones wooing a lady properly – he would have never been so clumsily blunt, but instead he was a pirate captain desperate to prove his loyalty and worth, while stuck on Peter Pan's nightmare island. They had needed to get Neal back without further delay and return to seeking Henry, and so he'd had to make clear that he was correct in the way the infernal cave worked. It had not been easy to look into her beautiful, tormented eyes when he had offered his confession, hoping he hadn't driven a wedge which would push her even farther away. It had been even worse to see her run across the bridge formed for her of their painful admissions, right up to Baelfire without giving him a word of comfort, encouragement, or thanks. He felt his shoulders slump in defeat, hurting more than he had imagined, when the cage holding the Crocodile's son vanished at words from Emma which he could not hear, and she fell into the embrace of her first love.

Killian felt her slipping away – if she had ever been within his grasp at all. Bowing his head, he hid the pain in his eyes from Snow White and Prince Charming's curious, searching gazes. Burning fire within him seared away the tentative hope he had foolishly let kindle within. He was nothing but a pirate, as the Prince had reminded him not so long ago. Though he couldn't help wanting to hold her, it was probably for the best…

I wanna hide the truth

I wanna shelter you

But with the beast inside

there's nowhere we can hide

No matter what we breed,

we still are made of greed

This is my kingdom come,

This is my kingdom come

There was no longer any doubt. He was a fool – a sodding, pathetic fool. For him to let a glimmer of belief take root in his chest again was begging for misery, but Killian Jones had felt it growing all the same.

Venturing into the Dark Hollow had been a risky, desperate move at best, but after his face-off with Baelfire and discovering that Emma had not even deemed what had been brewing between them worth mention, self-preservation had not been so high atop his list. He had barely cared what happened to him in their suicide quest to capture Pan's shadow.

Of course, the fiend trying to rip his shadow from his body had jolted things into focus with frightening clarity; especially when he realized that Baelfire was facing the exact same fate, but it was his moniker of 'Hook!' that Emma cried out in horror. That she found the power to magically light their star map shadowcatcher just after her concern for him surfaced was not lost on Killian. No matter how much he cautioned himself not to dwell on it, he couldn't ignore the implications. Emma might not want to admit it, might not be free to show it, but when push came to shove, she cared more for him than she wished to admit.

He had not lied to her when he had promised no deviousness or trickery. If Emma Swan – the Enchanted Forest's lost princess – ever gave him the chance to truly win her heart, he would use no dishonorable means. He understood good form and had once dreamed of being a hero. He might be an orphan and a pirate, not some prince or man of noble blood, and his thirst for revenge had kept him lost in villainy for countless years, but he still had honor, could strive to show it valiantly once again. He knew deep down that she wanted him; what he did not know was if Swan would ever allow herself to acknowledge her desires. He could only vow that he would endeavor to deserve her if she came to him with such a golden opportunity.

Swan needed some joy and lightheartedness in her life. Though she looked fragile, she was hard as steel; she'd had to be for far too long. To him, her beauty was unrivalled, but it was clear that Emma did not see that in herself. He wanted to worship her as she deserved, unfit as he might be to do so. Killian Jones wanted to restore her lad to her, heal the wounds of her past, love her unconditionally, and never leave her side. He trembled to risk pulling her that close; his history proving over and over that anyone he dared to love had suffered a horrible fate. It was better his own heart be crushed than for her to suffer harm by nearness to him. Still, if he fought back the darkness he had sunk into, shouldn't he be allowed to step into the light?

When you feel my heat,

look into my eyes

It's where my demons hide

Don't get too close

It's dark inside

It's where my demons hide

She came to him at the helm of his ship once Henry was truly safe and resting peacefully with Regina watching over him. There had been a scare when Pan had tried to take Henry from them once again, but it appeared Rumplestiltskin's strength had indeed been greater than the ageless boy's, and their antagonist was now trapped safely in Pandora's Box. Sighing as she came to a stop just beyond arm's reach from him and leaned against the Jolly's hull, Emma didn't know if weariness or relief was winning within her at present. She was not sure that seeking out Hook when her emotions were such a mess was a good idea, but it was a need all the same. She was drawn to him like a magnet – impelled to speak to him, to thank him for helping them to get this far…to make sure that he was alright.

Emma knew he had been left hanging, knew he wanted more. What she didn't know was what she had to give. It had nothing to do with still doubting his motives or that he was a pirate; Hook had long since proven himself in her eyes. She simply wasn't sure her heart could let any man in the way he would want and deserve. She found it didn't matter though: she still ached to be near the Captain. He calmed her, despite the turmoil she had been in ever since this voyage started, and his constant support at her back, whatever the situation or whatever her decisions, had given her strength. She wanted to tell him so; if nothing else, he ought to know what it meant to have had him in her corner and that she would not soon forget it.

"Hook…" she began, then shook her head to cut herself off, knowing that wasn't right. Her corrected word came out breathy and more ragged than she had intended, "….Killian…"

He turned to face her when she spoke his name, though he had already known she was there. Just then, she could see everything he was feeling in those ocean blue eyes. Though their decadent depths often smirked, prodded, threatened, or demanded as the situation called for, at that moment they were raw, reflecting mirrors letting her see right into his exposed inner soul.

All the words she had intended to give him flew from her head, and Emma was left standing frozen, swallowing hard and wondering why she wanted to talk at all. With that in mind, she moved to stand before him, just within his reach, when one corner of his mouth tilted up in a tempting smirk as he beckoned her closer. Obviously pleased with himself, he took things a step farther, resting both hand and hook at either side of her waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles that she could feel the warmth of through the waistband of her jeans, as if he were stilling a skittish animal so it didn't flee. "Was there something you wished to discuss with me, Love?"

"I…" her mouth went dry staring into his eyes and she struggled to focus on anything other than the desire for a second kiss from him, but she finally pieced together coherent words. "I just wanted to thank you…for everything. We couldn't have even followed Henry without your ship and your help. David would be dead by now. And I, well, I just…"

"Come, Lass, it's just me. There's no need to be so formal. I offered you my ship and my services, and I meant it." As he said these words, he was slowly, deliberately, pinning her in his gaze so she understood just how much it did mean to him. He placed the cool, smooth curve of his hook under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his.

"But – it's just – it's so much more than that," she floundered, and if she weren't so grateful and attracted and muddled all at once she would have been irritated that he could sound so composed and romantic while she struggled to get a sentence out. Emotional tears almost welled over her eyelids, but she blinked them back and stepped closer yet, almost begging him to hold her, causing their noses to nearly brush. Looking up at him, she hoped that just maybe her eyes could convey her affection, gratitude, and want without the words that seemed lost to her. Biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation, Emma raised her eyes, blinking, to his cerulean gaze and prayed he would simply read her scrambled mind.

Chuckling low in his throat, Killian seemed to do just that, and wrapped his muscled arms around to reel her in. "All you had to do was ask, Love," he teased, lightly ghosting his lips over her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, forestalling the inevitable and making her heart thud erratically even as she grew impatient for his lips to reach hers. Just as she had grabbed him and driven their first kiss – fast, desperate, bruising – he was taking over this second one, creating a slow, languorous, building simmer that Emma wasn't sure she would survive.

Killian's hand came up to cradle her head, hook resting along her neck on the other side, the one bit of cool relief to the fire in which he had engulfed her. His calloused fingers stroked along her jaw as if hoping to coax her nearer still. This kiss carried their feelings in it; there was still heat and passion, but below it thrummed something more, something deeper: it required a decision. Emma's breath caught at the realization that this kiss was something which might last.

Killian was thinking, hoping, the same thing, hardly daring to believe, but unable to stop it either. Greedy thief and pirate that he was, he wanted more of Emma; it would never be enough. Fool he might be, but he did not aim to stop until he had stolen her very heart. Not so long ago, he had been rudderless, with nothing in this world to keep him but his vengeance. Now, he prayed that he could change his course. At last, he had something to fight for, someone to hold dear. Killian Jones – Captain Hook – had despaired of being anything else but hell bound…until she crossed his path. Perhaps he might still find redemption in Emma. Heaven had to know his every effort and act for good has been due to her. It's all for her.

Don't wanna let you down

but I am hell bound

Though this is all for you,

don't wanna hide the truth…

This is my kingdom come

The door slams in his face – her door – and Killian lets himself slump against the wall, dejected. It all happened so quickly and now Emma is gone. She is beyond his grasp, as he had always known she was. He has waited so long to see her lovely face again, traveled so far, and though he tried to prepare himself for the very reaction he received, it didn't hurt any less when she gave him the blank look which told him his Swan no longer knew him.

Upon their forced return to the Enchanted Forest, he had tried to steer clear of everyone. Angry, wounded, and bitter, he had wanted nothing more than to hide himself below deck on the Roger and drink until he couldn't think of how being ripped from her just when she had given him a chance had hurt. He had not wanted to be near anyone and had made horrible, snarling company when someone forced the issue, but that had not stopped Snow and Charming. Emma's parents were a painful reminder of her, but no matter how he strove to avoid them and steer clear, they would not leave him alone.

It was exasperating how they kept trying to draw him into rebuilding the castle and their kingdom, tried to cheer him up, provided work for he and his crew as supplies were needed from other ports, and generally would not allow him to wallow in his misery as he had desired. They kept repeating that they had faith this separation would not last forever. For some unfathomable reason, he seemed to have found his way into their affection, and they would not let him despair either.

When Regina had finally put together a memory restorative potion, he had been willing to concede that these royal types and their unending hope were not so completely off base. The former evil queen had been almost pleasant and much more willing to help ever since meeting Robin Hood – apparently the man she had been destined to meet long ago. Some of the dangerous emptiness and hurt left her eyes when she was around the archer, and especially near his young son. Killian knew that she hoped Emma would find a way back and bring Henry if she could be made to remember. Regina also knew the rules of the second curse well though; she was to give up the thing she loved most. She couldn't be the one to go after them, couldn't force her hand. She would have to trust those whom she had spent so long fighting against.

Killian had been stunned however when David and Snow both championed his undertaking the quest. Something knowing flickered between the Prince and Princess' eyes, but he didn't waste time trying to figure it out. He was too grateful, touched, and ridiculously anxious to get going, whatever the mode of travel, to ask questions.

Now, faced with the harsh truth, he almost forgets the potion tucked into a pocket of his vest. He had to try True Love's Kiss, had to see for himself if it were possible. He shouldn't have even entertained the dream, and yet he couldn't help himself. He truly thought she loved him…but maybe she still does and has simply forgotten. He has come too far to turn back now without seeing his mission through. Any realm he tries to make his life in now will be empty without her regardless. He will wait for his moment, and he will try again…

They say it's what you make

I say it's up to Fate

It's woven in my soul

I need to let you go

Your eyes they shine so bright

I wanna save that light

I can't escape this now,

Unless you show me how…

Killian stands outside the large, several story building where Emma and Henry now reside, oblivious to the crush of people rushing around him on all sides, looking up to the window he knows is theirs, comforted by the fact that, though she may not remember him right now, they are once again in the same place and time. He can get to her, and he will succeed in bringing her back to her family…and to him.

That she wants him to keep his distance right now means little. He is sorry that she is at last safe with her son and free of the heavy weight of her destiny and he seeks to interrupt that. However, he thinks he knows Emma well enough to believe she would not wish for an illusion over truth; even if it pained her, she would rather face reality. He knows that much of his Swan.

Villain that he has been, that the world has always seen, the selfless action would be to let her go, but he cannot allow himself to admit defeat. Emma has never truly been loved – treasured – as she ought to have been, as he had planned to do. He fervently wishes to be the one to show her what it is to be wholly adored. He wants her to know that she is his whole world, and he needs the chance to see if she can love him in return, keep him striving to live again. The demons that still haunt him, that say her kingdom and his black soul are already lost, try to whisper that he will fail. Their voices hiss that he will never bring her back, that her knowledge and memories are lost forever. Killian pushes those insidious echoes from his mind. Soon, he will meet her haunting, storm-tossed eyes again, and he will make her see.

This is my kingdom come…

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @tomeandflickcorner @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @stahlop @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @elizabeethan @wefoundloveunderthelight @jonesfandomfanatic @spartanguard @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl

#self promo sunday #cs ff #cs one shot #season 3a missing moments #ouat 3b spec fic #kingdom come

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fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

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Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 20 - Just Kids

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what consequences?, 4.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19

All too soon, two very familiar colors filled the back of the van. Alex’s heart immediately submerged into the dark ocean it always went to in despair, knowing they were all screwed this time. He could already see Bobby pulling onto the shoulder - they didn’t need the sound of sirens to tell them what was up. Willie still seemed like he wasn’t all present, and Alex squeezed his fingers and shook his hands to bring him back to the now. They had really hoped it wouldn’t happen. None of the guys could’ve anticipated the alarm, or that Caleb would be in town when they definitely thought he was gone, or that everything would go wrong.

Not knowing didn’t matter, though. Hours later, all five of them sat inside a holding cell at the LAPD, heads bowed as none of them dared to make eye contact with each other. It was early morning by the time all of them had been processed, and they were all varying levels of exhausted. The time passed at a frustratingly slow pace, although there was no way of telling what time it was. Thankfully, they were the only ones in the cell at the time; if there had been other inmates it would’ve sent Alex’s nerves past their threshold. A guard sat just outside a doorway to the rest of the station while another sat directly outside the cell.

Alex was tempted to wrap his arm around Willie’s shoulders, since he remained dissociated, but the eye contact from the officer sitting across from them was too unsettling. He didn’t like the thought that came through his mind - the one that made him feel like an even worse criminal, even though he knew he wasn’t. Stubbornly, Alex fought to push the feeling away, and settled for putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder. There was almost no reaction, but then Alex saw his brown eyes flicker in his direction and that was all the peace he needed.

“It’s my fault, you guys,” Reggie murmured, barely peering up from where his head hung dejectedly. “I was just so caught up in getting back - ”

“It’s not your fault, Reggie,” Bobby interrupted him gently. “He was waiting for us.”

Luke didn’t speak. His eyes couldn’t leave his empty hands. Alex almost couldn’t look at him; it was a sad image.

They had all been so sure that Caleb was finally out of LA, never spoke about their plans at the studio, had been so careful about the way they acted around him - there was no way. There was just no way that he could’ve been so ready to show up just as they were trying to get the master copies of their album out of his hands. And worse, now Alex had dragged Willie into it, and the guilt mounted even higher from there.

A female officer approached the cell with a clipboard, not bothering to look up from the page she had her eyes glued to.

“Bobby Wilson?”

Bobby raised his head at the sound of his name.

“You have an older brother here to pick you up,” she said monotonously. “You’re free to go.”

The door to the cell was opened and Bobby made his way out in slight confusion. He threw a conflicted look back toward Luke.

“Did he say if I was taking anyone with me?”

“He came for Bobby Wilson and Bobby Wilson only.” Her tone shut down any further questions that he had. Looking back apologetically, his shoulders slumped as Luke shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luke said, although not as assuring as he likely wanted to be. “I’ll be fine.”

Alex watched as Bobby’s eyes lingered for a few seconds on Reggie, who was still hunched forward with his gaze fixed on the concrete floor. It seemed so uncharacteristic for him, but Alex understood he was probably shutting down at the mere thought of returning home. The emotions ran high enough in his home as it was. They hadn’t really been given options as for who got called when they’d been brought to the police department. Finally, Bobby turned and took the car keys and wallet that had been confiscated and disappeared.

Luke moved closer to Reggie and put a hand on his back, and he began muttering something to him. They were just far enough away that Alex couldn’t properly hear what they were saying.

“Sheldon’s gonna be so freaked out when I get home,” Willie spoke suddenly. Alex turned to see him finally looking around the cell, fully aware of his surroundings.

“Hopefully he’ll be okay,” he assured. “They can only hold us for up to twelve hours; that’s what they said.”

Willie looked at him and nodded, eyes once again immediately training themselves onto empty space.

“How are you doing?” Alex asked carefully. Willie didn’t move his eyes, but he appeared to be brought back into focus again.

“I just have all these images running in my mind,” he said. “Things he did. Things I did. He decided to pretend I was dead rather than deal with my existence. It’s like he was already trying to bury me by taking away any connection to my past. Sometimes I wonder what I was like before the accident. What if I deserved this?”

For a minute, Alex merely sat with his jaw agape, as if he’d been slapped upon hearing what Willie was saying.

“Wha- ? No. Willie, that can’t be right,” he started. “You couldn’t possibly deserve any of this, no matter what happened in the past.”

Willie shook his head.

“I was in the foster system, Alex,” he argued. “From the few things I know, I was passed around a little bit. Caleb was someone who took difficult kids; he had a reputation with social services. I wanted him to be the bad guy because I got a taste of something better, but when I look around, Alex? I have no one to call. Not even family.”

It was the first time Alex had seen tears well up in his eyes since the night at the Stratosphere, but he felt that any comfort he wanted to offer wouldn’t be accepted. All he could do was look back at this beautiful boy who deserved far more than he believed, brow furrowed in silent protest. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Willie had a point. There was a possibility that the guys’ dislike of the man had become biased based on Willie’s story, as unintentional as it may have been. Still, Alex refused to believe that it was because Willie was the real menace.

“Look, we may never know the truth,” he started, trying to look at him as directly as he could. “But I’m the one who got you here; I take responsibility for that. And sometimes having someone to call doesn’t mean they’re there for you.”

Willie gave him a look that was mixed, but he mostly read concern. Frankly, Alex wasn’t sure what his own parents’ reaction would be, but he didn’t dare hope for any sort of understanding.

“Reggie Peters?” The same female officer approached the cell again with her clipboard.

Reggie turned away from his conversation with Luke, sucking in a nervous breath.

“Your mother is here to take you home; you’re free to go.”

Pressing his lips together anxiously, Reggie simply bowed his head as he was escorted out the same way Bobby had been. Luke promptly spread himself out along the bench, pulling his beanie over his face.

For a while, Alex let his mind wander as he kept his hand resting on Willie’s shoulder. What Willie had said made him want to reevaluate the whole situation with Caleb. It wasn’t that he thought Willie was as bad as he said he was, but it stood to be examined. He remembered the difference between his short first impression of the man at the diner, and the second time he’d seen him. He even remembered his own reasoning - how it was possible that Caleb could come off as so severe while running a diner but maintain such charisma while serving guests.

A pang of memory also came as Alex had noted he didn’t seem like a straight man and after months of actually working with him there was even greater evidence toward that notion. It had been what made Alex want to trust him in the beginning. Finding an adult figure who offered him a break from being constantly vigilant about the way he naturally felt had been a blessing. Not even Alex could ignore that. However, something still told him that just because they had that in common didn’t make Caleb trustworthy.

“Luke Patterson?” All three boys looked up in surprise when they heard the officer’s voice a third time. Luke clutched his beanie to his chest, confused most of all as he sat up from the bench. Instead of announcing who had come for him, the officer stepped aside as two familiar faces came toward the cell.

Julie Molina and her Aunt Victoria looked at the boys, both with stern expressions.

“Julie?” Luke uttered in surprise, standing up from the bench and slowly moving toward her.

Folding her arms, Julie had her eyes fixed on Luke with a brand of disappointment that appeared to burn like acid. She flashed the same look toward Alex for a moment and he was duly stung. Luke could make all the sad, pleading puppy faces he wanted, but ultimately was struck dumb by knowing he had no room to speak.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Julie told him, the chastising tone not to be missed. Luke’s face fell and he hung his head, looking back toward Alex with a similar apologetic look as Bobby had given.

Alex caught Victoria also looking at him. It was still stern, but more in telling him she was let down. Why it compounded his already guilty feelings even more, he couldn’t understand. Her expression changed, however, as she looked at Willie next to him, as though she were trying to recall where she recognized him. Immediately forgetting his guilt for a moment, Alex perked up and subtly pointed a finger toward him, mouthing the name “Willie!” to her. She looked at him incredulously, and it was a shame the officer was already escorting them out with Luke, because he was sure she had questions.

“Was that Julie’s mom?” Willie asked. Startled, Alex looked at him and cleared his throat.

“Ah, no, that was her aunt,” he told him. “Her mom is still in the hospital.”

“Oh,” Willie replied, casting he gaze to where they had left with a look of empathy. “That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed.

For the second surprise that night (morning? Alex couldn’t tell), and for the fourth time, the female officer returned.

“William Taylor?”

Willie looked at Alex in utter perplexity, and then back at the officer.

“Um…” he began saying. Before he finished, Flynn came around the corner accompanied by a woman both boys assumed was her mother.

“Hey big bro!” she said in a highly exaggerated tone, sending them a gigantic wink with a grin that was very out of place. “Looks like you messed up big time mister!”

Willie could only stare back in shock. Alex was too busy trying not to laugh at her poor acting skills. It was so obvious that she and Willie weren’t family.

“Hey...sis,” Willie said finally, still unsure what was happening just then.

Holding onto the bars and leaning close into the holding cell, Flynn dropped the grin immediately.

“Julie tipped us off and Alex’s parents aren’t coming, so we’re doing you guys a big favor,” she said to them in a low voice, laying on the irritation and topping it off with a tilt of her head and a smile that suggested murder.

Promptly, Willie stood up and was let out of the cell, still looking at Flynn and her mom in bewilderment. Alex sat with his hands folded in uncertainty.

“Him too,” Flynn’s mom nodded toward him. The officer opened the door for him and Alex sighed as he came out, realizing just how high his nerves had really been while sitting there for the past few hours. He could suddenly feel the blood rushing into his fingers again.

As he and Willie followed Flynn and her mom outside, he wasn’t surprised that his parents had opted not to come get him. If he guessed right, his father would’ve refused to go in some backward attempt to show tough love, and his mother would’ve been barred from going herself to show she agreed with the choice. Both he and Willie thanked Flynn’s mom as they sat in the back seat of her van.

Flynn turned around in the passenger seat as they drove off and Alex knew what was coming.

“How many times am I gonna save your ass?” she directed at Willie.

“Language, honey,” her mom warned. Flynn rolled her eyes, but backed down a little.

Willie smiled nervously at her.

“Third time’s a charm?” he offered with little confidence.

“There better not be a third time,” she cautioned. “Seriously, what were you thinking?”

Alex opened his mouth to respond but she put up a hand.

“Actually, save it. Anything I have to say is just what Julie will say to you guys later, and she’s the one who’s really mad at you. Right now, I’ve got permission to skip school and I’m not gonna waste it lecturing you two.”

Sharing a look with Willie, both boys were happy to at least not have to endure Julie’s wrath right that minute. It was only imaginable what Luke was going through at the moment.

“So, how did you know I was there?” Willie asked.

Flynn leaned back into the correct position in her seat and took in a deep breath.

“Julie’s aunt is supposed to be on sabbatical, but apparently she can’t stop doing little bits of work here and there. She’s an investigator. Anyway, I guess she was doing something at ungodly hours on a Sunday night for God knows why, and she was already in the station when Sunset Gets-Caught-Being-Stupid was brought in. I guess she tried to make sure nobody called the Pattersons because she promised Julie she won’t, and she found out there was a fifth kid with no emergency contact so she had Julie call me, and I had to wake up at six-thirty this morning to an angry Julie and while I, for one, don’t care that you were trying to steal something, the way y’all did it was just so dumb, I can’t even stand to look at y’all - ”

“Okay, we get it,” Alex interrupted.

“But the important thing is,” Flynn continued. “We can’t take you guys home. Sorry.”

“Wait, why not?” Alex asked.

“I have one hour before I need to be in the office,” Flynn’s mom told them. “So I’m putting my girl in charge of you two for the day.”

Flynn looked back at them smugly.

“Oh, I’m putting you two to work,” she said, not hiding how much she enjoyed being in a position of power.

Alex could only gesture with his hands in a manner of saying “ah, well,” and sighing in acceptance. This was loads better than dealing with his parents for the time being. And Willie seemed to have finally broken entirely out of the strange trance he’d been in ever since they’d seen Caleb.

“Do we get a nap first?” Willie asked. “‘Cuz we’ve been awake all night.”

Flynn’s eyebrows shot up in realization and she flopped back into her seat again with a sigh.

“That’s fair.”

It was well past noon by the time Alex opened his eyes. They had thanked Mrs. Taylor and then immediately passed out on the living room couch. Barely gaining his bearings, he found Willie still zonked on the opposite arm of the couch. He couldn’t help but admire his sleeping form, so much calmer than any other time he knew. The sunlight streaming in from the blinds glanced perfectly off his cheekbones and highlighted the rich brown tones in his hair. Alex had been struck by how handsome he was from the second they met at the diner, but he’d hardly gotten a moment to properly appreciate how beautiful he was.

Somehow there was something so lonely about him that brought an ache to Alex’s chest. Their conversation from earlier replayed in his mind. Willie really seemed to believe he didn’t belong anywhere when the only thing Alex wanted in the whole world was to keep him tightly in his arms. He really hoped to show Willie how much he meant to him some day.

“Oh my god, you are so in love with him,” he heard Flynn saying as she stood at the edge of the living room. He was too tired to give a proper response and could only turn to her still wearing a look of fondness. “Oh my god, stop, you are so precious!”

All Alex could do was lightly chuckle in return. Flynn tilted her head adoringly.

“And to think I was there from the beginning,” she reminisced.

Alex had a realization hit.

“I never said thank you, did I?”

She shrugged.

“No. But now you get to pay me back by doing all the chores my mom left for you.”

Heaving a sigh, Alex sank back into the couch and pressed his lips together, already reeling from exhaustion.

“Yep,” he muttered before reaching over and grabbing Willie’s hand, gently shaking it to kindly wake him up.

“Sheldon...stop,” Willie groaned as his tired face pinched together against the light. Alex giggled as he leaned over and tried shaking his shoulder instead.

“Hey, it’s me,” he said in a low voice, watching as Willie’s eyes fluttered open and immediately gazed back into his face. The absolutely enamoured smile that spread from cheek to cheek as he took in Alex’s face framed with his hair hanging down was more than Alex could take, and he felt honest-to-God butterflies in his stomach.

“Hey,” Willie murmured, his voice a pitch lower than usual from being asleep with just the right amount of vocal fry. It took all of Alex’s strength not to smother him right there on the couch.

“I really do hate to break this up, you lovebirds,” Flynn told them. “But it’s time to get to work!” She clapped her hands and the boys clambered off the couch, still sharing admiring looks at each other. She led them through her house, listing off the many things her mom had demanded: cleaning bathrooms, weeding the garden, and mowing the lawn were all there.

“And last but not least,” Flynn was saying as she led them upstairs. She flung the door open to an unfurnished room with bare walls and plastic covering the floor. “Painting!”

Alex saw Willie’s face transform from bleary task mode to shining with joy at the prospect of getting to paint. He wasn’t sure what it was, but everything Willie did was making him fall even further in a way he hadn’t thought possible. They were doing household chores for heaven’s sake. It made him consider doing all the rest of the chores just to let Willie do something he enjoyed. After seeing his reaction to Caleb, Alex thought it would lift his spirits more than anything.

“I say we divide and conquer then?” he suggested, putting a hand on Willie’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. Willie tore his eyes away from the unpainted walls to give Alex a puzzled look. Before he could ask questions, though, Alex simply looked him directly in the eyes and nodded toward the room before them, insisting he stay and paint without saying a word. He saw Willie’s expression soften and one corner of his mouth turn up in a delighted smirk once he understood the message.

“Okay,” Willie muttered to him, facing the bare walls with newfound glee.

Willie watched Alex head back down the stairs and he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with gratitude. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend as much time with him as possible - looking into that angelic face as he’d woken up had spun his head more than anything else in his life - but it was just the thought of how he was suddenly in Alex’s world and it was so...different. It vaguely reminded him of hanging out with everyone after the show at the Pearl, but it appeared to be so much deeper and so tight-knit. Julie and Flynn and their families went so far as to stick out their necks for the guys when they really had messed up, and it wasn’t even an obligation. Even being made to do housework for people who were still practically strangers to him felt like he was being taken in with open arms. He had the intruding thought that he’d eventually wear out his welcome.

“So, are we painting everything the same?” he asked Flynn, rubbing his hands together. Flynn wagged a finger and smiled with excitement.

“No,” she teased. Going over to a corner, she lifted two cans of paint, handing one of them to him. Looking at the swatch smeared on the top of the lid, Willie smiled to see a lovely teal, and then sunflower yellow on the can in Flynn’s hands.

“Oooh yes, these are some good choices,” he said, rolling up a sleeve with his free hand. All the worried thoughts could be put aside as they began popping the lids off and mixing the paint. “Have you got a hair tie I could borrow?”

“There is something about a boy asking me that question that just feels amazing,” Flynn commented as she briefly headed out to fetch one. Giggling at her remark, Willie lifted the paint mixer and watched the color drip into the can in fascination. There was something familiar about the notion of painting that made him wonder if it was something he’d done often before. Before forgetting. Would putting the brush in his hand unleash some kind of muscle memory or sense of nostalgia for something he didn’t know he had? Flynn returned with the hair tie and handed it to him, and he immediately pulled his hair back into a small bun.

“Alright, so these walls are gonna be the teal green color,” Flynn instructed, pointing toward the walls furthest from the window. “And these over here are gonna be yellow. I’ll start with the yellow and meet you at the corner, sound good?” Willie nodded at her as she moved her paint supplies over to the opposite side of the room, putting her braids up into a ponytail as well.

“Copy that,” Willie replied.

Once the paint was all mixed they got to work, both silently focused on the task at hand. For a while, all that could be heard was the repetitive swipe of brushes against the texture of the wall. There had been no sweeping rush like Willie imagined, but a gentle comfort quickly took over as he watched the color fill the empty space. He heard a loud buzzing outside and for a moment, peeked out the window to see Alex steady at work mowing the lawn below.

“So,” Flynn started, almost making him jump as he turned his attention to her. “It looks like our skater boy likes to paint; do you do art too? I saw your face.”

Chuckling, Willie hadn’t realized he’d gotten himself stuck in a situation that warranted friendly banter. Out of all of Alex’s friends, though, she was the one he’d seen the most, now that he thought about it. Despite how aggressive she had appeared at first, he really enjoyed her energy.

“Yeah, actually I draw. A lot,” he told her.

“Nice!” she nodded. “What kind of stuff do you draw?”

“People...places,” he said thoughtfully as he continued painting. “Memories.”

Flynn kept nodding, her expression becoming more pensive. “Cool.... Memories are interesting. Did you do a lot of cool things when you were little?”

Willie chewed on his tongue for a minute, realizing she still didn’t know. Even now that he’d been away from Caleb for a while and Alex’s reaction had been so kind, sometimes speaking of his amnesia still felt like something that wasn’t allowed. Regardless, it was a pretty important detail.

“I actually don’t know,” he stated. Flynn’s eyebrows knit together in response. “I was in an accident a little over a year ago, and I don’t remember anything - well, I remember a few things, but not a lot. Whatever I can figure out, I try to draw it so it stays with me.”

She gave him a long sympathetic look. Every time it was different; Alex had been a little shocked but then really sweet, Bessie had merely brushed over it like it wasn’t anything crazy, and now Flynn had her big brown eyes staring with such sadness in them. Again, he wondered how much he had really lost along with his memory. It seemed to be a thing everyone else could properly mourn, knowing the difference, but he couldn’t no matter how much he tried.

“That’s really awful,” she said. “I��m sorry.”

Willie only nodded, accepting her words.

“It sucks, but I manage,” he said. They both resumed painting after noticing they had stopped for a moment.

“I mean, you made it here, which is pretty amazing,” Flynn told him. “Well, not here as in we just picked you up from the police station, but you know, you left Vegas and have your sweet job at the record shop.”

He shrugged, trying to be casual. Those thoughts were getting to him today in a way they hadn’t ever before. The ones that said he was still messing everything up anyway. He was just in a different city with a different job. It was great that he’d miraculously found Alex, which had been his entire goal, but now that he’d passed that step in his plan, life went on. And it hadn’t really become so different, now that Caleb had his hands on things again. There were still so many questions about that as well, because he really did wonder if maybe he had made everything out to be worse in his mind. Caleb had been his guardian for three years and Willie was one of numerous kids - he couldn’t be that insidious, could he?

“I said, ‘you’re dripping paint on your shirt!’” Flynn repeated to him, enunciating loudly and snapping him out of his train of thought.

“Oh,” he started, looking down at his now ruined shirt and then continuing to work on the wall. He could live with it.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just keep thinking.”

“Uh huh. Whole lot of nothing to think about in there.”

Willie shot her a slightly wounded look. She rolled her eyes.

“Sarcasm, sorry. Looks like you have so much on your mind you can’t even function. So what’s up?”

He looked at her, unsure where to begin. It was great that she seemed easy to trust, because it made him less hesitant about talking, but he didn’t want to turn the painting session into something else. His mouth betrayed him though.

“I just keep thinking that maybe I have everything wrong and I brought all the guys down with me,” he confessed. Flynn didn’t respond, but listened quietly. “I met Alex and it was amazing! And I got it in my head that maybe being here with him would make everything better. But it looks like I’m just a bad influence.”

Flynn had nodded along until that last sentence, to which she tilted her head and squinted.

“Hold up,” she said. “Alex told me Caleb was your guardian, right?”

Willie nodded.

“Who also told Alex you were dead for no good reason?”

He nodded again.

“And you think you’re the bad guy here?” She had set down her brush and placed her hands on her hips.

Taking in a deep breath, Willie prepared to explain.

“Well - ”

Flynn simply held up both hands to shut him up.

“Willie. Buddy. You’re just a kid.”

You’re just a kid.

The words echoed around in his brain for a little bit as he let them settle in. She was right. Somehow he’d lost sight of that.

“You made some mistakes, I get it,” she continued. “But you’re not the bad guy. You’re still figuring things out. Actually, you know what I first thought of you? Well, actually, my first thought was that you were some creep who was trying to get into my friend’s concert, but after that, you know who I saw? A really good guy trying to show someone he cared. And bad people don’t do that.”

For a long time Willie just stared back at her in amazement. Somehow Flynn had managed to completely obliterate any other self-deprecating thought he had. It was the most human he’d felt all day. There was a sticky thud as his brush landed on plastic and he rushed to throw his arms around her.

“Oh!” she cried in surprise, slowly accepting the hug in return and patting his back. Willie squeezed her tightly and then stepped back, chuckling to himself as a small wave of embarrassment hit.

“Julie has good taste in friends,” he told her. “You’re really good at those pep talks.”

Flynn beat her chest with her palm and graciously took the compliment.

“Thank you.”

Willie picked up his brush again and continued working. He almost laughed when he had the thought that while he technically already had a boyfriend, Flynn was his first real friend. He was going to make that count.

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 6

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/630198057513943040/odins-ward-chapter-5

Pairing: Loki x Fem Reader

Word count: 2882

Warnings: None

Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24

Y/n’s POV

“It is quite surprising that Prince Thor has not yet gotten serious in his courting habits.” Lady Naerys pushes a lock of copper hair out of her eyes in indignation. “For what it’s worth, I am a wealthy, eligible woman of noble birth.”

Lady Kare nods in solemn agreement. “He will be King in the next hundred years or so. It is time he commits to a wife.”

“I don’t know,” I smirk, thinking back to Thor’s gallivanting. “I think Prince Thor is quite satisfied with his current way of doing things. I’m sure when the time is right, he will settle down.”

Lady Naerys rolls her eyes. “Oh, as if you would know.”

Her easy dismissal of me strikes a nerve I did not know I had. I straighten, my voice quickly becoming tight with annoyance. “I would, actually. He happens to be one of my good friends.”

Lady Naerys lifts her goblet as if to take a sip of her wine, but instead uses it as a ‘cover’ so she can attempt to discreetly gossip with Lady Kare. “It seems as if she has shared his bed also.”

I sputter. “I have not!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” A cold, mean smile crosses Lady Naerys’ pinched face, and I know her apology lacks sincerity. “You’re more likely to be spending your nights with his brother.”

“Clearly the lesser of the two,” Lady Kare chimes in with a boldness uncharacteristic of her usually demure demeanor.

I grit my teeth and clench my fists so tightly that spikes of pain shoot up my arm. “That is not true—none of that is true!” We’re standing in a central corridor in the palace, and my voice has grown quite loud, echoing easily off the stone walls. I don’t care. “We have grown up together and friends is all we are. Besides! Even if I was spending my nights with Loki, it would be none of your business!” Their eyebrows shoot up at what they likely hear as an admission. I hasten to clarify. “But I’m not. And Loki is in no way the ‘lesser of the two.’ He is thoughtful, and intelligent, and a great friend and one of the funniest people I’ve ever met, and anyone would be lucky to have him!”

Lady Naerys looks like she’s just won a prize. “Loki? You do not use his proper title? How…familiar.”

“Ugh!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “I guess you lack the intelligence necessary to—”

“Hello, Lady Naerys, Lady Kare, Lady…Y/n.” Loki has materialized behind me and I can hear the barely restrained humor in his voice.

Oh he must be loving this.

I mentally roll my eyes. The two women hastily curtsy, and I do a stilted version of the same.

Loki comes to stand by my side, his hands clasped politely behind his back. “May I borrow Lady Y/n? There is a book I would like to discuss with her.”

Lady Kare curtsies once more and immediately goes to leave, but Lady Naerys is slower to follow. I can see in her eyes that she, like me, suspects Loki’s book explanation to be a ruse. She keeps her gaze locked in our direction until she finally turns the corner.

As soon as the two are gone, Loki throws his head back in laughter. “I could hear you yelling from halfway across the castle! My, my, you do get angry. Best not let anyone else see you behave this way. They’ll resurrect Nanny Idsol and place you back under her care.”

“Ugh.” I close my eyes and look to the ceiling. “Do not bring up that horrible woman. I cannot take any more annoyance today.”

He holds up his hands in mock-surrender. “As you wish. What were you arguing about? I could hear the sounds of yelling but not discern words.”

“Oh, you know….” I try to be nonchalant. “Just little, random things.”

His eyes sparkle. “Ah, yes. You are well-known to be upset by the prickling inconveniences of life.”

I huff. “Fine, if you really want to know.” I lower my voice to a hush, and he leans in to better hear me. “Lady Naerys and Lady Kare are quite vexed that Thor has not chosen a wife—specifically one of them—and when I defended him, they turned on me.”

He knows that’s not all of it. “And then…?”

I huff again for good measure and cross my arms. “And then they first insinuated that I am sleeping with Thor, and when that didn’t work, determined that I am sleeping with you.”

Emotion flickers quickly across his face, disappearing behind a cool mask before I can decipher any specific reaction. I consider telling him the true reason for my anger, that they were talking badly about him, but decide against it. It seems too vulnerable to admit that, and I don’t want to make him aware of people’s dwindling opinions of him. Best to just keep that to myself and let him think I was defending my own honor.

Loki expresses his regret. “My pulling you away probably didn’t help. I shall speak to them at once and get this cleared up.”

“Oh, no.” I throw out an arm before he can get away. “Let me stop you right there. You going to defend me would probably just solidify the idea in their heads that we’re together. Don’t worry about it, anyway.” I shrug. “I’m mostly over it now that they’re gone.”

He chuckles. “Though she be quick to anger, she forgetteth fast.”

I roll my eyes and give him a little shove. “So what did you want me for, anyways?”

His eyes light up, and I can’t help but feel warm at the happiness on his face. “I found a lovely spot in the forest while on my last hunting expedition, and I can’t help but get the feeling that you would adore it. Will you accompany me?”

He thought of me while he was away? My heart gives a little flutter.

I freeze.

Why did it do that?

Loki stiffens, noticing my less-than-enthusiastic reaction. “Of course, given the suspicions of the ladies at Court and what that could do to your reputation, I couldn’t possibly expect—”

“Woah!” Getting over my little episode, I stop him before he can take back his offer. “Forget what everyone else thinks. I would love to go with you. When do we leave?”

He smirks and reaches for me.

“Oh, Loki—wait!” But I’m too late, for his arms have encircled my waist and we are catapulted into a sea of darkness.

I’ve teleported with Loki a few times before, yet it surprises me every time. The complete lack of sound and light, the nothingness. I wrap my arms around Loki’s back to anchor myself and bury my face in his chest in hopes of avoiding the nausea I know is coming. Within the next second, I hear the unsettling woosh of air as we re-enter a place with sound and my closed eyes are assaulted with light. The first true sound I register is Loki’s laugh bubbling from deep in his chest.

“You asshole!” I pull a hand from around his back and smack him in the chest. “Every time!” I go to hit him again, but he catches my wrist.

“Attacking a prince of Asgard and using rude words? You’ll be jailed for this, surely.” The mischief in his eyes betrays the words I already know to be untrue.

I shrug and step away from him. “Your call. Just know that you’ll have to come by every day and entertain me, otherwise, I’ll get destructive.”

He chuckles. “I have no doubt about that.”

“Good then, so we’re agreed. I get to torment you relentlessly with no consequences.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, and I give a toothy grin. “So, where’s this place you wanted to show me?”

“If you would turn around, Lady Y/n.”

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes for the umpteenth time since seeing him five minutes ago, I do as he says.

What I see is so beautiful and personal that it can only be the product of magic.

It’s a lovely meadow. Tall trees stretch to the sky, their leafy branches creating a canopy so the ground is shrouded in dusk. To the right edge of the meadow rests a clear blue pond that is the epitome of relaxation. Even the smell is wonderful—light, airy, and fresh. Yet none of these is the meadow’s most impressive feature, for it is filled with flowers in every pleasing shade of purple and green. It does not escape me that purple is my chosen color and green, his.

I exhale, unable to do anything more than stare.

“Well?”

I turn to see Loki looking oddly shy: hands clasped behind his back and an expectant smile on his face.

“Oh, Loki, this is wonderful!”

He lets out a breath he had apparently been holding and beams. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like is an understatement. This place is…perfect.” I turn to stare in awe once again at the meadow.

“I—” he clears his throat. “I know you like flowers, so…” He trails off and comes to stand beside me, joining in my admiration of the meadow.

I don’t believe for a second that this place exists naturally, nor that Loki just ‘happened upon it’, but I assume he has his reasons for not wanting to tell me he crafted this place himself, so I let it go for now.

“Can we stay? Or do you have business to attend to?”

He inclines his head towards me in a little bow. “My day is yours.”

My heart does that funny thing again, except this time…I’m not as tempted to ignore it.

“Shall we?” He extends an arm to the entrance of the garden, allowing me to walk in first. I do so slowly so I can take it all in.

My first priority is to examine each individual flower in extensive detail. Loki does not protest and accompanies me to each and every one, promising that before we return to the castle, I shall have a bouquet. After what has surely been nearly an hour, I take a break from admiring the flowers and recline near the pond. With a flourish of his hand, Loki procures a blanket and we sit upon it.

Something unsettling occurs to me, and I look nervously over my shoulder. “Loki, shouldn’t we have guards? What if we were to be attacked?”

He smirks. “Not to worry. I am much better equipped to protect us. The guards would only get in my way. Besides,” his smirk deepens. “I feel quite safe in your presence, what with you being equipped with a dagger and all.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “How did you—”

He shrugs. “A clever guess. Why do you feel the need to keep it on you while inside the castle? You know the guards have been ordered to defend you with their lives.”

A feeling of unease settles upon me. I don’t want anyone to die for me. “It’s just a precaution. And even if I don’t ever use it in battle, perhaps one day I’ll finally snap and cut off Lady Naerys’ pretty blonde hair.”

At this, he throws his head back in laughter, and I can’t help but join in.

I like this, I realize. I like when Loki and I are together, alone, just talking and laughing. I like being in his company. And it seems as though he enjoys being in mine, as well.

“Alright, stand up,” he orders, pushing himself off the ground.

“Why?”

He offers a hand that I take, allowing myself to be pulled up. “If you insist on keeping your dagger on you at all times, you may as well be properly educated in how to use it.”

I beam. “You’re going to teach me again!”

He nods, procuring a dagger of his own from who knows where. “Alright, first you want to get into a stance that will allow you to have the most control.”

The next two hours are spent concentrating on my form and different ways to block and land jabs. I’m not especially good, but Loki says it should be enough to defend myself until someone more skilled than I can come along.

We sit back on the blankets, both a little tired. “Will you teach me again sometime?”

He nods. “Of course, the next time we can both sneak away.”

I take one of his hands in mine. “Thank you, Loki. For everything.”

A smile breaks across his face. It’s one of my favorites of his smiles. No tricks, no hidden emotions, just plain joy. “You’re welcome, Y/n.”

We sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before realizing that it’s time to eat. Loki immediately makes a basket of food appear.

I grin teasingly. “Awe, you packed us a picnic!”

He rolls his eyes. “No, one of the kitchen maids did. I simply brought it with me.”

We distribute the food on the blanket and get to eating, having worked up quite an appetite during our lesson. A feeling nags at me, tugging on my stomach. I try to ignore it, but soon realize that I can do no such thing.

“Loki?” I trail off, losing my confidence.

He eyes me with concern, noticing the somber tone of my voice. “Yes?”

I take a breath, then let it out before forcing myself to ask the question weighing on my heart. “When my father calls me home and I’m married off, will we still be friends?”

Now his mood matches mine. He’s silent for a moment, pursing his lips and looking past my shoulder. Finally he speaks. “It is my truest wish.”

I lower my head to stare at the ground. “That’s not the same as yes.”

He sighs. “Once you’re a married woman, it won’t be proper…” he chuckles, surprising me. “But then again, when has that ever stopped us? Look at us now, sneaking away without chaperones to learn tricks with a dagger. Perhaps we can make it work. I will certainly try my best.”

I nod solemnly. “And I will do the same. I suppose that’s all we can hope for.”

He attempts to lighten the mood. “However, you have not yet been called back, so I say we do not let sadness saturate our evening. In fact, I suggest you look up.”

“Look up?” Confused, I tilt my head towards the sky and gasp as he takes me by surprise once again.

The leafy canopy above is slowly retreating to hug the tree branches, allowing us to see beyond them to the night sky speckled with stars. I can only turn and smile at Loki, who has a mixture of joy and fondness on his face. We lay back on the blanket and stare into the night sky. We don’t say anything. We just lie side by side, arms touching, and take in the majesty that is the night.

{***}

“Y/n….” I feel a hand on my arm, gently shaking me awake. “Y/n.”

I squeeze my eyes tightly before opening them, revealing the amused face of Loki hovering above me.

“Hello.”

I chuckle, pushing him out of the way so I can sit up. “Hi.”

“I contemplated leaving you here since you so rudely fell asleep, but I decided to be gentlemen and merely mess with your hair.”

A jolt of panic burns through my stomach and I bring my hands to my hair, dreading to reveal what he could have done to it. Within seconds, I realize that he’s only joking. My hair is fine.

“You are the worst.”

He throws his head back and laughs with abandon. “Your face was quite entertaining.”

“Mm, I’m sure.” I can’t, however, help from laughing a little myself. “Did I sleep long?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. We should be getting back, though. Dinner is soon and I can’t imagine how it would look if both of us were absent from the high table.”

That sets me into motion, and within a minute I am ready to leave. Loki gives me a little more warning this time, so I’m more prepared for the teleportation back to the palace. We reappear outside my bedroom door and quickly step away from each other, not wanting to look suspicious if anyone were to walk by.

“Lady Y/n, I thank you for a wonderful evening. I shall see you at dinner?”

I curtsy. “Yes, Your Highness, you shall.”

He bows, kisses my hand, smirks at the silly rules of Court we must follow, and walks away.

I glance down the hall to make sure nobody saw any of that, and am satisfied at the lack of people around. I open my door and quietly enter my room. The first thing I see upon entering is a beautiful bouquet sitting on my table, made up of flowers from the meadow. Just as Loki promised. Once again, my heart flutters.

Oh, Y/n. You’re in for it now.

A/n Hello again! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/632631074124660736/odins-ward-chapter-7

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99

#loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x reader fanfiction #loki x reader fanfic #thor #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader-insert #thor fanfiction #loki reader-insert #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x remale reader #asgard #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason

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seokoloqy · 4 years

Text

A Hunter’s Mark | knj (m)

➳ PAIRING: hunter!namjoon x hunter!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, f2l, Nevermore universe

➳ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

➳ WARNINGS: nothing too freaky, just making out, tiny bit of thigh riding action, yes I wrote c*ck, yes I wrote p***y but nothing else too detailed, implied smut, a little blood and injury

➳ SUMMARY: While Namjoon, the pacifist, has always been reluctant to kill beasts, you and him have officially been marked as hunters. Your first assignment doesn’t go as planned and it leads to confessions.

➳ A/N: you’ll be seeing a lot more of Namjoon in my necromancer fic, Nevermore! This is just a short little drabble expanding on the universe and Namjoons character ENJOY~

—

“Stop crying about it, Namjoon!” You shout, tugging on the back of his collar to get him out of bed. He’s been lying face down for hours and whining about the mark you both just received.

Today was your initiation as hunters. One of the rites included having a priestess sear a mark into your left eye that grants you the ability to see invisible supernaturals. It’s meant to aid you on hunts.

“I never even wanted this,” his muffled groan comes after you release his collar.

Namjoon has always been vocal about his disdain for hunting supernaturals. Despite his entire family being hunters, he refuses to follow the same path. He votes for living peacefully among vicious beasts instead of slaughtering them. He’s always had a weak heart. If he had seen the things you’ve seen—monsters tearing apart the innocent without mercy—he’d never hesitate.

“Everything is okay.”

He drags his face out of his pillow to look at you. His left eye, newly marked, is now a deep amethyst and where his pupil once was now in the shape of a pentagram. The pentagram represents protection from evil. It matches yours and all other hunters who’ve been marked.

“I saw a reaper today! She had this white veil on a-and scissors. How is that okay? I don’t want to see that!”

You’re starting to get frustrated with his whiny attitude. He needs to start seeing reality the way you do. Creatures like vampires and demons that prey on the vulnerable, sirens who seduce sailors to their doom with tempting songs, even mischievous fae that hide in the forest and lure victims in from town don’t deserve to live. They’ll never change like he wants to believe. All they do is destroy lives like yours.

You’d still have a family if they weren’t slaughtered by demons all for the fun of it. Experiencing tragedy like that is something Namjoon has never known and it’s exactly why he’s so naive to it all. You don’t want his delusions to end up killing him if he hesitates.

You don’t know what you’d do without him. Living a life without Namjoon is something you don’t want to imagine. It’ll be hard not to have his dimpled smile and warm hugs to comfort you or his intellect to get you out of trouble with the priestess. He’s always there to comfort and listen to your troubles, especially when dealing with the stress and fear that comes with being a hunter.

“Reapers won’t bother you unless they’re going to kill you. So please get up, Joon, I need you.” You grab one of his pillows and swing it at his head to motivate him.

He only glowers and buries his face back into bed.

“Come on! We have our first assignment,” you groan. “There are rumors that a vampire is staying at the inn.”

Namjoon grunts, shifting further away from you.

You settle yourself on the bed beside him, sighing dramatically. Your hand reaches up to card through his dark hair, leaning in closely to his ear. He can feel your breath on his blushing cheeks.

“If you don’t come I’ll go by myself without backup. And if I die I’ll ask the reaper to let me stay and haunt you.”

Namjoon visibly stiffens and finally turns his head back to you with a glare. He pushes himself out of bed and begrudgingly gets his things together.

—

The two of you walk towards the inn where the vampire is rumored to stay. At night the town of Nevermore becomes a quiet eerie place. The citizens never wander around at night in fear of being captured by anything lurking in the dark. Their biggest fear being so close to the ocean is the seductive siren’s song that is known for luring people out of their homes while they sleep.

You’re used to the emptiness at night with nothing but the ocean waves to calm your nerves. You glance at Namjoon who has been shuffling his feet behind you the entire time.

“Don’t be so mopey.”

He finally speaks up, “We don’t even know if this vampire has killed anyone.”

You roll your eyes. “Even if this one hasn't killed before, it will eventually. We need to stop it before that happens.”

“They don't have to kill,” Namjoon mutters. “If they find someone willing to give blood.”

You click your tongue, already knowing where he’s going with this. The kingdom to the North and its controversial vampire army that survives off the blood of volunteers.

Somehow they’ve managed to tame a whole group of vampires to serve them, but as a hunter, your instincts tell you those vampires are just waiting to attack unsuspected.

That kingdom doesn’t allow hunters, so it remains a mystery to you whether or not they use volunteers or sacrifice up their citizens as lambs to slaughter. You vote for the latter.

But there’s one thing that’s for sure. On the battlefield they’re the ruthless monsters you’ve always known, ripping apart the enemy and dancing victoriously in their blood. Their army is an unstoppable beast that is too dangerous to exist.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you groan. “As if anyone is insane enough to offer their blood to a blood thirsty vampire. Now come on. We still have a vampire to hunt.” You extend your hand out to him which he reluctantly takes, allowing you to drag him along. Your fingers curl around his hand, feeling the pulsing warmth.

“Right,” he sighs, following after you towards the inn.

—

Your first hunt isn’t going as well as you’d hoped.

Your body collides with the wall, knocking all the air out of you.

You both arrived at the inn and found the room where the vampire was residing. It seemed startled when you entered, pretending that it wasn’t going to harm anyone and that it only wanted a place to rest.

You didn’t believe a word of it, but Namjoon hesitated, giving the vampire the perfect opportunity to lunge at you.

Namjoon rushes toward you instead of drawing his weapon to kill the vampire.

“No,” you cough, scrambling to pull yourself off the ground and find your blades. You see them across the room, too far to get to in time. “Kill it! Forget about me.”

Namjoon ignores you, kneeling next to you to check your wounds. The vampire scurries out the window, dropping down five floors, a feat not too difficult for a monster.

“You’re letting it get away!” You push yourself onto your feet and dart towards the window just in time to see the vampire run off down an alley. You moan, palming your face, “the priestess is not going to be happy about this!”

The priestess at the hunter’s sanctuary may have a kind hearted and innocent facade when she’s sitting on a cushioned throne giving advice or caring for injured hunters, but when she snaps at those who allow beasts to get away, they’ll be lucky to walk away unscathed by her wrath. However, you two being brand new hunters, she might be lenient with punishment.

She’ll have to send another hunter to deal with your incompetence. You wonder which hunter will have to deal with this mess.

“It’ll be okay,” Namjoon tries to say, attempting to calm you down.

“Our first hunt,” you mutter dejectedly.

“It’s fine,” he brushes off, “let��s just go back to my house.”

—

“Don’t touch me!” You hiss, slapping his hand away from the scratch on your arm. You’ve had plenty of time to simmer over your failed hunt.

“I said I’m sorry,” Namjoon repeats, “I should’ve jumped in before he could grab you.”

You scoff, “that’s not why I’m angry. I’m angry because you let that vampire get away.”

He shouldn’t have run to you and you shouldn’t have let him convince you not to chase after it. By not pursuing the vampire and finishing the job, it already breaks the hunter’s code of fighting till your last breath. You're afraid of what the priestess will say most of all.

Namjoon crosses his arms. “I’m not sorry about that.”

You ball your fists at his words. How can he say that? Even if the vampire seemed to beg for its life it was all just a rouse to lower your guard. Now it’s free to go tear apart families because you two couldn’t kill it tonight. Namjoon had the chance to kill it but rushed to you instead.

“I can’t take it anymore, Namjoon! You can’t keep convincing yourself that these monsters will ever change!” You cry out, finally letting all your frustration flow. “You’ll get yourself killed one day and then I’ll have no one!”

Namjoon is the only person you have left. If he dies it’ll be one more person taken from you too soon.

Tears well up in your eyes as you stare at his shocked face. You move closer to him, almost blinded by the tears in your eyes as your shoulders begin to shake.

“Don’t leave me, Namjoon… I can’t lose another person I love.”

You love him and his tender heart, his sympathy, his selflessness. He’s the last person in this world who you love and trust. You’d do anything to protect him.

“You won’t.” His arms encircle you and he hugs you tightly. “I promise.”

“Then stop being so stupid.”

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart, shutting your eyes as a hot tear runs down your cheek.

He’s always so selfless, running in front of others to protect them whenever there’s danger without thinking of what kind of consequences would come from it. And the unwillingness to believe in the cruelty of monsters paired with that recklessness will only get him killed. He can promise that he won’t leave you all he wants, but you’ll never be able to believe it.

He holds you closely until your body stops shaking and you’re no longer crying. You sit together on the bed, thighs and shoulders touching.

“Namjoon?”

“Hm,” he hums, staring down at his intertwined fingers.

You dab your damp cheeks, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “Should we pretend I didn’t just confess my love for you?”

You’re not sure how he’ll react. He must not want to say anything that’ll upset you further. He doesn’t feel the same way, you think. He sees you more like a sister he grew up with.

“Why? I-” Namjoon swallows, feeling his hands get clammy, “I love you too.”

“Like a friend or sister, right?”

“No, I’m in love with you.” He emphasizes in love, trying to get you to understand how he truly feels. Namjoon stares into your eyes, his shy hands coming up to cradle your face. “I love you, ___.”

For a second time tonight, tears begin to well up in your eyes. This time you’re overjoyed.

“Swear by the gods!” You want to hear it again. You want to savor his words for as long as you can. Living the life of a hunter doesn’t guarantee a long, virtuous life. There is only one rule a hunter lives by: slaughter as many monsters as you can or die fighting.

For as long as you have left, you want to hear the words I love you.

“I swear by the divine gods above, that I am in love with you, ___,” he laughs, looking down at your smiling face.

Without hesitation you push your lips onto his, throwing your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

Namjoon, stiff and unsure at first, gradually relaxes and cups your cheek, returning the kiss.

Both your hands move at their own volition to eagerly strip each other of their shirts. You run your hands over Namjoon’s toned chest. Despite his reluctance to hunt, he maintains a nice physique to keep up with you during training.

His hand glides over your bare stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking and licking a perfect mark on your heated skin. From your neck to your shoulders, down between your breasts, he leaves evidence of his desire.

Your legs rub together, creating friction to barely satisfy the throbbing between them. Need builds up in you, threatening to explode, the longer he’s not inside you. Now, now, now, your body cries out for him. You need him so desperately, but…

“Namjoon,” you moan, pulling his attention away from your neck. “Can we do this?”

Should we do this?

Crossing the boundary between friendship and lovers is a big step. You’re afraid of what will happen if you both hand over your hearts to one another especially now when you’ve both become hunters.

“I’ve wanted you to be mine since the day we met.”

His mouth returns to the spot on your neck he favors, allowing his hands to wander again. Gently, he coaxes you to lay against his bed. When he pulls back from sucking bruises on your neck, his thick thigh presses against your core, sending a shock through your body.

Your hips move to grind against his flexing thigh, hungry for stimulation. It’s not enough to satiate the throbbing though. You can feel your underwear beginning to stick to your pussy from all the arousal.

Your arms are thrown around his shoulders when he dives back down and his hands begin to remove your restricting pants. They slide off without much struggle after you raise your hips and are discarded somewhere in the corner of his room.

Cupping your cheek to bring you close, Namjoon captures your lips in another heated and passionate kiss with tongues exploring each other's mouths. Your hands, craving for something to do, begin to wander downward, trailing down his toned back. He shivers under your fingertips raking over his skin. Your hands move down the waistband of his pants, working quickly to get them off and his cock free so you can see all of him.

“So eager,” he teases between uneven breaths, hissing as your hand wraps around him and teases his tip.

“I just want you right now.”

“Then go ahead and take me. I’m all yours.”

#bts #bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #namjoon fluff #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #bts drabble #bts scenario #i hate tags

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submissivekpop · 4 years

Text

ob sitim impotens sui; park jinyoung + kim yugyeom

Requested: no

Words: 1.000+

Warnings: m/m, f/m, light smut, vampire!reader + vampire!jinyoung x human!yugyeom in an established relationship, dom!reader x switch!jinyoung x sub!yugyeom, mentions of blood

A/N: the title has almost nothing to do with the story, it means something like "out of his mind because of thirst", but hey, it's latin, and latin is cool ;) Also I rewatched Twilight recently, which is why Jinyoung is going through some kind of Edward Cullen-ish drama

Jinyoung's eyes are dark with lust.

He licks his lips again - the third time in less than ten minutes - and you wonder how long it'll take before he breaks. He's hungry - no, he's thirsty - and so are you.

He's sitting in an armchair in front of your bed, red leather in deep contrast with his pale skin, a stoic expression only you can read painted on his face.

Yugyeom smells delicious. His back resting on your naked chest, head thrown back in pure bliss, you find it extremely hard to resist him. The soft flesh of his neck, skin red and sweaty, is calling you, and there's nothing you crave more than indulging in that sweet, sinful pleasure it gives you - both of you. But not yet.

Your right hand moves on its own, releasing the grip around his neck (and eliciting a desperate moan from him), a silent motion asking Jinyoung to join you. He shakes his head - it looks like he still hasn't changed his mind, and you're almost sure there's nothing you can do about it. He's still punishing himself for a small accident that resulted in a scared Yugyeom hiding behind you and a mortified Jinyoung disappearing for weeks - something both you and Yugyeom already got over, but Jinyoung... he can't let it go. Somehow, he thinks that starving himself is a good way to avoid it ever happens again. Well, no. Not starving himself, that would be too dangerous for everyone, including you, but he's been refusing Yugyeom's blood for almost a month.

"Hyung?"

Yugyeom shivers. Your hands - one roaming across his wide chest, the other jerking him off at an excruciatingly slow pace - are driving him crazy. He tries to buck his hips upward, but your legs are strong enough to hold him still.

Jinyoung's ears perk up. He moves closer, still not joining you, but leaning over to get a better view.

"Hyung?"

Yugyeom sounds so desperate, and you love it. He's been craving Jinyoung's touch for weeks, and now he can't take it anymore. He needs his hands, his mouth, his everything, all over him. Deep down, that's what Jinyoung wants too.

He stands up, makes his way to the bed and sits next to you. His fingers linger for a second over the younger's body, ghosting over all of the places he'd like to touch. He thinks of all the things he'd like to do to that boy - pushing his head on the pillow and relentlessly slamming into him, pulling his hair until he's begging him to stop, but also making love to him, touching him softly and overwhelming him with such sweet pleasure - and his eyes get even darker.

Yugyeom must notice, somehow, and moves against you so that his neck is even more exposed. Your nails trail across his skin - so soft and fragile - goosebumps following your every move.

"P-Please..." he begs, and you know exactly what he's asking for.

Before he can change his mind, Jinyoung's mouth is on his neck, white fangs sinking into the tender flesh. A broken moan leaves Yugyeom's lips, his whole body tensing up as an electric wave of pleasure crosses his body. Your free hand - the other is still jerking the boy off, despite the fact that white ribbons are already coating your fingers - instantly moves to Jinyoung's head, petting his hair as you wait for him to finish, ready to push him away if he seemed unable to stop.

Yugyeom feels dizzy, but he doesn't complain. The pleasure he's feeling is too much to make him worry about anything - also, he's sure Jinyoung will stop at the right moment. He always does.

"Fuck, I think I'm addicted to you" he grunts, licking his lips - and cleaning up the last droplets of Yugyeom's blood staining them - before cleaning up his neck, making sure there's not too much blood coming from the tiny wound his fangs left. Then, he moves away from him. Not too much, but enough to make sure he can resist the urge to bite him again.

On the other hand, Yugyeom, not yet satisfied, whines. A loud, almost pathetic, whine. He calls your name, then Jinyoung's, then yours again. You wouldn't even know how to describe the way he looks - and sounds - right now. You're almost tempted to give in and bite him, but you can't, not when you know he's way too tired to handle it - even if he'd never admit it.

"I think we should stop here, love" you whisper, your lips as close as possible to his ear, softly biting his lobe before leaving a quick kiss on his right cheek.

Jinyoung nods, agreeing with you, and then stands up, ignoring Yugyeom's pouty lips and the needy cry that comes from them. How he manages to be that needy, after all you've given him, you don't know.

"Just... one more time, noona. Please?"

You tsk, shaking your head.

"I can take it" he says, punctuating each and every word, not quite begging you, but not demanding either. He's trying to convince you - and you'd be more than willing to let him, if you thought there would be no consequences.

"Maybe tomorrow, hm?" you suggest, hoping that the promise of what might happen the next day is enough to keep him at bay for a couple of hours. After all, a couple of hours is all that separates you from tomorrow.

He's deep in thought, his brows furrowed, pondering whether it would be better for him to receive more pleasure - and pain - tonight, or to delay it until tomorrow.

"Why don't you get some sleep, love?" you ask, slowly moving away from him and readjusting his body so that he's now laying comfortably on the mattress. "We can't ruin you, if you're this tired already."

Somehow, your words seem to work. There is nothing that Yugyeom loves more than the idea of being completely and utterly ruined, but what really makes him change his mind is the fact that you said we (and not I). That word, so small and simple, holds the promise of a night he'll never forget, a night he's been craving for weeks. A quick look to Jinyoung tells you that it's what he's been craving as well. And you... well, the only thing you love more than having a pretty pet all for yourself is having two.

#kim yugyeom smut #kim yugyeom #sub!yugyeom #dom!reader #vampire!au #sub!got7 #got7 smut #got7 yugyeom #park jinyoung smut #park jinyoung #sub!jinyoung

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the-hotter-otter · 3 years

Text

Strangers || ATEEZ Fanfic

Seonghwa X OC

Mafia/Crime AU

3.7k words

Part 3 || chapter list || previous chapter || next chapter

Hyejin can’t fully commit to Seonghwa’s tempting offer, meanwhile Hongjoong continues to keep secretes.

Warning: blood, minor death, injury, violence, knife use

Angst, fluff, smut, cussing, violence, death

note: ayo shit will start moving soon I promiseee, I seriously don’t know where this story is gonna go but fuck it we’ll see.

No pov

Hongjoong wasn’t at all surprised when Seonghwa came into his office late at night. He could tell there was a lie in between the lines Seonghwa spoke when he confronted the two last week. Being best friends for years with a bit of blood, death and guns on the side really did bring people together.

“What’s her name?” Hongjoong asked, he couldn’t stay mad at Seonghwa. Hongjoong knew punishment wasn’t necessary on the eldest who was already racking his brain on it, as a leader he could tell when further discipline was needed and when it was best to leave it to their own self conscience. “If she’s staying here, I should at least know.”

“Lee Hyejin,” Seonghwa said, cursing the weird feeling of familiarity he felt after saying her name.

“Lee hyejin?” Hongjoong quirked an eyebrow, he’s definitely heard of the name from somewhere, he just couldn’t pinpoint where. “Sounds familiar.”

Seonghwa merely nodded, somewhat glad that Hongjoong didn’t directly question him. “I’ll take responsibility for her.”

Hongjoong liked the sound of that, though it didn't change the fact that he was overlooking one more person. “That means a lot of things hwa, keeping her in line, taking care of her, watching her and protecting her if shit goes down.”

“She isn’t 5.” Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not spoon feeding her.”

“But she knows.” Hongjoong reminded him, “and she knows she has you wrapped around her finger, people take advantage of that.”

“I can always shoot her.” Seonghwa said as if it were so simple.

Hongjoong looked him up and down, silently judging the older one. Hongjoong sighed, he wasn’t exactly up for this kind of conversation at 2:30am, “Dramatic much... Aish don't waste the bullets, the suppliers have been shitty to us lately.”

“What I’m saying is you won't have to worry,” Seonghwa said, “you’ll barely notice her.”

Hongjoong looked Seonghwa up and down, “you want her to stay that badly?”

Seonghwa was taken back by the other’s awkward perspective, “yes? There really isn’t any ulterior motive.”

Hongjoong gave a dawdled nod as he chuckled, “I’m playing with you hwa. Bring her in, I’ll let the others know of our latest addition.”

Seonghwa was about to step out of the office when Hongjoong suddenly spoke up again, “don’t forget about that task I gave you.”

Seonghwa gave a sharp nod, “I'll see to it by the end of the day.”

“Dont fuck up!” Hongjoong noted loud enough for the other to hear, he could imagine the rise he got from it. Deep down he was just joking, after all, Seonghwa never fucks up.

Hongjoong enjoyed the tease he gave his best friend, more often than not, the former was in tight situations with serious consequences, loosening up was often the last thing he’d find himself doing.

His smile was short lived when he suddenly felt the vibrations of his phone, and it wasn’t from the bold red one that was sprawled on the desk with the many papers. His face dropped drastically upon realizing that someone was calling the phone hidden deep in his pockets. There was only one person who’d be ringing.

Mazaki Meiyo.

“Yes?” Hongjoong cautiously spoke up, his eyes darting around the office. He got up and opened the door to check if anyone was giving his conversation a listen.

“They moved the deal.”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose, “when?”

“In an hour. You know just as well as me that this isn’t going to end smoothly.”

“Your deals rarely end well.” Hongjoong scoffed bitterly, he pulled the phone away from his ear when the other line went dead. He had to go now if he were to make it in time, he couldn’t afford to be late, not for these kinds of deals.

Hongjoong pushed off his seat and swiftly buckled his hidden artillery onto his thigh and around his torso, making sure that his best weaponry was in close reach, ready for whatever conflict he was about to get into. Pulling the hood over his masked face, he checked the location Meiyo had sent him.

The leader eyed the pile of paperwork that was due in a matter of days, he dreaded the inevitable all-nighters we’ll have to pull because of it.

As Hongjoong left the household in silence, he turned his main phone off completely and stowed it in a hidden compartment. No one was going to find him tonight.

Hyejin pov

I stared at the phone screen in dismay, the loan shark has been after my ass for the debt I’ve yet to pay. I've been trying, but even after much struggle I only possess half of what I owe.

I hated to take that offer from Seonghwa, the money from that deal would have covered my debt and rent from my residence long enough for me to make something out of a scrubby part time job, he just had to ruin me once more.

Then again, what other choice do I have? I leaned back on the wall of the alleyway, I don’t know anyone in this world. I was forgotten years ago, Seonghwa is the last person I’d go with, but he’s also the only one.

My eyes drifted to the tall buildings around, they blocked the sunlight from ever entering these shabby alleys with large bins and locked deserted gates and doors. I met with the gazes that had been watching me for a while now, in a building a few blocks away yet still in perfect view, two middle aged men who most likely reeked of cigarettes and alcohol admired me from their apartment which could easily come off as an abandoned building left to collect dust and grime.

I squinted my eyes as I felt my vision start to give into fatigue, unrealistic hues of blue and neons started bouncing around. Every now and then, the migraine in my head would dust my eyes with a cloud of grey that blurred my sight ever so slightly. I sighed as I began seeing four instead of two weird men. I tried to refrain from focusing on anything, the lack of good sleep and food had me feeling all sorts of murky effects.

Their stalkerish behaviour had been creeping me out for the past few days, despite it, I never saw a proper reason to leave the little spot I've claimed for rest. Plus, the odd duo hadn’t made any advances that had worried me thus far.

The day continued, and the city had been busy as usual. Bikes raced down the side of the roads and paths, scaring the uptight mothers into a slur of curses. Teenage girls carelessly skipped around in their tiny croptops, powdery make up and flaunty shoes with boys their parents have no idea existed. Cars drove with their temperamental owners honking and anything and everything, then there were the workers who were either strolling around after their shifts or sprinting in swerves around people in effort to not be late.

Yet here I was sitting in a slump not so far from the hoards of people, absorbing the natural noises of the city that started to sound more like blaring megaphones instead of white noise. 9pm had crept faster than I expected, truthfully I wasn’t sure whether or not to go through with Seonghwa’s offer. I still had a chance to reconsider, perhaps I could deal with the information for money? After all, a controversial topic surrounding Seonghwa would no doubt bring in a big sum.

I shook my head from the ludicrous thoughts, there was no guarantee in shady business, ever. It's a far-fetched plan, and the fact that I didn't have a name to my face meant I was that less convincing.

Though I knew this offer would mean gambling my safety and if I were to stretch the possibilities, my own life. I still wasn’t 100% on board with the whole moving in with Seonghwa and whatever team he’s apart off, neither could I fathom the thought of that sinful man working with people, and that’s without mentioning his sudden change in attitude towards his victims.

It was yet another reason why I’m so reluctant to associate with him, because this isn’t the Seonghwa I was familiar with, he was a stranger, and no one is at ease when they’re affiliated with someone they don't know, especially when that person had guns, knives and all sorts of deadly possessions in their grasp.

I groaned as I got up with a hazy mind. I looked up and to my suprise the stretchy men were back to watch me, it started to feel uncomfortable now. “Nice knowing you too I guess…” I keep my voice to a murmur. Soon I found myself heading to the meeting spot.

My heart feels enraged with regret, and it’s impossible to ignore. There was a mere few minutes till the clock struck 9, I can get out of here now or never.

The Central Train Station was quite grand. With multiple steps just to get to the entrance, neatly trimmed gardens surrounding the place and ancient pillars that held up the building. It was one of the older buildings that turned into a modern utility.

“Fuck...” I muttered under my breath, “no, fuck this.”

Before I could think I was already speed walking to get the hell out of here. I had pride, I could at least preserve that after losing everything else.

No pov

Blood coated the blade and splattered across the floor and walls of the office, the books on the shelf were drenched and soaking up every bit of red fluid. If only the man had just followed through with the deal, he wouldn’t have ended up dead.

“What a hassle.” Seonghwa sighed, as he wiped his blade clean on his way out, though it was satisfying seeing the horrors painted on his face as Seonghwa taunted him, revenge for the knife he flung at Hongjoong during their last deal not long ago.

Seonghwa analysed the slash along his shoulder area, it wasn’t serious at all but it sure did look ugly and soaked his dress shirt in a dark red, in the midst of the tension it felt numb but as his heart rate came down he could slowly feel the stinging pain emitting from the open flesh. He let out a relieved sigh after knowing that none of his own blood had ended up dripping anywhere.

If it weren’t for the man’s sleeping family in the other room, Seonghwa could have easily finished it off with a bullet but he had to move silently. In turn, it cost him when the man felt fit to fight back with his own blade.

Seonghwa felt Hyejin was partly accountable for his injury. 20 minutes was a bit of a rush for a mission like this, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the station in time. There was a chance that Hyejin wouldn’t even show up, and that chance made seonghwa unsteady and tense.

As he pulled up to a red light he felt a distant memory unfold, one that brought a sense of discomfort.

Laughter bubbled up in the front of the car, toothy smiles that twinkled despite the gloomy rain outside. The lull of the music had been turned down for a while now as the soft chatter continued.

“Hyejin, I told you I don’t need anything for my birthday.” Seonghwa insisted once more with a light chuckle, his one hand on the wheel while the other tried to hold her hand back. He watched in helplessness as she clipped the dangling toothless charm around the rear mirror of the car, her little laugh escaping her lips as it dangled between them.

“It’s cute! I’m telling you, you look just like him.” Hyejin insisted, “and that’s not even the best part.”

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile when the toothless unclipped in half to reveal a small photo framed inside, the details were minuscule but clearly contained the two of them on one of their more memorable dates.

“Ya, this looks expensive, how much did you spend on me.” Seonghwa diverted the conversation as he observed the matte black of the green eyed dragon.

“It wasn’t much, don't worry hwa.” Hyejin patted his hand, “I’ve got something else, it's more personal since I made it myself.”

“So you have something else now?” Seonghwa sighed, though his stupid grin betrayed the annoyed look he tried to show.

The red light cascaded from red to orange to green and before hyejin could whip out the other half of her gift seonghwa sped off, “fine! I’ll accept your gifts, love.”

Seonghwa sneered at the Toothless charm he had yet to take off, if anything it became part of his car’s identity, making it slightly easier to navigate the garage of small black cars, specially on the days when all the vehicles would be together.

Seonghwa had pulled to a slow stop in front of the station, hiding the charm was his first and foremost priority, Hyejin would most definitely recognize it.

As he was about to yank the chain off, the corner of his eyes caught a sudden shadow appearing at the window.

Completely forgetting about the charm, Seonghwa halted in his seat, his hand already clasped around the gun latched onto him. It wasn’t until a hesitant Hyejin peered through the window did he relax his grip. On the other hand, Hyejin was feeling anything but relaxed, especially after seeing the bloodbath of a man in the driver's seat.

“So you’ll take my offer?” Seonghwa asked as if it wasn't already obvious enough, Hyejin scoffed. Her response was seen through the way she snuggled down into the passenger seat in a strained sigh of relief after being situated on the hard concrete for days on days.

Throughout the ride Hyejin had kept a careful observation of the roads they had been speeding across, if worse came to worse, she could make a run for it.

Hyejin silently and subtly glanced around, the car itself hadn’t changed at all, not even the peppermint scent it gave off from the gum Seonghwa had been loyal to for most of his life, though it was currently heavily overpowered by the stench of blood. Hyejin didn’t want to know how and what got him that gruesome injury.

However, the most prominent and unusual feature that had still existed in the car was the all too familiar charm that dangled and swung around underneath the rearview mirror. The dragon's bright green eyes and toothy smile didn't go unnoticed, especially since Hyejin was the one who got it for him years ago.

Hyejin had the decency to stay silent about it, the stiffness of the air was already far too overbearing, there was no need to intensify it’s sour atmosphere.

“It’s not just me who lives here.” Seonghwa brings up,

“I figured.” Hyejin sighed, she had heard the many rumours over the years of how a certain group had been overturning the criminal world with unrivaled skill and accomplishments, they became big in the industry. This group of young, skilled men made a name for themselves and it became one feared by many, ATEEZ.

Though it wasn’t just their skill that had made them the talk of many circles, it was the people within the group, the majority of which already had a reputation high on their shoulders. Hyejin had heard of the promising sniper who had joined their ranks, the insanely witty dealer who knew how to smooth talk his way to riches, the stealthy man who snuck into and claimed dangerous possessions without a single sound.

Then there was the hitman who possessed the skill of 100 men, he was a young and promising lone wolf who had been rumoured to have joined ATEEZ.

Hyejin didn’t want to believe it was Seonghwa, in fact she didn't want to hear about anything related to Seonghwa, but it wasn’t possible when she was involved with loan sharks and illegal exchanges for the money she was in dire need for. Of course, because of her interactions with others, Hyejin was aware of Seonghwa’s growing skill and relevant changes, it disgusted her to say the least, how much better he had gotten at taking lives.

However the failed deal from last week confirmed her denial to be wrong, Seonghwa was well and truly closely associated with a group, and that group was no doubt ATEEZ.

“Dont try anything stupid.” Seonghwa warned, Hyejin rolled her eyes slightly, “I’m serious, I see the way you're memorizing these roads.”

Hyejin froze momentarily, she eyed Seonghwa who had removed his eyes from the road after stopping at a red light. Hyejin had forgotten how sharp he actually was, the intellectual from highschool still existed within him.

Hyejin got the chance to really see how much Seonghwa had changed, even underneath all of that stained blood and light smears of dirt, she could easily tell that his facial features had sharpened immensely, he wasn’t the same soft faced charmer that made highschool hearts throbs on a daily. If anything, Seonghwa now resembled a high class heartbreaker with a body count worthy enough for a world record.

Of course some things don't ever change, like his lush lip and stunning eyes that stared back at her. Before the awkwardness could settle, Hyejin looked away, subconsciously glancing at the toothless charm. Seonghwa noticed the glare she gave it, his hands went to take it off but was ultimately stopped by the swat Hyejin gave.

“What’s the point of taking it off now? You had years to do that.” Hyejin raised an eyebrow.

Seonghwa did not respond and merely sighed as he began moving on the road once again. Hyejin was taken back when they suddenly verged off into a bush area, what was a simple scenery of grass turned into a splatter of greenery. Trees towered high, vines and dense bushes had taken over, it was an untouched forest and they were driving right through it.

Hyejins eyes squinted in growing concern, she wanted to believe they were just passing through to get to another town, but her panic only continued to rise as they got deeper into the maze of nature. Her eyes glare at Seonghwa who seemed to have already expected her to build up doubts.

“Jump out and you’ll be as good as dead.” Seonghwa warned, as he quickly glanced at her stray hand reluctantly reaching for the handle.

“Where are we going Seonghwa….” Hyejin glowered at the driver who was rather unfazed. Even when the subtle sound of a knife being drawn was heard, Seonghwa didn't look away from the road.

The driver pushed his head back against the seat as soon as he caught sight of the fast approaching knife. With the blade a finger's length away, Seonghwa sighed, “I’m not gonna hurt. We’re going to the house, so put the knife down and have a little faith.”

“Who the hell lives in a goddam forest?!” Hyejin hissed in a raised voice, her eyes teared up from staring so intensely into his side profile.

“Put the knife down or we’ll both die.” Seonghwa lowered his voice, and Hyejin did not comply. The male halted the car to connect his eyes to hers, in one swift and unnoticeable movement, he grasped her wrist tightly, causing the knife to be let loose and drop to the pit of the car. Hyejin suddenly let a sharp exhale out as Seonghwa pinned her hand down in between them. She cursed her hazy headaches for causing the drastic disadvantage against Seonghwa.

“Stop panicking, we’re almost there.” Seonghwa said as he began driving once again, Hyejin didn’t attempt to squirm out of his hold.

“Your a fucking joke,” Hyejin hissed, “I’ll never put faith in you, not after all the shit you’ve done to me.”

Soenghwa pinched his lips together at the indirect upbringing of her family’s murder. He wasn’t about to smooth that mess out now, it’ll require a calmer Hyejin and a better situation to explain.

Hyejin tried to compose herself, but she knew the only way to soothe her panic was to see proof of what Seonghwa was saying.

As they pulled into the driveway of Horizon, Hyejin's tense shoulders melted into the seat. Seonghwa scoffed as he got out of the car first. The jerking of his head signalled for her to get out, hyejin sneered at the man, “give me a damn second will you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before heading inside momentarily, most likely to check if anyone was still up in the early stages of the night. Hyejin took the time alone to get a good grasp at what she had just gotten herself into.

A house, full of dangerous men, in the middle of a forest and a single long ass road back to civilization.

This wasn’t ideal at all, and Hyejin started to regret this more than ever.

As she took in short breaths her eyes trailed back to the rear mirror charm. All of a sudden, curiosity had her fiddling with the Toothless till it unlatched. She furrowed her eyebrows at the sight of the blank frame. It wasn’t that she was disappointed, it was merely confusion.

“But you keep the charm…” Hyejin glared at the Toothless that was once a gift of love. In the back of her mind she wondered if her other gift was still intact.

Hyejin could worry about that later. Right now, she needed to stay sane and alive, she knew well enough that she would never be guaranteed a way out of death's grasps. Relish in the house and slowly pay off her existing debt? Yes. Get comfortable and trust that your back will be safe in a distant place full of criminals? Hell no.

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