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electronickingdomfox · 10 months

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"Planet of Judgment" review

A novel from 1977, by Joe Haldeman. It begins with a rather generic "stranded on dinosaur planet" plot, but then the story becomes far more unhinged and entertaining. By the end, I was wondering what drugs was the author taking. So yeah, recommended novel, for sheer insanity.

As usual, Spock is gay. Also, McCoy is probably gay too.

Spoilers under the cut:

The Enterprise arrives at a strange rogue planet, with its own artificial sun. Of course Kirk has to investigate the anomalous planet (aptly named "Anomaly"), and he lands there with some security guys in a shuttlecraft. The fact that the transporter doesn't work, should be hint enough that this planet is trouble. They encounter giant beasts similar to dinosaurs. Also pterodactyls. And soon discover that the usual laws of physics don't apply as they should. Their phasers only work on stun, they have no communications, and the shuttlecraft is dead. So far, no redshirt has died, so the Enterprise sends another shuttlecraft with more redshirts just in case. At last, since it's obvious everyone is trapped on that planet, Spock decides to send three more shuttlecrafts with a ton of people (including himself, McCoy, Chapel and Uhura) so the party can begin.

The first part of the novel deals with the crew trying to survive in the wild environment. There's also two strange, stream-of-consciousness scenes to show Kirk and McCoy's dreams. The crew spots some hominid creatures that they take for cavemen. Also, two redshirts finally die. One being half-eaten by a giant flower, in a surprisingly gory scene. There's more body horror ahead, as one injured redshirt vanishes suddenly, and returns the next day significantly changed. He has no eyes, ears or nose, as if they had never been there in the first place, and hair is quickly covering his whole body. It's discovered then, that the supposed cavemen are actually a very advanced telepathic race, and have mutated the crewman into one of their own, to better communicate and study the humans. (By the way, the crewman is very happy with the changes.)

The aliens, called Arivne, only need the scientists (Spock, McCoy and three others) for their experiments, so everyone else is sent back to the Enterprise. Then, they force them to relive traumatic moments of their past, in order to learn things like "decision-making" or "betrayal", which their species, living in perfect unity, doesn't know. There are interesting glimpses into Spock and McCoy's past, as part of these visions. Such as Spock being bullied by his human cousins as a child, or McCoy's divorce. It's finally revealed that the Arivne are doing all this to prepare against the attack of other, insectoid aliens, that will soon invade the whole galaxy (McCoy describes one as an "ugly son of a bitch"). The aliens, called Irapina, are sending first three champions to test the waters. If Spock, McCoy and Kirk (who's been returned to the planet to not miss the fight) can defeat the three Irapina, they'll withdraw to invade another, less interesting place (like the Romulan Empire).

This is where things become really, really weird. As the battles against the Irapina take place inside hallucinations, that can nonetheless kill the loser (a bit as in "Spectre of the Gun"). Come to think of it, something similar happened in "Spock Must Die". These early novels truly loved their hallucinations... We have McCoy battling the baby Irapina in a poker game, set in the Wild West. Which ends with McCoy decapitating the alien with a card. Yeah. Spock takes a math quiz on a sinking game board. Then Kirk fights in a naval battle against pirates, while Spock is busy inside a star, trying to make it go nova (Spock has practice with this, as earlier he had created a volcano by pushing to the surface from a planet's core).

Anyway, it's all gloriously crazy. Even though the ending seemed a bit rushed. There are also some seemingly abandoned plot threads. For example, the love triangle between a female scientist, another guy and a professor. I thought that these three characters would have more relevance later on, but eventually, nothing is done with them.

Spirk Meter: 7/10*. I was determined to give this novel a low rating, even a zero. After all, how slashy can it be if Kirk and Spock barely interact? It turns out, it can be fairly slashy... For starters, the most traumatic experience in Spock's past that the Arivne could find, was his battle against Kirk in Amok Time and the thought he had killed him (the whole sequence is taken from Blish novelization, which is a rather lazy way to fill pages, if you ask me). Relieving the scene makes Spock cry actual tears. Then, what is Spock's biggest worry while stranded on the planet? Being eaten by dinosaurs? Nah! The greatest danger for him is that Chapel would try to seduce him! Even though poor Chapel doesn't even interact with him in the whole novel, and has been nothing but professional. He goes as far as suggesting that McCoy seduces her, to get rid of Chapel himself (too bad for Spock, McCoy's gay too; more on this later). So far, this isn't much. But then, near the ending, it's Spock's love for Kirk that saves the whole galaxy once more. During the final confrontation, the Irapina cheat at the game and merge the two hallucinations: Kirk battling on the pirate ship, and Spock creating a supernova. If Spock succeeds at his test, the heat from the nova will kill Kirk. Of course, he chooses to fail his test and die himself, so Kirk has a chance. He does it out of "logic, morality, and a vestige of an emotion he might deny: love" (direct quote). The Irapina hadn't predicted such sacrifice in the name of love, so they declare the battle null, which gives Kirk and Spock another chance.

This is as far as Kirk and Spock are concerned. Now, what's the deal with McCoy? For starters, during his dream sequence, he wonders about the fact that he has never been truly interested in a woman, not even his wife. Later, Spock asks McCoy to explain sex and love to him, since he doesn't understand why Chapel is so interested in him. McCoy explains that women (and men) are attracted to power, which Spock has; intellect, which Spock has in spades; fairness, which is congenital for Spock (these are his words); and of course, that mysterious aura of strangeness, that is so very Spock's... And yeah, it doesn't seem AT ALL that McCoy has reflected a lot about Spock's appeal... After this, Spock asks him to seduce Chapel himself. McCoy refuses as he doesn't see Chapel that way. Spock assures him that he won't ask him to do anything against his nature, to which McCoy becomes very defensive. There's a long passage then, where McCoy ponders about his reasons to prefer the other female scientist in the party (all very un-romantic, practical reasons) over Chapel. As well as the fact that, despite being familiar with the female body because of his work as a doctor, he kind of fails when it comes to women. Something that he can't confess to Spock, but has confided to Chapel; the reason why he can't see her as a lover, and why Chapel can't be attracted to him either. What does Chapel know? It's also noteworthy, that this whole scene serves absolutely no purpose for the plot, since Chapel disappears from the story quite early and nothing happens between her and Spock. Last but not least, during the re-enactment of McCoy's divorce, we learn that a major reason for his wife abandoning him is that she was sexually frustrated. And neither of them were happy in their marriage. McCoy doesn't take it so bad, joining Starfleet right afterwards... So yeah, in my opinion, there's something about all this that screams "closeted homosexual".

*A 10 in this scale is the most obvious spirk moments in TOS. Think of the back massage, "You make me believe in miracles", or "Amok Time" for example.

#star trek tos #star trek novels #novel review #spirk #k/s #spones

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insaneoldme · 3 years

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Can you rec buddie fics? Pretty please?

OMG it's my time to shine, bitches!!!

Sorry if I went a little nuts, but this fandom has some of the best writers I've ever seen. I have 186 Buddie fics bookmarked in my AO3,

I'll link here if you are interested in taking a look cause if I put them all here it would be too long. Also, I tried to show here some fics I very rarely see recced, and a little bit o the classics. This fandom has some very underrated authors, everyone in my bookmarks is worth taking a look really.

Please take a look at the warnings before reading, enjoy!!!

I Hate Accidents (Except When We Went From Friends to This) by morganofthefairies (Rated E )

Buck and Eddie had always been unconventional. Neither of them gave it much thought – they were just them. Buck and Eddie - partners, best friends, co-parents – just as entangled in each other’s lives as any actual couple in the 118.

Or, the story of how Buck and Eddie went about their relationship in entirely the wrong order.

My Heart's Been Borrowed by ElvenSorceress (Rated E)

aka the one where Taylor gives Buck his ultimate fantasy and uncovers far more than either of them expected, forcing him to confront his long held feelings for Eddie

Half Awake in Our Fake Empire by HMSLusitania (Rated E)

Buck 1.0 fathered a child and Buck 4.0 comes into custody.

Love and Bullets Both Shatter Hearts (But Only One Can Put You Back Together) (Rated E)

Agent [Redacted] Diaz is the best at what he does. Usually. But lately there's this real pain in the ass* who's been ruining his missions: Code Name "Buck."

Keep It On by R_E_R6 (Rated E)

When Eddie walks in on Buck, bent over in nothing but a hoodie, their plans for the night immediately change. Buck's outfit though? Well, Eddie requests that it stays the same...for reasons.

Heart of Flowers / Heart of Gold by ElvenSorceress (Rated T)

Buck nearly loses everything and Eddie has to follow his heart

hungry for your love by evcndiaz (Rated G)

prompt: "who’s gonna write a fanfic where chris is not cooperating with buck and eddie accidentally says “listen to your dad”?"

or; breadsticks are a metaphor for love and boning

keep your eyes on the road by iriswests (Rated M)

A glimpse into buck and eddie’s developing relationship, told through ten moments stopped at a traffic light

when things fall into place by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Eddie asks Buck to move in with them during lockdown to help look after Christopher, which leads to certain unresolved feelings being resolved.

Carbon Date Me, Excavate Me by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

Evan "Buck" Buckley has made a name for himself as the independent bad boy of archaeology. At least, until Professor Eddie Diaz shows up with his fedora and good looks and starts beating Buck to the punch more often than not.

Buck hates his stupid six-pack covered guts.

Except for how... he might not.

Objects in the Mirror by SevenSoulmates (Rated E)

The voice had always been around, Eddie remembers it, like a stream of consciousness that babbled incoherently to the point where Eddie just tuned it out.

But then the voice started speaking directly to him. Conversing like he was a whole person standing right in front of him. Like he could see what was happening around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head. No one was talking to him, and Eddie most certainly was not talking back.

He wouldn’t talk to the boy in his head ever again. There was no boy in his head.

ripples all the way down by iriswests (Rated M)

christopher partakes in some parent trapping

dream of some epiphany by extasiswings (Rated M)

Evan Buckley is lost.

It’s happenstance that he wanders into the navy recruiting center—he’s been in San Diego for a few weeks, bartending late nights and weekends, living in a house with three other guys not because he needs the roommates but because he doesn’t want to be alone, and the military is…respectable. Stable. So Buck thinks maybe and opens the door.

Buck leaves ten minutes later with a set of printed instructions for sending his first letter, assured that he can drop it off whenever he’s ready, and a name.

Staff Sergeant Edmundo “Eddie” Diaz.

Relationship Advice from Complete Strangers Online by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Hi, I’ve never made a Reddit post before and I’m not 100% sure what I’m doing but I need advice and can’t ask anyone in my real life. So, I [30M] have this best friend [34M]…

Leading with the Left by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck said he was a "bartender" in "South America" what he actually meant was "stripper" in "Mexico."

And when Eddie said, "What's your problem?" what he actually meant was, "Is this about the time you gave me a lap dance?"

In other words, there's a few things the 118 doesn't know about Buck. Or Eddie. Or Buck and Eddie's relationship.

fireflies where my caution should be by littlesnowpea (Rated M)

“You never talk about your parents,” Eddie says, which is not even remotely what Buck expects Eddie to say. He frowns, tilts his head, but it isn’t a question, as evidenced by Eddie charging on. “I never asked because I figured it was your business, but the look on your face any time they’re brought up tells me you don’t get along.”

Buck swallows hard, against a lump in his throat. His parents? Eddie’s right, he never talks about them, for good reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, not sure what he’s even going to say.

Eddie takes it as the answer Buck is trying to make it out to be. He squeezes Buck’s wrist again, takes a deep breath, like he’s on a call with someone who’s panicking. Buck finds his breathing slowing to match Eddie’s, and Eddie nods as Buck gets it under control.

“There are people on the porch,” Eddie says, voice even. “Saying they want to meet their grandchild.”

Asked, Offered, Given, (He's) Taken by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

People like to flirt with Buck on calls. It kind of makes Buck uncomfortable.

And that makes Eddie frustrated.

I Hit the Accelerator (But the Car was in Reverse) by extasiswings, letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Rated E)

When Buck is forced to confront the truth about his breakup with Abby, having casual sex with his hot new coworker seems like the best rebound idea.

Unfortunately, that hot new coworker turns into his best friend. But best friends can keep having sex with each other, right?

There's no way this could possibly go wrong.

Memorable by JessicaMDawn (Rated T)

Six times Buck got recognized by people he saved during the tsunami, and how his team realized he was a hero.

All Bets are Off by NobodyKnows_U (Not Rated)

Or, the five times the firefam realized Buck and Eddie were in love, and the one-time Eddie finally did something about it.

fire on fire by extasiswings (Rated T)

Or: Buck and Eddie get in the habit of sharing a bed while living together during quarantine. It's platonic until it isn't.

Better Together by Randomfandombloggs09 (Not Rated)

5 times Eddie sees Buck wearing his last name and 1 time its not just his

Daddy and Pops by EdithBlake (Rated M)

When Christopher calls Buck 'Pops' things get a bit confusing. Buck and Eddie have a talk with Christopher that ends up with both of them being even more confused by how right it sounds.

the meaning of the words you see by florenceandthemachine (Rated E)

unknown sender: Hi!

unknown sender: Just wanted to say thanks for letting me buy you a drink, and for your number. Sorry I had to run.

unknown sender: I’m Eddie by the way.

sent: hey um

sent: i don’t want 2 be this guy but

sent: i think u mayb put the wrong # in ur phone

the dream you wish will come true by woodchoc_magnum (Rated M)

In which Christopher Diaz cannot understand why his father would want to date his former teacher when Evan Buckley is right there.

vienna waits for you by mottainai (Not Rated)

Eddie doesn't deserve a soulmate.

Work Husband by hideeho (Rated T)

“What...what have you done with Buck?” Eddie is going to kill him for messing with his phone. No, that’s too extreme. He’s going to maim him. Just a little.

“Check under H,” Chim offers helpfully, shooting a look over to Hen with a smirk.

Why the hell would he be under—

Then he sees it.

Husband.

Bad Neighbors by firstdegreefangirl (Rated E)

Eddie's new neighbors are keeping him up all night. He calls on his best friend for a little taste of their own medicine.

Cross the Line by Sirencalls (Rated E)

Eddie laughs, short and quiet and almost to himself. “No. If you want to learn, then I’m gonna be the one to teach you.”

Buck is pretty sure his brain stops working. “What? Why?”

Eddie turns to look at him and steps closer, their chests only a few inches apart. “Because there are people out there who will take advantage of how naïve you are. They’ll hurt you, and I won’t.” Eddie’s eyes are so intense that Buck doesn’t have any choice but to believe him. “If you want someone to do this for you, to—to dominate you, it has to be me. I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.”

pretty in pink by dykeevans (Rated E)

Buck forgets that he and Eddie made plans to hang out until Eddie shows up and Buck's in the middle of laundry day.

His laundry day outfit consists of a small pink crop top and grey sweatpants.

Eddie loses his damn mind. Me too, though, me too.

the distance to the stars by cloudydaisies (Rated G)

“Didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Buck just laughs. Like, honest to god giggles. Eddie is stuck fighting off doubly massive waves of butterflies and confusion, all while Buck just gazes down at him.

“That’s cute,” he hears Buck mumble, just before climbing into the truck, calling Eddie after him.

-or, everyone knows eddie is dating buck except for eddie, literally.

Something Old, Something New by dumbhuman (Rated E)

“Damn, I love weddings!” Buck’s face lit up as he closed the door.

If asked later, Eddie wouldn’t have been able to explain what came over him in that moment to make him ask the question. Or, at least, he wouldn’t have wanted to explain. The exhaustion was an easy excuse, but he knew deep down that it wasn’t a real one.

“Why don’t you come with me?”

one of the few things by thatnerdemryn (Rated G)

five times that Eddie tells someone else that Buck is Christopher's legal guardian plus one time he finally tells Buck.

I Didn't Know I Was Lonely 'Til I Saw Your Face by HMSLusitania (Rated T)

Total strangers Buck and Eddie go to couple's therapy together to get out of the therapy requirements their captains have placed on them.

things we shouldn't do by Ingu (Rated T)

“Why is everybody taking my relationship status so personally? Can’t I be fine with being single?” Buck said.

“Hey, you don’t have to say yes, be sad and alone if that’s what you want,” Josh replied. “But, I’m just saying. I’ve seen photos and this guy is volcanic levels of hot. Also, single dad, super cute kid. Saves lives for a living like you. I think you should give it a go.”

(the one where Buck and Eddie accidentally get set up on a blind date with each other, and everything snowballs from there)

Keeping It In The Family by Wolves_of_Innistrad (Rated T)

A young man shows up at the firehouse looking for Buck. Turns out Javier was a Bartender with Buck in Mexico. He’s back in LA, looking to reconnect and very flirty. Cue Eddie realizing Buck is not as straight as he thought.

kiss me (like your ex is in the room) by rebeccaofsbfarm (Rated E)

Eddie Diaz gets drunk and protective and signs up for a fake double date to get back at his friend's ex.

Leave the Light On (I'll Be Coming Home) by HMSLusitania (Rated M)

An accident on a call leaves Buck with custody of Chris after Eddie is… missing presumed.

While they navigate their new family circumstances -- and fight to stay together, despite Eddie's parents' best efforts -- a John Doe wakes up in a coma ward with no memory of his own life beyond the knowledge he has a son named Christopher and, somehow, he needs to get home

All my Buddie AO3 bookmarks

As I said this fandom has some very talented people, some of my favorite Authors's Tumblrs below, I recommend all the things they wrote and their blogs are very good.

@elvensorceress, @hmslusitania, @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels, @extasiswings

For gifs:

@arrenemris, @skylessnights (very lovely AU gifsets)

@from-nova(good gifs & content)

For Podfics: @mistmarauder everything she ever read is amazing, her podfics are high quality and she has a very lovely voice and her presence calms me down lol I recommend it

I'm sorry there are a lot more people but I'm kinda in a rush haha most of the people I follow are amazing, but the ones I mentioned here are enough to get you started or entertained for a while.

Buddie fics are amazing, this pairing has spoiled me so much, everyone I met because of it is nice and so active and talented.

Sorry mutuals if I forgot someone!

I hope I helped Anon, have fun!

(Tell me if any link is wrong please, thanks)

#buddie #buddie recs #recs #fic recs #911 on fox #911fox #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ao3

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carnationcreation · 4 years

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do you think that maybe you could do some soft luke content?🥺 i love your writing🥺❤️

TITLE: Pick me? (Luke Patterson x reader)

✌🏻Masterlist Taglist, Requests, and Works in progress!

Request: do you think that maybe you could do some soft luke content?🥺 i love your writing🥺❤️

(wattpad @pandabalena) could there be a prom where girls invite boys and y/n asks Luke to come with her but he refuses because is embarassed but Plot twist, when they both are at the prom, Luke sees her with another and decides to sing for her to fix things and boom kiss lol

Prompt/summary: Reader tries to ask Luke to homecoming!

Word Count: 984

Authors note: I changed it to homecoming so I hope that’s okay! And sorry this is kinda short I had to get to work lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the big day. My hands shook as I walked to the garage, the poster I had made this morning tucked under my arm. I had waited all week to do this, my anxiety was getting the best of me every time so I kept putting it off. Today was my chance though. The boys would be practicing in the garage today and I could get Luke's attention to ask him during their break. I let Reggie and Alex in on the plan beforehand, Alex tried to convince me to let him record with one of my cameras but I said no. Just in case I got embarrassed.

The boys finally put their instruments down and Reggie and Alex took up all the space on the couch to make sure Luke was standing in the center of the garage. "Come on guys give me some room to sit," Luke sighed. "Just wait!" Alex grinned. "Wait for what?" Luke asked, Alex then pointed behind him to where I stood at the door of the garage with my poster in front of me. Guitar picks were glued around the center which read, "Pick me for homecoming?" Luke's jaw dropped as I stood there with a nervous smile on my face. Alex and Reggie giggled, "Gonna say something Luke?" "I-" Luke started before clamping his mouth shut, swallowing hard, "I can't go with you. I don't want a date. I'm sorry." With that he ran past me and out the doors of the garage. I looked back at Alex and Reggie with tears streaming down my face. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Alex slung his arm around me as we walked out of the ice cream shop. To lift my spirits he took me there to get my favorite treat and let me cry a little on the walk there. "Let's just go together," Alex said, "While we're performing you can sit with Morgan at the table." "I rather not sit with Reggie's date," I sighed. "Just for a little while, once I'm done performing we can have a good time. Even ditch the dance afterwards. Come on it'll be so fun!" I sighed again and threw the wrapper for my ice cream cone away, "I guess." "Yay!" Alex cheered, pulling me into a hug, "You better show me your dress so I can make sure I match my tie perfectly!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The dance turned out to be pretty fun. Alex escorted me in, we danced and laughed through a few songs before he had to head backstage for their performance. I was so proud of the boys for getting to play the school dance, maybe now everyone will hear how good they are. "We're Sunset Curve! Tell your friends," Reggie announced and winked at the group of girls that had gathered near the stage. The band opened with their first song. "Hey," I turned and saw Dylan, the star basketball player, standing just behind my chair, "I uh- saw your date leave to go on stage. Do you wanna dance with me for a little bit?" I thought about it before smiling, "I'd love to." Dylan grabbed my hand and lead me to the dance floor. The band played a few covers as well as originals, finally as a slow song came up I finally looked up at the stage to see Luke staring at us with a different look on his face. Dylan placed his hands on my waist as we swayed to the music. "I thought you would've came with Patterson?" I looked at him confused. "Everyone knows he has a thing for you. I figured he would've asked." "Oh," I said, "No, he didn't want a date." Dylan shrugged and quickly changed the topic. As the song ended everyone clapped for the band, I looked at the stage trying to find Alex but saw the band had already left the stage. "Mind if I cut in?" Dylan and I both turned to see Luke with an outstretched hand towards me. Dylan smirked, "Of course." Luke pulled me close to him as Dylan walked off. My heart was hammering in my chest as I felt Luke's hand go to the small of my back. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "For what?" "For being so stupid." I looked at him confused. "I should've said yes to you." "I thought you didn't want a date?" Luke sighed, "I did want a date. I wanted you. I guess I just wanted to be the one that asked you." I smiled, "Well, at least we have the rest of the night." "Yeah," Luke smiled, pulling me even closer to him, "When I saw you dancing with him, I don't know I guess I just-" "Got jealous?" Luke laughed nervously, "Yeah." I smiled, "You have me to yourself now. So what are you going to do?" Luke smirked, "This." His lips crashed into mine and I couldn't help but smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*If you signed up for my taglist but don’t see your name please message me!

Taglist: @thebookwormlife @talksoprettyjjx @coolreallyfuzzystudentuniverse @igotabadfeelingabouteverything @larrystylinson-sus @lovesanimals @aunicornmademedoit @thexhotmess @ssprayberrythings @registerednursejackie @nicolewithasoul @homealone200 @hemmingsness @persephonequeenofthedead @bookfrog242

@peachyxdream @catieiscute2001 @julieandthephantomsblogduh @fangirling-allday @ashleyleblancx @alltimekp @wcnderwoo @unipanda1006 @disgustedchild @aberette13 @dpaccione @whyworry27 @number-0-iz @musicconversedance @owlgirl1209 @angelxfics @hamdehlesmis @marinettepotterandplagg @idkanymoremansstuff @spooky-season-bitch @starkeysgirl @chenellearose @voguesir @thegirlwholikestomanythings @mandiscadelinha @crybabyddl @jasm1nesdragons @daisiesforlacey @khiaraaa-in-spacee @harrys-bitch @bookdealer5 @blue21727 @echocharm17618 @sunsetcurve-h @peresphoncs @lolychu @joshy-obx @mochamiilk @starenemy @caitsymichelle13 @kiss-themoongoodbye @noncannonships @cherrybombboom @etherealexsistence @itskindyl @heidimortensen123 @ficticiouscreativity @lukeys-giggle @emotionalbruv @tenaciousperfectionunknown @delicatelukepatterson @dmcfarland1 @charliessunset @thegirlwhocriedwerewolf

#julie and the phantoms #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp imagine #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson x reader #jatp

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exquisitley-obsessed · 3 years

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Fiances, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 8

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault/abuse/rape + abusive families

A/N: I’ve added a tag list for those who wish to stay updated with this story! Just message me if you wish to be added <3

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Eight: Sisterly Love

Son of a bitch. Son of a fucking bitch. He had everything Lucien had ever wanted and then decided to fuck it all over. And for what? Because he was too much of a privileged idiot to care about anyone other than himself? Son. Of. A. Bitch.

Lucien’s knuckles were bleeding, but it was safe to say that the poor tree seemed to be faring worse. The Autumn male had walked into the woods until a healthy distance was between him and the manor (and all beautiful, flower-growing females within it) and then he had begun his search for the largest tree he could find. The trees in the human lands were nothing special, especially not compared to the endless auburn forests of Lucien’s home Court, but it wasn’t too long before found a red sequoia that had a thick enough trunk for his needs. It was a solitary tree which Lucien guessed was at an equidistance between the Manor and the home which he and Tamlin had bought for Nesta and Elain before going under the mountain. The home in which Elain had been stolen from. Another thing to be furious about.

After shedding his jacket and tying his hair back with a strip of leather, Lucien had begun to brutalise the tree. His hits were neat, and he moved with the trained precision of a courtly solider. He hadn’t learned to fight like the Illyrians, in cold camps, throwing punches as though they were a lifeline. Lucien had been trained to fight within duels which had rules and manners. It had been Eris who had taught him, the only one of his brothers who’d even bothered to speak to him, and that was mostly because their mother demanded it of her eldest.

When Lucien was little more than a kit, Eris had taken him into the endless forests of Autumn where they were hidden from the prying eyes of their father’s guards. It had been Eris who had given him his first sword, Eris who had taught him how fighting can happen via the mouth or palm. That to cut into someone with your words could be just as effective as the edge of a blade.

Eris had never lowered his guard, had never been kind, had never praised Lucien, but he had helped him when no one else would. Even if it were because he, like Lucien, couldn’t resist the pleas of their mother. The two of them were sensitive to her, particularly as Lucien had gotten older and this somehow catalysed their mother’s mind to unfurl like a ball of yarn. Eventually she’d been declared mute to the court. She wasn’t, of course, but their father didn’t want the courtier’s hearing of her nonsensical ramblings of wyverns and sunlight.

But even as Lucien hit the bark with enough force for it to splinter and fall to reveal the lighter spongey wood beneath, it was evident that he was not entirely an Autumn soldier. Going to Spring had meant there was also something beastly in the way he fought. The flames that licked up his forearms didn’t heed to ideas of conformity; those were wild and untamed. It made sense his fighting style was not truly Autumnal considering he had never honestly fitted in there. Well, he didn’t truly fit in anywhere. It was like he was not made of one Court, or one blood, but rather something messy and diverse.

Right. Left. He hit the tree with enough power to send shudders rippling through his bones. Right. Left. Above the beating of his fists he could hear his breathing, even and undisturbed, even after two hours of relenetless beating he had not yet broken into a sweat.

Unlike the Illyrians, for Lucien, fighting was about control. It was about taking something that was not disciplined and sharpening it into something dangerous. The Illyrians were brutal and raw, they fought with emotions, Lucien fought to bury his.

Right. Left. It had been some time now and Lucien could begin to feel the tree moan. He’d beaten through a large chunk of its mid-section so that it was now in danger of toppling. He needed to stop but, he couldn’t.

Right. Left. Just a little longer, he just needed to get his bottomless anger towards the boy under control, so, a little longer and then he’d turn back. His flames still begged for release despite their unleashing that morning. It had always been that way; his fire had been the one true thing to protect him from his older brothers. Even when he was a child, barely tall enough to meet his mother’s knee, he’d responded to his brother’s teasing with undisciplined spurts of light.

It had been a problem. He didn’t remember much of it, just that his unnaturally strong display of power had sent his mother into a nervous spiral. Eris had appeared, again, to deal with him.

Lucien had been trained by a strange man who he could only meet after the sun had gone down, and he had to meet him at the astronomy tower of the southern houses. The man was quiet and painfully old, especially for a fae. Old enough that there had been grey hairs in his mane of chocolatey hair. He’d wheezed his words as he taught Lucien to suppress elements of his powers, and Lucien had hated him mainly because he would dress in these strange white cloths that were bundled around his torso and legs, making him look like a babe.

That’s how Lucien had learnt to lock and compartmentalise his powers, which appeared to him now as circular panels. The outer most layer being the most trivial of tricks: heating up cold tea, warming the sheets on a chilly night, lighting lanterns with a wave of his hand. Below that were the displays of strength, such as the flames on his arms. Then there were the layers of the affronts: streams of fire, explosive sparks, even the fire runes he’d learned which he could mark on the floor so that when an enemy crossed them they would turn to ash. Down and down it went like the skin of a snake, the animal of his mother’s blood house. The inner most layer wasn’t a layer at all, but what he’d been taught was the heart of his power. When Lucien closed his eyes and focused, he could see it, glowing in his chest. A ball of pure, golden light that thrummed with raw power.

The lessons had ended abruptly, before Lucien was even tall enough to meet his mother’s shoulder. Just like that, the old male was gone, and Eris had appeared instead.

Lucien was weary. There was no reason for Eris to speak to him unless he’d done something wrong. That’s how it went for everyone, and Lucien could never understand what he did exactly to provoke them all. Sometimes it seemed reasonable, when he wandered too far from the grounds or was found reading forbidden books. Other times he didn’t understand why the beatings came, such as when his brother’s had pulverised him when he was on the forest trails looking for flowers, apparently males didn’t care for flowers, apparently his misdoing was worthy of a broken femur.

Lucien was on time, wasn’t he? He was always good with time, he could read the sun, moon and stars as though they were a second language. He’d come back to his room after dinner, dressed in his night clothes and laid in bed pretending to sleep whilst counting to 1000, then he rolled on his back and looked out his window and waited till the moon was hovering over the oak firs, then he would sneak out.

But he must have done something wrong, right? Because when Lucien had climbed the steps to the astronomy tower and entered the room in which Dracon was usually pre-seated and waiting with a soft smile, there had been Eris instead. He was standing behind Dracon’s empty chair and holding onto it’s back, looking bored as he glared at the telescopes.

“Dracon isn’t going to come here anymore. Your lessons are done.” Eris was a full grown male now, all of Lucien’s other brothers were close behind but there was something still unfinished about their scruffy hair and cruel eyes. Eris had the grace of a full grown fae male, and Lucien silently wished that he could be more like him, all elegance and cunning grace. Not the meaty bulk of Travis or Ruadiridh.

“Have I done something wrong?” Lucien couldn’t help but ask in a small, quiet voice. If he were to be beaten, he had developed a small routine to distract himself, to pull himself far away from his body so that he couldn’t really feel the hurt as it happened, only after did he feel the pain. Eris looked irritated by his question, and Lucien pushed himself against the tower door.

“Have you? Is there something you wish to tell me?” Eris’ eyes blazed as he looked at him. Lucien shook his head furiously. “Good.”

“W-where is Dracon?” Lucien stammered and hated himself for it. Stammering in front of his family was like offering a pork chop to a starved hound. He waited for Eris to pounce.

“Gone. He’s not coming back,” Eris said instead in a cold, emotionless voice. Lucien’s hands shook with disbelief at his luck.

“Gone? I-Is he okay?” Lucien was pushing his fortune. Never before had he tried to ask one of his brother’s so many consecutive questions, but something about the moonlight was making him reckless. That, and the tiredness of his brother’s stature. Eris was barely a grown male, and yet he seemed as old as father in his worry.

“No,” Eris said, and his face turned enigmatic as he looked down on his littlest of brothers. Eris seemed to assess him for a moment, taking in Lucien’s cropped auburn hair and browning skin. His face turned cruel, cold. His eyes turning into dark stones that gave away no emotion. Lucien steeled himself for his brother’s insult, but it still rattled him all the same.

“No, Lucien, he’s not coming back. He’s dead…and it’s all your fault.”

***

Right. Left. Right. Left.

Eris. Another thing to be angry about.

It had taken years of living with Tamlin for Lucien to begin to understand that the way his family had treated him was abnormal. That true brother’s taught each other strength and friendship, not how to practice mental mind games so that Lucien could escape his body whilst they cut him up and put him back together.

Right. Left. He’d been out for so long that he’d over run his time. He was supposed to meet her at 10.

Right. Left. The drumming of the blood in his ears was so loud that Lucien didn’t hear the slight ‘pop’ of a figure winnowing behind him. Nor did he turn quick enough after hearing the raw yet feminine battle cry.

“You bastard!” A small yet strong form collided into him, sending him back against the mutilated tree trunk. Lucien didn’t even fight back, not when the braided crown of pale brown hair told him all he needed to know.

“NESTA!” Lucien looked above the wildcats crown to see Feyre, dressed in simple black shirt and pants, reaching out for her wolf of a sister.

“You stole her! You ripped her away from us you-” The following language Lucien had not heard in a long time, and yet it was certainly not the first time an angry female had called him such names. Lucien just leaned back against the tree as Nesta’s small, yet sharp arm dug into his guts, and she pressed a blade to his throat.

Just for the hell of it he cocked his head and smirked, trying to look unbothered and arrogant – because doing so made him feel like he had some form of power, even though he was clearly at the Archeron sister’s mercy. God, this really shouldn’t happen as often as is it does.

“Nesta I have told you time and time again that Elain left of her own volition-” Lucien felt a pang of pity for his friend as she sighed and rubbed at her temples. Feyre was a new mother, and it seems that it’s not just Nyx that has needed babying the past few days.

“And I’ve told you that I don’t believe a word of it!” Nesta snarled. Lucien just glared down at the female before taking in her fitted Illyrian leathers, the new ropes of muscle that curved across her thin and sharp body, even the siphons on the back of her hands, glowing violet. Lucien snarled.

“Who the hell taught her how to wield a knife?” Nesta’s returning grin was nothing short of feral.

Nesta had always reminded Lucien of a blade, or something worse, something infinitely sharper and more dangerous. She held herself like a queen, one whose cruelness may have been on par with Eris’. She was taller than Feyre and Elain and was all sharp edges and bones. Feyre had been lither in her figure, after building muscle she appeared more cat-like in her grace. Elain…

Lucien couldn’t dwell on Elain’s figure for too long, or at least of what he imagined of it through her long skirts. All he knew is that she was shorter than her sisters, with a softer jawline and a bigger chest that was often bound and hidden from sight. Right now, Lucien really couldn’t be thinking about how he imagined her to have a hefty swell at her hips, or how her thighs might look spilling out from the top of stockings, or the…Lucien mentally slapped himself.

An erection right now would get him stabbed in the throat.

“Get off me,” Lucien growled, wrenching his hands up and pushing on Nesta’s shoulders. Despite Nesta clearly having been honed into a warrior, he still did not push hard, he could not find it within him to act aggressively towards a female, not even one with a knife to his throat.

Not after his mother.

“You will take us to her,” Nesta just growled, standing agonisingly straight and glaring at him with ice in her eyes. Lucien wasn’t convinced her powers had completely vanished, and a small shiver ran the length of his spine at being so directly under her focus.

“No, he will not,” Feyre just sighed, running a hand over her head.

“What are you doing here hellcat? I don’t remember inviting you,” as Lucien spoke he shot a glare at Feyre who just sighed for a third time.

“She figured out Elain was gone and has been tearing the Night Court down ever since. I thought if perhaps Nesta could come and see that there’s no danger then maybe my people might be saved of her wrath.”

“Poor Night Court,” Lucien cooed, brushing down his pale drawstring tunic and fitted brown pants.

“Have you two lost your minds?” Nesta just scowled, her fury now turning (thankfully) to her sister. “Elain is not safe in the mortal lands, are you forgetting how the humans treat the fae? What about the one human who may have a particular reason to not want to have her around.”

This is why he couldn’t despise Nesta. Despite all she had said and done. Because at the end of the day, Nesta had a fierce loyalty that Lucien not only admired, but could see within himself. Perhaps there would never be a day where they could consider one another as friends, but they both were bitter, both believed the worst of people and weren’t easy in trusting. But beyond the apparent mess of a relationship between them, they’d both go down fighting to protect Elain.

Not to mention they were the two first in line to shiv the Nolan boy.

Maybe that would be the thing to tie them together, planning a secret mission to infiltrate the Nolan manor and slit the boy’s throat whilst he slept. Nest might actually respect him for a night.

“I don’t know what the hells’ going on, but Elain is vulnerable and the only place she can be thoroughly protected is in the Night Court.” Nesta seethed, her glare feeling like steel.

“Elain’s vulnerable?” Lucien asked in a low voice. Feyre’s note, the one which Elain had arrived with had been incomprehensible with the rainwater. What if there had been a message informing him of Elain’s safety? What if Elain was in fact seeking asylum in the mortal lands. Lucien swore at himself internally. When it came to his mate there wasn’t much else he could do but protect her, and even that he seemed to fail at.

“She’s no more vulnerable than the rest of us,” Feyre shrugged with a roll of her eyes. “There’s some concern with the Cauldron reaching for Elain but she hasn’t had a vision in two years, and she knows to notify us if that changes.”

“But yeah besides the threat of Koschei there isn’t too much to worry about,” Nesta sneered, folding her arms protectively over herself. It was a tell of hers Lucien had picked up on. For a female who was full of steel and wit, her body language said that she was guarded and well…lonely.

Elain leaving must have hit Nesta hard, Lucien realised. He’d noticed how Nesta treated Elain, almost protecting her too much after the Cauldron, as though by taking enough care of Elain she could make up for what she failed to do for Feyre. Elain leaving randomly, in the night, without notifying Nesta, must have re-awoken that feeling. Nesta’s drive to protect, as though she wanted to protected her sister from the pain she’d been through.

That’s where Nesta was wrong, Lucien couldn’t help but think bitterly. Nesta had ultimately infantilised her sister, had refused to let her walk without holding her hand, how she had in some twisted way trapped Elain on a leash.

I care for you, I protect you, I provide for you. You must love me. Please love me.

When Elain had strayed too far on that leash, Nesta had recoiled, she’d gone of the edge. If Nesta couldn’t overprotect her sister, then she wouldn’t protect her at all.

Lucien ultimately felt sorry for the viper. Again, because he saw so much of himself in her. Lucien didn’t know how to love in small quantities, he had to devote himself fully, to everything.

Love or death. Lucien physically shuddered as the phrase stumbled through his mind. It was a stupid, stupid promise he had made when he was young and full of hope. A stupid, violent, costly promise.

“I promise you Elain is safe within my protection. I would give the whole speech about how we could make a bonding pact over my protection of her, but I know you know I’m being serious.” Lucien picked at his nails, still leaning against the tree and tucking his leg up. The image of boredom.

“And do you really think you’ll be enough to protect her?” Nesta seethed, whilst Feyre looked him up and down curiously.

“If you want to have a little wrestle in the mud Nesta, just say so. I’m sure you’ll find me more than capable of handling myself.”

“Oh I don’t doubt you’re capable of handling yourself, given it’s all you’ve got.” Nesta sneered, evidentially agitated by his taunts. That’s where Nesta needed training, Lucien couldn’t help but think, and for a moment he realised he sounded like Eris. Eris would take one look at Nesta and roll his eyes – “You wear your emotions like a fool. You’ll never be good enough to be a courtier. One look at you and everyone could tell what you want. It’ll be your greatest, most haunting weakness.”

“Rather scandalous, Nesta, I must say. You thinking about me handling myself? I thought you had a mate-” Nesta roared and charged for him. Feyre threw a casual shield between the two of them which the hellcat promptly bounced off. Lucien just focused on staying relaxed. When he was relaxed, he was in control.

“Children please!” Feyre barked, holding a palm up to both of them. Lucien just chuckled as Nesta seethed and Feyre sighed. “Surprisingly, we’re not just here to engage in pitiful threats and stupid insults, we did actually have a matter at hand to discuss.”

Fear coiled in Lucien’s gut. He’d almost forgotten. With the rhythmic almost meditative training and the distraction that was Nesta’s fury, he’d been blissfully unaware for a moment of why he’d called the remaining Archeron sisters to the mortal realm. Lucien stood straight, pulling on his jacket and tying his cuffs.

“You said it was urgent?” Feyre said softly after a moment, still maintaining the shield between himself and the hellcat.

“And private, if I recall,” Lucien flickered his eyes to the viper.

“I can send her home if you’d like.” Nesta went to complain but Lucien silenced her.

“It’s fine. In fact it…it might be better for you both to hear it…” He was getting nervous, he knew it. Turning into the male that he became whenever he went to the Night Court. But they were on his territory now. God, how ironic was that.

“Is it…is…are you okay?” Feyre looked alarmingly concerned, even Nesta’s anger seemed to have settled into a soft simmer.

“I’m fine,” Lucien said quickly. Too quickly.

“Elain…” Feyre trailed off. And Lucien sighed deeply.

Then he began. He told them both of how everything had been fine between himself and Elain (promptly skipping over their minor capture in an Ashwood trap) and there had been no problem till last night where, after talking about Graysen and his new engagement – Feyre gagged, Nesta swore – Elain had dreamt of a memory and had unwittingly sent that memory to Lucien.

“So…what’s the problem?” Nesta probed, her anger now having well and truly given way to a steely determination. Feyre’s shield had even dropped.

“It’s the dream isn’t it – what was it?” Feyre asked. Lucien hesitated.

“I…I don’t know if I can say.”

“Oh no, nuh uh,” Nesta clipped, “You did not drag us across Prythian, tease us with something threatening our sister only to back out now.” Lucien sighed as he glared at Nesta because, well, she was right. He’d called them for a reason and that reason was he didn’t know what to do. The bond forced delicate information of Elain’s to be forced into his lap, but he didn’t yet see himself as someone with the clearance to deal with such things. But that didn’t mean they should just be ignored. Elain needed someone. She needed her sisters.

Right?

“The dream was a memory, and it was of her and Graysen, they were running through some woods. They were engaged and…and…” Lucien grimaced.

“What?” Feyre asked, her concerned High Lady voice coming out. Lucien just looked at her, at them both. What he was about to tell them, well, it was going to change things.

“The two of them were enjoying each other’s company and I did all that I could to not intrude-”

“What? You just stood there and watched as they, as they…” Nesta glared at him, disgust in her eyes. Fury coiled in Lucien’s gut.

“I assure you Nesta if there was a way for me to stop witnessing as my mate was lain, spread and taken by another man, I would’ve found a way out.” The words were cold, harsh, and both Feyre and Nesta recoiled slightly. They had mates. They understood.

Lucien took a deep breath and tried again.

“That wasn’t the problem. I would not have have called you if that was all,” he began, now finding he was unable to look them in the eye, “They weren’t…they didn’t actually do anything besides some mild fondling. At some point Graysen began to force himself on her, after she refused several times he got angry with her-”

A sharp intake of breath from one of the sisters made Lucien wince.

“It was then that he began to…manipulate and coerce Elain into giving ‘consent’” Lucien used his fingers to form brackets around the word. “Graysen wouldn’t stop until Elain agreed to meet him in a barn near a Eucalyptus-”

Another gasp had Lucien looking up. He regretted calling them immediately.

“Look, I don’t know how human judicial systems work and legislation differs between the Courts, but in the majority of the Courts’ eyes Graysen could justifiably be trialled for rape.”

Both sisters froze. Nesta turning to ice, her features somehow becoming more pointed and severe. Feyre looked…emotional. Her hands were shaking as she brought them to her mouth.

“Rape?” Feyre eventually gasped.

“It…it does differ between courts. In Autumn, no, it wouldn’t count. Spring legislation hasn’t been updated in centuries given how underdeveloped the Court has been with its weak bloodline, so it’s a no there too.” Lucien knew laws of Spring. He’d researched them endlessly after Calanmai. “I used to assume the Night Court was the same but, given Rhysand’s stance on sexual assault survivors I’d believe that yes, Graysen could be charged. All other Courts, Summer, Winter, Dawn and Day could all put him on trial. The exact charge is generally defined as forced or non-consensual sexual contact. It was coercion, and therefore not consent.”

Lucien had felt lifeless as he spoke. He had to. He had to take all his emotions and bury them in the deepest recesses of his mind. If stopped to think even for a moment about the fact Graysen could be charged for raping Elain, the air started to leave his body and he felt as though he’d start to have a panic attack. He hadn’t had one of those since before he met Jes.

“I don’t know if she…if she…”

“She did,” Nesta said in a cold, unfeeling voice. Her eyes were glazed and far away.

“She came back in the morning, and I found her in the gardens, she wasn’t wearing shoes and her dress was buttoned wrong and she was just wandering. I…” Nesta’s voice broke and she cleared her throat, still not looking at anyone. “I took her in for a bath and she was fine, after that. It was like it took her a moment to be convinced that she had enjoyed it. After that, she was glowing and happy. Graysen always seemed to make her so happy…”

Lucien cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I…I brought this information to you because I didn’t know what the human standards are for any of this. I don’t know how the humans would prosecute-”

“They wouldn’t,” Feyre said solemnly, a hand still covering her mouth, “Human judiciaries don’t really do…rape…the only time people are trialled and convicted is when it’s wealthy women of a certain bloodline who were clearly raped in a brutal way with a direct witness.”

Fury once more coiled through Lucien’s gut. Elain had been taught to expect this. She’d been taught that Graysen touching her like that, talking to her like that – she’d been taught that that was love.

“I see,” Lucien grappled with the beast within, “I…the bond between Elain and I has shown me this, but I feel it is not yet my place to-to-”

“We understand Lucien,” Feyre stepped forward taking his hand, and Lucien found himself leaning into the touch. As pitiful as it was, he needed Feyre to take over, to take this information off his hands for the time being. He just couldn’t – he didn’t know how – it wasn’t his place and yet –

“She’s our sister and we’ll find a way to deal with this, to broach the subject with her and find how she feels.” It was as though Lucien could see Feyre switch from concerned sister to High Lady of the Night Court, Feyre the Cursebreaker. Lucien could only nod at her solemnly.

“Lucien,” Nesta started and as he looked at her, he could practically see the internal war raging on inside those icy eyes. He just waited until she found the words. “Thank you…” She spoke at last. Lucien nodded, and that was that.

Nesta went to speak to her sister when she paused and looked down at the siphons on the back of each hand, glowing a violent shade of purple.

“I-shit…I was supposed to be back in time for training.”

“Go,” Feyre said, still holding Lucien’s hand, “We’ll talk later.”

Feyre and Nesta seemed to share a certain sisterly stare with one another, almost as though they were conversing without speaking. Eventually Nesta nodded, and with one more steely yet grateful look at Lucien, she winnowed away.

Feyre turned to Lucien.

“Thank you, Lucien, for telling us about this. I know you’re trying your hardest given the circumstance.”

Lucien nodded. Yes, the circumstance being that despite him and his mate having not truly accepted the bond, nor having truly struck up any kind of relationship, the bond has deemed it appropriate to reveal to him incredibly intimate and difficult scenarios of Elain’s life without her knowledge nor consent.

“Thanks,” was all he could mutter, though he truly felt he did not deserve her praise. A small silence settled over the two of them and when Lucien looked up again, Feyre was giving him a peculiar stare. She seemed almost…amused.

“What you were doing with Nesta, teasing her like that-”

“Sorry,” Lucien interrupted, “I understand I may have overstepped my bounds I-”

“No,” it was Feyre’s turn to interrupt, “No, that’s not it. I just meant to say that well, for a second there you seemed like the old you.”

Lucien cocked his head.

“The old me?”

“You know, the git who was horrible and snide to me for weeks on end even though he was High Fae, and I was an enslaved mortal,” Feyre was grinning as she spoke, her hands resting on her hips in a very motherly manner.

“Oh,” Lucien nodded, “That old me.”

“Is it her or being here?” Feyre asked outright and something in Lucien’s chest stumbled before he sighed, deep and long. Now that Nesta was gone, he could relax with Feyre. She was like Vassa or Jurian – as close as a friend as he had.

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, “She’s…I mean she’s…”

“Mhm,” Feyre grinned knowingly.

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes. Feyre burst out laughing, and when her laughter had rung out into the forest a slightly awkward silence stilted the conversation.

“It’s not…” Lucien grimaced, “It’s not perfect though. I felt her through the bond when she found out Graysen had gotten engaged. It wasn’t…she…”

Feyre shrugged as though this meant nothing.

“I suppose she’s entitled to respond a little poorly. But I understand what you mean. You have it difficult Lucien, don’t doubt that for a second. Most mates get a chance to fall in love before the bond even makes itself known.” Lucien frowned.

“No, it doesn’t. It’s common for mates to feel the bond upon first seeing one another-”

“Yeah, yeah, when I said most mates I was talking about myself and Nesta, you know, the only two examples of a mating bond that Elain knows?”

“Oh,” Lucien nodded.

“You know how it is for us, we used to be human. When you’re human falling in love isn’t something that has anything to do with fate and attitudes towards casual sex are, you know, only positive when you’re a man which – not important – what I’m trying to say is that for Elain, Graysen was a big deal. Falling in love was a big deal. Having someone choose to love her with their own Mother-gifted violation, was a big deal.”

“I know,” Lucien said softly, “I’m not trying to take that away from her. I just…as much as Elain had certain customs growing up, so did I. It’s not exactly usual for two mates to ignore a bond for two years. Rejecting? Yes. Ignoring…not so much.”

Feyre, to Lucien’s surprise, nodded.

“Like I said,” she began, “You two have it tough. I don’t think either of you are necessarily at fault. Elain hasn’t just been ignoring you these past two years, she’s been healing, finding herself. You’ve been incredibly patient but at the same time, you’re allowed to be upset at the way things have gone.”

“Right but-”

“Lucien, I love you, but everything you’re saying right now is exactly what you need to be saying to Elain,” Feyre half-laughed as she squeezed his hand.

“Right, right…” Lucien nodded, and Feyre finally let go of his hand. Though, the loss of her touch didn’t take away any of the weight of his discovery, that still hung over him like a black cloud. Feyre moved back a few paces before giving a quick shake of her body as two giant leathery wings protruded from her back.

“Rhysand says I need to keep using them,” she smiled at him, “Though I think once I get past Spring I might just cheat. Don’t tell him though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lucien laughed, holding up his hands.

Lucien watched as Feyre prepped herself for take-off, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

“Feyre wait!” He called, just before she took off.

“Yeah?” Lucien paused ever so slightly.

“I did the right thing, telling you, about what I saw?” Feyre cocked her head and seemed to genuinely consider his question.

“I don’t know,” Feyre answered honestly, and something inside Lucien shuddered. “These kinds of things are sensitive, and each individual reacts differently. I would bet that Elain doesn’t understand that what Graysen did was wrong, she certainly wouldn’t consider it as rape as in her eyes she technically said ‘yes’”

“But-” Lucien growled.

“Yeah, I know, don’t worry. It is rape. I know. But in her eyes she gave herself willingly and…” Feyre’s eyes became dazed, “Just think about what this will be like for her, to find out the one person she loved most in the whole world didn’t just turn into a bad guy when she turned fae but was a bad guy all along. Imagine finding out your first love had raped you and you’d never even realised.”

Lucien shuddered and for a terrifying moment, he wondered if he might cry. With Ianthe he’d known. Every step of the way he’d known, and he genuinely didn’t know if it was better or worse to be ignorant. If he could be oblivious to what had happened in that cave, would he choose to be?

Elain’s choice had somehow fallen into his lap and in some way, this meant she had no choice at all. To tell her nothing would be making a choice, as would be telling her what Graysen had done. It wasn’t fair, for either of them.

“You better get going,” Lucien said after a moment with a quick glance to the sun placement, “Rhysand might think I’ve kidnapped you again.”

Feyre tipped her head back and let out a joyous laugh that filled the forest with magic.

“Oh Lucien,” she clutched her ribs, “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, and…” she suddenly looked nervous.

“What?”

“Promise me you and I will still be friends, no matter what happens with Elain, promise me you’ll stay.”

Feyre was looking at him with so much shy hope that Lucien couldn’t help but nod without even considering her question. Without another word Feyre took off into the skies, steering away from Lockhart Manor as to not accidentally cross Elain’s line of vision.

Lucien watched her go with a heavy heart.

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crazy4myself · 4 years

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No Harm List Pt.2

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Violence or threats of violence, explicit language, charicter death, implications of murder, mentions of blood, mentions of nudity, blow job jokes,

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy’s life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

a/n: sorry for the tragic backstory I didn’t mean for Hobi to get that dark, but whoop here we aree

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To both your relife and dismay, your life immediately returned to normal after receiving the shoes. While you were a bit wearier about walking home from work, you found no reason to hang on to the adventures of that night or the three charming men you encountered, so you told yourself to forget about it and put it behind you. And you did.

Until a few days later, when you met your best friend Hoseok for lunch.

"What the hell happened to your face" he demanded in the way of greeting.

You sighed, knowing you were going to have to tell him sooner or later, but in defense of your face, it was only peppered with a few scratches and a small yellowing bruise from when you fell. It was otherwise fine.

"You should have seen the other guy," you teased as you set your backpack down in the spare seat. Hoseok already ordered your usual for you like the angel he was, and you immediately shoved a bite of the sandwich in your mouth.

"No," he snapped, swiping the plate from you, "explain first, eat second."

"Hobi, please, I've been in class all day I'm starving," You whined in protest, reaching for your plate, but he set his lip in a firm pout, his dimples framing his upper lip and you lost the battle before it began. With a sigh, you caved, giving him a thorough retelling of the night with all the details you dare give him without, in turn, giving him a heart attack.

"He called you Cinderella and bought you new shoes," he asked with a smile brighter than the sun stretching across his face.

You groaned, "Please don't romanticize this. I'm never going to see him again, and can we mourn the fact that I have to find a new dealer. Mid Terms are around the corner, and Organic Chem is kicking my ass."

"I'm not mourning any of your bad habits."

"Oh my gosh, you're the one who told me about it," you defended in disbelief.

"At the time, I didn't think your ass was dumb enough to go for it. I had a high opinion of you back then," he huffed before handing you back your plate.

Your argument died on your lips as you stuffed your lunch in your mouth and ravaged it. Hobi watched you eat an expression of disgust and mild fascination on his face as you near deep throated a 6-inch sub.

"Stop acting like a hoe in Subway. I think the cashier is about to pop a boner," he chastised.

You looked up to see the man was, in fact, staring at you as you ate. You shot him a flirtatious wink as spinach fell out your mouth. "Let him."

"Why do I hang out with you?"

"Because I make a great company and have hot friends," you responded cooly as you licked your fingers clean.

Both were very true, but not the reason for your friendship. You were roommates with Hoseok's little sister, your freshman year of college. She took you under her wing since you were an international student, and you met Hobi that way.

Your weekends were often filled with the smiles of the Jung siblings and mischief that always came with it. You and Dawon grew incredibly close, she even offered to let you stay with her and Hobi over the summer while you were still apartment hunting come the end of the spring term.

Dawon's friendship was that one in a lifetime bond you can only get from enduring college together. The two of you were going to watch each other grow into badass boss bitches after graduation, stand in each other's weddings, be the godmother to each other's children. It was a friendship written in the stars, so you were devastated when she passed before the spring semester even ended.

The authorities claimed that Dawon was shot in a robbery gone wrong. A loss of life over something as petty as a chunk of change in her wallet. The murder wasn't caught the night of the attack, and for a time, the lack of closure ripped you apart.

You didn't even know the first day after it happened. She was shot during finals week, you were nearly camped out in the library the whole week. When she stopped responding to your texts, you just assumed she was buckling down on studying like you were. You were so caught up in your own life that you didn't get worried enough to reach out to Hobi until 18 hours after her death.

You don't remember what happened after ending the phone call or what you did, you went into shock and next thing you knew you RA was letting Hoseok into your dorm room after she received the news.

What you didn’t know what that the call never ended.

Hoseok never hung up.

Hobi stayed on the phone with you the whole time, murmuring gentle reassurances, not knowing if you could hear him or not, but knowing he could only hear your shallow breaths. He stayed on the phone with you even as he arrived on campus and entered your dorm, asking for the person on duty to find someone to let him in.

He stayed on the phone with you as he explained to your RA what happened, and watched her shed tears over his sister and struggled to give her condolences. He didn't hang up until he was in your room and wrapping his arms around you. Gently removing the phone from your ear as you stood frozen in place, before he sat you on the carpet.

The dam of emotions had burst at his touch, the feeling of comfort confirming the reality that your best friend was gone. He rocked you like a child until you nearly exhausted yourself and stayed with you through that night.

You don't remember much about the days following. You were a ghost of yourself as you finished your last two finals and packed up your belongings along with Dawon's to move out of your dorm.

There was a small service you attended that was filled with mostly strangers. Which only reminded you that you were only in her life for 10 months, a small fraction of the time she blessed this world. It only took a week for her to become one of the most important people to you, but to everyone else that ever knew her, you were just her roommate.

You do remember that summer, though. Hoseok honored his sister's wish and allowed you to stay with him while you looked for a place to live. You were a comfort to each other. The first two weeks you spent most nights sitting out on his balcony and letting him tell stories of him to his sister. On occasion, you exchanged one of your own; each seemed to paint the picture and make it seem like she might have been there sitting with the two of you.

Then something changed in Hoseok, the authorities got a lead on the identity of the murderer, a member of the notorious gang the Razor Gulls. After that, Hobi started going out at night and not coming back until early in the morning. You didn't know what he was up to, you never asked.

You got worried when his boss reached out to you because he stopped going to work for a week, you covered for him and told him that Hobi needed some time off to mourn. After that, you started to insist you eat dinner together each night before he went out. You prepared a decent meal and sat at the table and talked about mundane things. He smiled for you, but you could see the light dimming in his eyes. You could see the mask he put on for his family and friends who came to mourn her weeks ago, who still called on the occasion to check in on him, start to crack.

You began to put off your apartment hunting to prolong your time with him simply so he wouldn't be alone. Simply, to make sure someone knew he came home safe each night. What you should have done for Dawon. The only thing you could do for her now.

You don't know what happened that night on June 13th, you never asked, but you had a good idea. It was a hot and humid night, like most summer nights in the port town, but this one was especially miserable.

You couldn't keep the sticky feeling of the sweat off your palms, no matter how many times you wiped them dry. You were sitting in the living room watching shitty TV, hoping maybe this would be one of the nights that Hobi would come home early when he stumbled through the front door. At first, you thought he was drunk, but as you got closer, as you saw the blood on his clothes, you knew it was something different.

You called his name repeatedly before you got any kind of response. When he looked up at you, his eyes were vacant. There was no joy, no smiles. It made your chest tight how he seemed to look past you. It stirred up memories of the night he came to the dorm to check on you.

"Hobi, wha-" you took a look at the blood on his clothing to make sure it wasn't his own before leading him to the bathroom. You started the shower for him and stripped him of his shirt and pants leaving him in his boxers with small but firm orders to get cleaned up. You put the soiled clothing in a full trash bag shuffling around the take out containers and to shift it closer to the middle of the bag before taking the trash out to the apartment complex's dumpster.

When you got back inside, you went to his room and grabbed some boxers, sweats, and the first t-shirt you could find before heading back in the bathroom.

Through the marbled glass door of the shower, you could see that he somewhat followed your directions. He was standing under the running water of the shower, still dazed. The drained water was still tinged a slight rust color from the filth on his hands.

With a sigh, you pushed back the door and crawled in the shower with him, your shirt immediately sticking to your back as it went under the jets stream. If Hoseok was aware of his company, he remained unphased as you soaped up a loofa and began scrubbing down his back and arms and squatting down to get his legs. This was not the first time seeing the man naked, you skinny-dipped with him in the hot springs outside of town more than a few times this past winter.

Still, you kept your eyes high as you turned him to get his chest and neck as well as gently rub at the flecks of blood dried on his cheek. The toned muscle of his body showed that dancing used to be more than just a hobby for him. And you admired the careful strength wrapped in his unblemished golden skin.

It wasn't until you lathered your hands with shampoo and reached your arms up to wash his hair that a broken sob escaped his chest.

"I know," you murmured to him as you massaged his scalp with your fingers, his entire body rocking with his tears. You didn't know, you didn't have a clue, but Hoseok felt himself clinging to confidence in your words. You weren't dismissing his cries you saw and felt each one.

He tilted his head back at your gentle guidance and focused on breathing as the warm water washed through his hair.

He nearly composed himself as you conditioned his hair, quickly only letting out soft whimpers by the time you turned off the water. You toweled the two of you off quickly, dressing him in his sweats before deciding you needed the shirt more than him and traded your soaked tee for his. It fell just above your knee, and you wore shorter things in the club, so you deemed it an appropriate nightgown for the night before leading Hoseok to his room where you joined him in bed.

The silence was only broken by small sniffles as he hugged you before you finally asked in the darkness, "Do you want to talk about it?"

His body shuttered with another sob as he let out a broken no in response. You didn't push after that; you only began stroking your fingers in his hair, pushing it back from his face, like he once said his mother used to.

"Do you want me to go?" you asked softly, he shook his head buried in your shoulder, and that was that. You stayed with him, letting him mourn and process and slowly reel himself back together again as he desperately tried to fill the void in his chest. You held him as his sobs became sniffles and slowly drifted into soft snores, and even when your own eyes drooped, you held him through the night.

The next morning you woke up alone in Hobi's empty bed to the smell of bacon. When you wandered out of the room, you saw him dressed and smiling as he placed a plate of food on the table.

"I thought we could eat breakfast before I head into work," he offered as an explanation pulling the juice out of the fridge.

You tried not to be too thrown by his sudden change in mood and instead basked in the glow of his smile, as you joined him for the quiet meal. You insisted on doing the dishes so he wouldn't be late, and he thanked you before hurrying out the door.

You turned on the TV as you scraped the grease from the pan and into the trash, hearing the morning news drone on until something caught your attention. The reporter went on explaining how Kim Martin, the robber responsible for Jung Dawon's murder, was found dead in an alley in the 7th ward last night.

---

"So when is your next day off?" Hoseok asked as he stole a kettle chip from your bag, pursing his lips at the salt and vinegar. It was his least favorite flavor, but the fucker insisted on eating your food.

"Umm today might be the only day for a while, I'm scheduled for like every day this week, why?"

"You didn't take off for a while to lie low?" he questioned in disbelief.

"No, why would I? They aren't after me or anything they're after Bambie," you said, choosing to stick with the code name you gave Jungkook.

If he wasn't going to reveal your identity to his friends, you wouldn't tell yours, besides you were fairly certain Hoseok was involved in some gang shit and you were not about to give him the motive to dig into anything deep. Especially when people were getting assaulted for it.

"Y/N, you don't know how guys like this work they hold grudges," he warned.

"Look, this was nearly 5 days ago, I technically did lie low. And besides, I'm trying to take off for Mid Terms next month, I need to be able to pay my rent to do so,"

His face fell immediately "Y/N, you know if you ever need help you could always-"

"Hobi, what is rule number one of living in Alcor?"

"Don't eat the chili fries at Dax's."

You gave him a knowing look, and he slumped in his chair with a sigh, "Don't borrow money from anyone."

"Exactly, those were the exact orders you gave me my first week of living here, and I intend to stick to it,"

"Yeah, but I would like to think I'm different, that you could trust me to not hold that against you,"

You turned away from the hurt in his eyes with a sigh, "Look, I'll be extra careful, and besides, I should be done with the night shifts by the end of the month if the scholarship for med school goes through," you said with a smile. At the reminder, Hoseok immediately lit up.

"We need to plan your graduation party."

"Hobi, I don't want a-"

"I was thinking I could maybe rent a private room at the new club in BP" he continued ignoring your protest.

You graduate undergrad in 56 days. Then the two weeks later, you immediately start summer classes for Medical School. Alcor University's medical program was intensive, and one of the best in the world. And while the tuition for your bachelors was covered entirely by scholarship, you were still scrambling to afford the cost of living in the city.

Medical School was a whole different story, you just got your acceptance letter for the fast-tracked program last month. This program took your four years of schooling before residency and shoved it in about two and a half years of non-stop classes, no summer or winter breaks the only school.

You can't imagine having to work while going through such intensive studies, so you have been applying for scholarships and grants non-stop since your acceptance. Hoping you can scramble enough money to meet your living needs, so you only have to work weekends at 929. You even debated on moving into an apartment with a few more roommates just to lower your rent a little more.

Hobi continued to lay out his plans for your graduation party, it started sounding like a 3-day event. Still, maybe you were in need of a little fun before you entered your academic hell.

---

Min Yoongi parked his bike on a side road, securing the helmet to its lock before making his way down one of the main streets in the 6th ward. After reviewing some of the footage on the few surveillance cameras in the area, he found that the two thugs who snuck up on Jungkook that night were members of the Black Tips, a gritty gang from the 6th ward itching to expand their territory.

It was likely the thugs just saw Jungkook and decided to act out on their own to help pull them up the ranks, but to be safe, Yoongi has Jin, their best spider after Taehyung, keeping an ear out to make sure it wasn't a direct order from their higher-ups.

The city of Alcor was the large and filthy port city that served as the capital of Kros, a small merchant nation that was ruled by capitalism. In Kros, the market was more powerful than any politics making the two interchangeable when it came to state affairs.

Alcor is formally split into 11 wards, but most would say the city is clearly divided in two, the East and the West. The scumball that is the West was made up of Wards 4-9. The 4th and 5th warehouse districts make for a slow gradient through the ghettos and underdeveloped, impoverished areas, until you reach the 9th ward. The Pleasure Ward. A place of gambling halls, raunchy street vendors, and brothels.

No single gang owns the massive tumor that is the 9th ward, but neighborhoods and territories could be claimed. While BTS's stronghold lay firmly in the 7th ward, they had a handful of investments in the 9th, the most prominent being The Bulletproof Casino, the largest and most successful gambling hall in the Westside.

Bulletproof had undergone three expansions since its opening seven years ago. And thanks to the smart guidance of the founder and the gang's leader RM, it has quickly put a handful of half-assed lesser halls out of business. One of them being the Golden Drop, the Black Tips old club. Things have been tense since they sold their business to a Mr.Kim Namjoon two years ago, only to find the businessman had turned around and immediately sold the plot of land to BTS. The poor bastards didn't have a clue that the whole transaction was done by RM the entire time. He's done well to keep up his alias in his upcoming years.

Suga wished that Jungkook would do the same.

It sure would keep him out of a hell of a lot more trouble, incidents like the other night wouldn't have happened if the runt knew how to keep his head down, but the younger generations were not fond of street names.

Only Taehyung, who went by V, kept his because RM required that dealers have them to make it harder to get busted by cops in case some doped up idiot ever gets caught. But Taehyung has nearly grown out of the name as he's proved himself to be much more than a dealer.

The boy was cut from the same cloth as his cousin Jin and proved himself to be an excellent spider. A position not too far from being a spy, a collector of secrets and information from any person around the city. Possibly an even better one as Jin continues to slowly become the public face of The Bulletproof Casino, dealing with investors and stockbrokers of higher society has made it harder for him to blend in with the lowlifes of the West Side. Taehyung, however, has found himself able to worm his way in and out of the upper and lower class seamlessly and always dug up the dirt BTS needed.

What sets RM apart from the other scum of the lower West was he had an eye for all the currencies in life and invested in each of them; coin, knowledge, talent, and secrets. It was the secrets he held on nearly every big name in the city that slowly made BTS untouchable. Helping them live to their claim of being bulletproof.

Maintaining the dignity of the gang was how they ensured they lived up to that claim. That was why Suga was here to track down the two punks that tried to take out one of their own.

A member of their inner circle no less. BTS's civilian network was massive, every employee at every business they owned or invested in was loyal to BTS either willingly or out of obligation.

RM was known for helping relieve people from their debts, give them a second chance at life and allow them to pay him back at a much reasonable pace than any collector would allow. And they could do it financially, through their labor, or their services. Taking small jobs offered by a darker clientele. Slipping poison in a cup, being a lockpick in a heist, cutting the breaks in someone's car. These risks helped clear a large portion of the debt they may owe.

BTS also had members, their Army, people who would take the tattoo on their arm knowing it acted as both a shield and a target, but it gave them a place and a family to belong to when they lacked either. Being an Army of BTS ensured you a job, shelter, and a full stomach all luxuries on the west side.

Finally, within the members was their inner circle, people with titles who sat at RM's round table, because the corny bastard actually had a round dining table for family dinner which was scheduled to take place once a week, but happened most nights organically because his brothers liked to stay together.

Suga has been part of the inner circle since BTS was born from a gang raid gone wrong. He and Namjoon were just two bastards who came out of the rubble fighting and built the empire they had now over the past 7 years. He served as Namjoon's second before there was even an option for a third.

And if the day ever comes when Namjoon is ready to step down and hand JK the reigns, a thought he entertains with Yoongi and Jin on quiet nights at the Den, Yoongi supposes he will serve as Jungkook’s second too. If the little brat would have him. He can't imagine himself walking away from the life he lives now.

He holds nothing against Jin and Namjoon for wanting to leave. Holds nothing against them for wanting to live a quiet life with their partner, where they don't have to put their life, or someone else's on the line. Yoongi just can't imagine himself doing the same. BTS has always been his purpose; he loves his brothers and the world he's built for himself. He even likes it on days he has to clean up after snotty-nosed bunny teethed brats.

Jon Waters was such a mundane name. Suga had to believe that the man covered himself in tattoo's to compensate for it. Especially as he entered the rundown pawnshop with bars on its windows and door to see how tacky they were in person.

"You got a lotta nerve comin' into my shop," Jon growled the moment the bell alerted him of Suga's presence.

"You have a lot of nerve coming after my kid in the middle of the night. Tell me did you cry when you got your ass handed to you by some college girl," he mocked

Jon's eyes narrowed as his hand reached under the cabinet for his gun, "I'll kill you."

"1421 Lilac Drive" was his Dull response. Jon's eyes widened in shock.

"That's your sister's address, right? I gotta say you did well when your mom ditched you guys, joining a gang to provide for her. Quite noble. Sending her off to university, she didn't graduate, though," he sent a taunting smile. "Who needs your masters when you can get your Mrs. I'm sure it was easy for her to marry rich with an ass like that."

"Watch it," he snapped.

"Oh, it's hard not to. But not for long I hear she is carrying, things tend to sag after having a baby." Suga mused lazily.

"What's your point, you think knowing who my sister is, is going to scare me?"

"It should. Especially since I have someone stationed outside her house right now, and if I don't walk out of here. Hell, if I come out with my hair a little ruffled, they have orders to shoot."

"You're fucking bluffing."

"Do you really want to test me?" Jon's lips became a thin line as he made a point to take the magazine out of his gun and set them both on the counter between them.

"Goodman," Suga taunted as he locked the door of the shop and flipped the sign to close. "Now let's talk,"

---

Your day was much less interesting after your lunch with Hobi, you had one more lab before you dragged yourself to the library to get some studying done.

You were returning to your mundane struggling college student mindset as you stepped onto the elevator to take you to the fifth floor, the quietest and therefore, your favorite floor, in the library.

You were so caught up in responding to a friend about going to see her art exhibit in a few weeks that you almost didn't notice someone standing in front of the elevator doors as it stopped on the third floor.

You glanced up mindlessly and locked eyes with a familiar set of brown, doe eyes.

Which was fitting since Jungkook very much looked like a deer caught in headlights. He stood in front of you, wearing all black, which led you to think that was his usual attire. His backpack was slung over one shoulder, and you noticed the hand that gripped it was bound in a black brace.

You were his mirror as you both gaped at each other, for an unreasonably long amount of time, not knowing what to do.

You opened your mouth to break the silence when the doors began to slide shut, seeming to break Jungkook from his trance as he backed away from the elevators and sped towards the stairs deciding he could use the cardio anyways.

Jungkook felt a myriad of confusing emotions as he descended the stairs to the library. But he knew he sure did feel stupid.

He felt stupid for trying to board an elevator with the up arrow lit up when he wanted to go down to the first floor. He figured his lazy ass would ride it up and back down a few minutes and save himself the effort.

He also felt stupid for walking away. Getting in the elevator with you would have been awkward, but now that he walked away, he probably made himself seem like a creep. You seemed a little suspicious of him the night you met, but now you were definitely going to think he was in some sketchy gang shit.

And of course, he was, but he didn't want you to know that.

Jungkook also felt stupid for being worried about what you might think of him. While he was now charged with making sure your life was never at risk in the 7th ward, he wasn't supposed to ever really see you or talk to you again.

On a campus of 15,000+ students, he was certain he has never seen you in his life, but of course, he sees you now. In the library of all places.

But most of all, Jungkook felt stupid for being excited to see you. To see that the bruise on your cheek had faded to a healthy yellow and that your leggings were tucked comfortably in the black boots, he got you.

Either you didn't have a lot of shoes, or you actually liked his gift. He smiled to himself at the second thought.

Jungkook's thoughts were filled with you as he made his way back to the Den. He wondered if he might happen upon seeing you on campus regularly, or if he blew his one time chance.

He would like to think that he would say hi next time he stumbled across you. He wondered if you were graduating soon and leaving town or if you would be in the city for a while longer. The part of Alcor you were in wasn't the nicest, but he liked the thought of you getting to move uptown some after you graduate and maybe seeing you in your favorite coffee shop.

You were kind and funny and didn't completely freak out at the fact that Jungkook was mugged, and that they tried to chase you and possibly kill you for helping him escape. He liked the thought of having a friend outside of BTS who didn't care about what he did like you might.

Jungkook was thinking about you even as his phone buzzed with a text from RM with orders for a family dinner tonight.

a/n: So this isn’t quite what I wanted to be, but I really wanted to get something out for you guys to read. I already started pt.3 and have BIG plans. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please comment and let me know if you want to see more. and what you liked, loved, or hated about it. I can only learn from feedback :)

-> pt. 3

630 notes · View notes

jooniyah · 5 years

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Star-Crossed

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader ; Yandere!au

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Yandere behavior, emotional abuse, extremely unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, manipulation, profanity, mentions of mental illness, blood, knives and murder.

Author’s note: This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

A special mention to thank @kpopyandere for writing stellar yandere fics, which inspired me to try my hand at yandere!au for the first time. Thanks, @junqkook for writing the enthralling ‘Every Breath You Take’, the quality of which I can never dream to surpass.

Okay, read and enjoy!

He flicked the light switch on and drawled, “I want you to go to the party with me.” Your eyes were sensitive at the sudden exposure to light. Your whole body felt suddenly warm after a long time. You didn’t know how long it had been since you were locked up here. The only thing that made sure you were alive in the place was his hauntingly ethereal face gleaming up on you from time to time. You blinked at him without saying a word. He was leaning against the doorframe, with his arms crossed. You knew you couldn’t possibly go out to a party, not with all those bruises covering your body. You shrugged your shoulders feebly and said, “I am covered in bruises.” He stepped in closer and leaned over to inspect you. “That’s not a problem. I’ll take care of it,” he said. He took the key out of his pocket. With a click, he uncuffed your hands tied behind you. Your shoulders were sore and you instinctively stretched your arms, almost hugging yourself in the process. “Really?” he asked as he bent down to stare at you. There was a dark gleam in his eyes. That same mischievous and ominous gleam. “You really should have thanked me and reached out to hug me first, you know,“ he said as he pressed his hand firmly on your aching shoulder, making you wince. “Even after four days in the darkroom, you still are a selfish ungrateful bitch,” He was pressing harder now and you opened your mouth in a silent scream.“ Make that mouth useful at least,” he said and looked at you menacingly. With trembling hands, you reached out to his face and held him closer. You made sure that there was a small gap between you so that he wouldn’t suspect your revulsion. Well, you have always been good at keeping secrets. His grip was still growing firm on your shoulder as you pulled him in towards you. Aligning your lips with his plush ones, you dove in for a kiss when he cruelly grabbed at your shoulder blade, making a stream of fresh tears fall between your lips, and stain the kiss with a saltiness that brought a devilish smile on his lips. Looping his hands under your arms, he pulled and brought you on your feet without breaking the kiss. You tried to stand, without your legs giving out after days of being handcuffed to the chair. Your legs had cramped so badly but he had refused to let you out, saying that you would stay that way until you learned your lesson. It wasn’t something new to you. Whenever he wanted to punish you, he always put you in this dark cold room in the mansion, which he liked to call his favorite darkroom for his favorite little princess, you. With wobbly legs, you followed him out of the room. You didn’t want to go back to being handcuffed again, so you decided to humor him if that meant even a little peace for you. “Thank you for letting me out, Joonie” you whispered. You wanted to say more but couldn’t, as the words of flattery in your mind made you feel disgusted. He seemed to like that and patted your head saying “ Now that’s more like it. I don’t understand why you think you need to hide how much you love me, Y/N. You pretend to dislike being with me, but I know that is not true. You are so cute when you pretend to rebel against me.” You exhaled slowly and struggled to keep your face from betraying your emotion. You were tired of his constant declarations that you loved him. Once out of the room, he dragged you to the bathroom. “Strip,” he said, letting go of you. “I’ve already bought you clothes. Wash yourself. I’d love to have you like this, but I can’t take you out and let others see how beautiful you look when you are ruined.” He stepped out of the room, letting you bathe.

He had already made sure you could never lock yourself inside a room. No door in the mansion could be locked from the inside. You sighed and got the hot water running in the tub. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw a pathetic woman staring back, covered in bruises and crusted blood. You winced as you examined where he had punched your jaw two days ago. You were still not sure how he could be so doting one minute and turn into a violent brute the next. You got into the tub and worked up a lather, flinching whenever it hurt to touch anywhere bruised. All your thoughts came crashing down on you. The real words and emotions threatened to find their way out into the world. You knew better as to what would happen if Namjoon were to find out. He would punish you for even thinking your own thoughts. Even a single slip on your side would send you straight to the devil’s world.

At last, you deemed yourself presentable enough and stepped out, to see Namjoon standing in your dressing room with a young woman. “This is Haewon. She’ll take care of your makeup,” he said, pulling you gently towards his side. You couldn’t tell if he was smiling genuinely at you or simply faking it for Haewon’s benefit. “Uh… She looks like she’s been…” she paused for a second, “did she have an accident?” You looked at Namjoon, who held onto you and tucked a section of hair behind your ear. “She used to harm herself. But I’ve been making sure she’s getting help. In fact, I’m taking her out for a little fun because she’s been cooped up inside for so long. Don’t worry about her, she’s fine,” he responded with a devoted smile aimed straight at your eyes. Haewon nodded and smiled at you with what was supposed to be sympathy. As she moved away, he bent down to whisper in your ear. “I don’t want to hear you speaking a word to her. Don’t try to do anything stupid, baby girl,” he said as he squeezed your forearm, right at the place where he knew you had a painful contusion. You gasped silently and nodded while he let go of you.

Haewon began working on your battered skin to the best of her ability. She was a nice girl with blue eyes, silky blonde hair and a petite frame. She tried asking you harmless questions about yourself, but you knew better than to talk to her. If Namjoon expressly said he didn’t want you speaking, he absolutely meant it. You just smiled weakly and shook your head, hoping she would think you were tired and leave you alone. Well, she might think you were an unfriendly bitch, but it’s better to please Namjoon and steer clear of his punishments than indulge a stranger, right? By the end of an hour, Haewon had transformed you into a radically different woman. All the bruises had been expertly concealed. Namjoon had picked a soft dress in a beautiful shade of peach. It flared out at the waist in a dreamy cascade of velvet. He had bought you a pretty pair of heels to go with it. You hated to admit that he had chosen them so well.

As you spun around, admiring yourself in the mirror, you caught sight of Namjoon standing in the doorway. He was dressed in an impeccable black suit and wore shoes that gleamed brighter than his coal-black eyes. You saw his image winking at you in the mirror and turned to face him. “You are going to be the death of me,” he murmured, as he drew you into his arms. How you wished that would be true! You simply squirmed in his arms, wishing he were dead already. Haewon was giggling when he turned to her and pressed a wad of cash in her hand. “Thanks for your work. You made her look stunning,” he said with a grin. She nodded happily and turned to you. You broke his embrace and shook hands with her to express your thanks. “You have a wonderful boyfriend. I’m so jealous right now,” she whispered into your ears with a giggle. It grated on your nerves to hear her say that. What did she know about this ‘wonderful boyfriend’? You were annoyed that she was so quick to judge him as a great guy, without any idea of what a monster he could be. But then, you were stupid yourself. You had fallen for him just as quickly as she had. So, in a way, you were annoyed at her that she reminded you of how naive you had been. You nodded with a tight smile and said, “I know.” You were sure he had heard the whispers and would be amused to make you repeat her words. He always had fun toying with your sanity.

After Haewon left the room, he snaked his arm around your waist and leaned into you. “ Tell me what she said,” he asked as he pressed you closer to his side. You gritted your teeth and ground out the words verbatim. You knew better than to leave out a single word. He chuckled and placed a kiss on the top of your head. “You seem to be such a good girl today. I thought you were going to try to act stupid and get punished for being a bad girl. But not today.” You thought you heard a faint disappointment in his voice. Usually, he loved it when you messed up. He always pounced on a chance to bend you over the nearest table and spank you till you cried. Or choke you till your eyes rolled back in your head, and you almost tasted death. You knew he was waiting for you to make the slightest slip up so he could have his way with you. But you were determined to last for at least a week before going back to the darkroom. Anything was better than the darkroom.

"Babe, I’m going to drop Haewon back at the intersection. You stay here and wait for me, alright?“ he told you as he walked out of the mansion with Haewon following behind him. He had slipped a sheet of paper into your hands before leaving. “Make sure you memorize everything in this,” he had said. You watched him walk away and lock the door behind him. After he had brought you to his mansion, he had changed all the the locks to electronic ones saying that you were too precious for him to lose. At that time, being the naive girl you were, you had thought it was true and had admired the way he loved you and your flaws. You didn’t even have an inkling at that time that a life with Namjoon would be like this. When you say it like that people would think you were lucky enough to be in his life, but you knew that every single day, you struggled to keep yourself alive, with death hanging like a knife above your head. He drove away to drop Haewon off, leaving you wondering if Haewon could even trace her way back to the mansion without his help. You decided to look at the sheet you were given, and you were dumbstruck on reading it. It contained a set of questions and answers you had to memorize. You felt stupid as you read what he had written down: expected questions that you might be asked at the party, and answers for them. His answers. He had changed everything, starting from your hometown to your maiden name. He had stripped away your individuality and replaced it with a nameless, faceless stranger. The one thing you had left after meeting him was taken away from you, it left you pensive, wondering what else could be taken away.

When he returned, he threw the door open and called out to you. You hastened to meet his arms in fear of being deemed too slow and punished. He beamed proudly as you surrendered yourself into his arms. “You look like a fairy tonight,” he murmured, “ It’s a good thing you were on your punishment for the last four days. Because you wouldn’t have fit into this dress so easily if it weren’t for the darkroom.” You felt a cold wave of sickness stab your gut when you realized he had deliberately bought a smaller dress just because he had fancied it and made you fit in it. “So, I hope you’ve been a good girl and remembered to study the character I’ve built for you?” he asked. You were foolish enough to open your mouth and ask him, “Why ….?”. You suddenly realized what you had done. He stopped in his tracks to turn. His eyes flashed a darker shade of black. With his menacing voice, he asked you, “Were you saying something, my little lamb?”. Your mind raced to think of ways to get you out of this situation. Even death would have looked the easiest way out. “I was wondering why we had to go this early to that party. Can we stay for a drink before we head out? I mean, I just wanted some alone time with you.” You faked a blush. You weren’t ready to be tortured today. You saw his face slowly stretch into a captivating smile, as the light from the chandelier fell on his face, illuminating his chiseled features. You found yourself tracing your fingers over his jawbone, earning a hot and hungry kiss in reward. It seemed to put him in a happy mood because he wore a dazzling smile which only kept getting brighter as the evening progressed.

The ride to that party was long. He was on his phone the entire time, giving you some time alone to look out the window. The city looked beautiful out there with all those colorful lights and yet here you were, sitting with the devil in a shade of grey, as if your time had stopped for a long time, wondering what went wrong and how you ended up like this. Finally, your train of thought was broken when the car came to a sudden halt. When you stepped out of the car and held onto his arms, he tossed his keys to the valet and patted your arm fondly. “I know you hate being seen or touched by other men, but I’m right here to protect you. You’ll be safe with me, I promise,” he said with intense eyes. You weren’t sure if it was meant to be a reassurance or a threat. This was the first time he was taking you out after he came ripping your life in shreds. You tightened your arm on his and said, “ I know, Joonie.” With a satisfied smile, he led you into the bright lights streaming from the hotel.

As you entered the banquet hall, you could sense a lot of people turning to look at you. Everyone seemed curious to know who Namjoon had on his arm. There were a lot of people who greeted Namjoon as he weaved his way towards a group of men clustered around a table. They looked at you with interest as he introduced you. You didn’t know if he would punish you later for shaking hands with them, and this got you wishing the night were over already. “So, Y/N”, said Taehyung, “ you’re the first one that the mighty Kim Namjoon has ever dated openly.” You sneaked a look at Namjoon as Taehyung continued, “Tell us what you think about him. We’re curious.” You chuckled smoothly and said,“ He’s a great guy. He’s a stickler for perfection, though. He means whatever he says”. You crossed your fingers hoping this didn’t land you in trouble later. You hadn’t gotten any pinches or painful grasps yet, so you figured everything was going well. The men had brought their girlfriends, who you shook hands with. Seokjin’s girlfriend Lee Eun Ji seemed genuinely friendly and interested in knowing you better. The men moved a bit farther, talking business as they sipped their drinks.

You were asked friendly questions, most of which Namjoon had anticipated and provided answers with. You managed to blush and evade the ones you weren’t sure of handling. “You know, we were so curious about who the whole party was for,” So Yeon, Jimin’s girlfriend said. “ Oh?”, you blinked, “who is it for?” you enquired curiously. “Why! you sure know Namjoon arranged this whole party to show off his new girlfriend,” giggled Eun Ji. “Of course, all the businessmen here pretend it’s to toast the successful closure of the financial quarter,” she added. You didn’t know if she was joking. You looked around the room filled with people, suddenly hyper-aware of all the pair of eyes sizing you up. “Don’t be nervous, everyone here except Namjoon’s friends work under him,” said So Yeon. “What do the rest of them do?”, you asked. You were then told that the men with Namjoon were the board of directors of the company that Namjoon owned. They had been friends from school, and they had founded the company together. The only fact you had known about Namjoon before coming here was that he was a maniac and a sadist. Yet, here were people telling you that he was a person who was funny, loved to make others laugh and had normal friends. Like they say, the Devil definitely wears Prada. You hadn’t understood what the phrase meant until Namjoon came into your life. He really was a good actor, skilled at masking his true personality. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, for pretending to be someone he was not. Or was he pretending? Did he know which of his personalities was true and which was the mask? Did you know enough about him to hazard a guess? You found out he had had previous failed relationships, but none of them had lasted long enough for him to bring to his best friends. You thought you knew the reason why. Because he was a monster. You also got to know that he had studied abroad and had excellent grades. ‘Of course,’ you thought, ‘the bastard has an amazingly sharp mind’. You were surprised that he had left you unattended for so long, without breathing down your neck. You wondered if this was a test to check how much he could trust you.

After you started chatting with the girls, you relaxed a little and sipped your drink, feeling a little dizzy. You scanned the room, and, without warning, a thought popped into your head. What if, maybe, just maybe you could escape from his clutches this night? You found your eyes staring at the wide main door of the hall. Instinctively you felt a hot gaze burning into your back. You turned and immediately caught sight of Namjoon, who was looking at you inscrutably. You felt your head start to pound and your pulse quickened on seeing him slowly raise his eyebrows. He didn’t break eye contact with you for a whole damn minute, making your insides churn. No, you were paranoid. He couldn’t read your mind and know what you had been considering just now. Or could he? Beads of sweat rolled down your back as the thudding in your head grew louder. His eye contact was broken by a drunk and haggard conglomerate who was attempting to make a conversation with him. You swung your eyes back to Yoongi’s girlfriend and attempted to calm yourself down. Your eyes never wandered to the door again, but your mind screamed to escape his talons. A few drinks later, you decided to try your luck one last time. Namjoon had confiscated every electronic device you owned, including your cell phone, when he had brought you to his mansion. Now, you decided to take advantage of one of the girls to hatch an escape plan. "Oh!”, you gasped a fake surprise, pretending to search the insides of your clutch purse. “ I guess I’ve left it in the car”, you faked a little facepalm. “What is it?” asked Eun Ji. You gave her a beseeching look. “I thought I had my phone with me, but it seems like I left it behind,” you said. “I just remembered that I need to make a call”. You had one microsecond to choose between asking for a phone and shutting up and riding back to hell with Namjoon. You decided to risk it and continued, “ How silly of me! I have to borrow a phone, I guess.” She promptly took the bait. “You can use my phone, don’t worry,” she beamed.“ You heaved a sigh of relief, saying ” Thanks, Eun Ji. I’ll wait for you at the women’s bathroom.“ You thought on your feet and decided to go first. You didn’t want him seeing you use a phone, nor did you want him to see you going with Eun Ji. You got up and felt giddy with nervousness. Trying to be as casual as you could, you made your way to the side doors.

Namjoon had been watching you all evening. He knew you would try to pull a stunt, and he was interested in what you would come up with. He had caught you staring at the exit, and he had seen your lips tremble when you made eye contact with him. He was amused to see you trying to hold yourself up, he felt like a puppeteer watching his puppet perform pitiably on its own. When he saw you tracing your finger over your glass thoughtfully, he wondered what was going through your pretty little head. He would let you try your tricks, but he wouldn’t mind breaking those pretty fingers if you put one toe out of his line. He thought he knew what would happen when he saw you make your way to the side door. Ladies bathroom. Convenient. He sighed. He thought you would come up with something more original and entertaining. As soon as he saw Eun Ji stand up, he ambled over to her, blocking her path smoothly.

You huffed in annoyance as you kept looking at the bathroom door. Women kept coming and leaving, but Eun Ji’s face never showed up. Was there any other bathroom suite? You hoped she hadn’t wandered off to some other bathroom. Time ticked on but there was no sign of the wretched woman. Now you started to panic. What if Namjoon noticed that you were gone for so long? You decided to suck it up and borrow a phone from one of the ladies in the bathroom. As you approached one woman, there was a warning bell going off in your head. Swallowing the ominous feeling in your throat, you asked her if you could use her phone. She looked at you incredulously, probably because you were her employer’s girlfriend and surely you would have a phone of your own? She handed it over and you ran to the nearest stall. With trembling fingers, you dialed your mom’s number. It was switched off. Your dad’s number was switched off too. With growing panic, you dialed the only other number you knew by heart: your best friend Seung Ho’s. Your heart lifted as you listened to the ringback tone. Finally, you heard "Hello?” You started hyperventilating as you sobbed into the phone,“ Seungah! It’s me, Y/N! Seungah, are mom and dad okay?” There was an audible gasp, followed by “Y/N? Oh my God! Are you alright? I’ve been worried sick about you! Where are you? Your dad and mom went missing too. I almost went crazy when I saw your house ransacked and found all of you missing. I’ve lodged a police complaint. Tell me where you are. Let me come and fetch you.” You started hiccuping as you told him how you were abducted by a man and imprisoned in his mansion. You were not sure whether you should tell him your abductor’s name. You knew Namjoon was capable of indescribable violence. What if you were jeopardizing Seung Ho’s life by involving him in this mess? “I’m at a hotel, he brought me out for the first time. I didn’t notice the name properly; I think it is Conrad but I’m not sure.” He was silent for a minute before asking you the monogram on the toiletries. You told him that it was an intricate C embroidered in gold. You heard someone knocking on your stall’s door. “I’ll come and get you. Stay there and don’t let him suspect anything,” he said and cut the call. You ran out, returned the phone to its owner, and fixed your dress and makeup.

Your heart was beating wildly when you stepped out of the bathroom suite and walked towards the banquet hall. The first thing that you noticed on entering the hall was that Namjoon was missing from his group of friends. As you turned towards the table you had shared with Eun Ji and the others, you stopped abruptly in your tracks. There was Namjoon, talking earnestly to Eun Ji, apparently interested in whatever she was saying. With one swift lift of his head, he stared directly into your eyes. All the blood drained from your face as you watched him stretch his face into a slow predatory smile. Something screamed inside your head, telling you to call Seung Ho back and stop him from coming. But it was too late. With an arched eyebrow, Namjoon beckoned you to join him.

"Eun Ji here was just telling me that you wanted a phone,“ he said silkily, his fingers ghosting your arm, "You could have just asked me, honey.” You slumped your shoulders, saying “I thought you were busy with your friends, so I asked Eun Ji.” He gave you a smile that would seem loving to any other person, but to you, it meant malevolence. “You two make a gorgeous couple,” Eun Ji giggled and winked at Namjoon. He chuckled easily and launched into a description of how cute you were. But you couldn’t listen to a word he said. Your mind was worrying profusely about Seung Ho. What would happen to him if Namjoon came to know about him? You couldn’t even imagine what the man would do to your friend. Cold fear crept its way up to your shoulders as his eyes danced all over your face, challenging you. He left saying that the food was delicious and that you should go and try the chocolate parfait. Eun Ji offered to go with you. The devil loosened his grip surprisingly and you made your way to the table farthest from him.

It was around 30 minutes later that you received a message through one of the waiters. He dropped a tightly rolled slip of paper on your plate as he set it down. You looked at him with a sudden jerk of your head, and he quietly motioned towards the end of the hall. There, looking at you intently, was the woman who had lent you her phone. As soon as she was sure you had caught her eyes properly, she nodded her head in one swift motion. Then she lowered her eyes to her drink and didn’t look up again. You felt your entire being trembling with fear as you thought of what would happen if your stunt transpired and Namjoon came to know. You had the sinister feeling that you were being watched. The knowledge that Namjoon had stepped out of the hall with Yoongi and hadn’t returned only served to twist the knot in your stomach tighter. Carefully, pretending to look around for a waiter, you swept your eyes throughout the hall. No Namjoon was in sight.

With great caution, you unrolled the paper and read its contents. “Come out as soon as you get this. I’ll come to you when I see you.” You re-read the paper to make sure it was Seung Ho’s handwriting. With another wary glance, you ascertained that Namjoon was, in fact, not in the room. None of the women at the table had seen your paper, they had been chatting in a drunken stupor.

You were hit by a wave of nausea. You would rather stay and die with Namjoon than see Seung Ho being hurt. What if you just slipped out, met him, told him you’d come back someday, and came back to your captor? At least Seung Ho would see you were alright and would agree to wait and plan your escape. You felt it was rational to come back tonight and try to escape another day. So, with your head spinning, you slowly traced your steps to the main door. As an afterthought, you turned and walked down the sleek wooden paneled hall and reached the side doors. You knew that hotels like these had a private entrance that was mostly connected to the fire escape. You decided it was worth a shot and crept down the fire escape, with a steady lookout for Namjoon or any of his friends. You reached the last few steps and crept along the dimly illuminated tunnel that forked out from the base of the stairs. Just like you had guessed, the tunnel led you directly to the VIP entrance. When you emerged out of the tunnel, a guard signaled for you to stop. You felt your ears ring as you complied. With a forced smile, you looked at the guard and said, “ I’m the hostess of the party at the banquet hall. Is something wrong?” His eyebrows cleared and he nodded you forward with “Nothing ma'am. Have a pleasant evening.” You couldn’t believe your luck as you sailed regally out of the gates and stepped onto the cold gravel.

Pressing his earpiece, the guard talked into his microphone, “ She has just left the building, she turned westward and continued down the road.”

You didn’t know where Seung Ho would be, so you were unsure of which direction you had to take. Ducking in the shadows, you reached the end of the street and remained hidden as you scanned the entire road for any sign of Seung Ho. Almost an eternity passed before you spotted a figure wearing a bomber jacket you would recognize anywhere. You silently moved towards the walking figure to meet them halfway. You were right, it really was Seung Ho. Heart beating wildly, you broke into a frantic jog and launched yourself straight into his open arms. He hugged you tight with whispers of “Are you okay?” “Are you hurt?” Without breaking the embrace, he turned you around on your heels and told you to sprint as fast as you could with him. Your brain screamed at you as to what a stupid decision it was. Yet, your legs started to move on their own. You could not help but think, what if you could run away from all this? You held his hand as you ran at breakneck speed down the road, zigzagging through the lanes and smaller streets.

After what seemed like fifteen minutes of running, your lungs gave out and you had to stop. He pulled you into an alley and the two of you crouched in the dark. You cuddled into him, missing the wonderful presence of someone familiar. Seung Ho was shushing you, patting your back while he kept an alert vigil on the alleyway. Neither of you uttered a single word, both absorbed in your own mortal fears on what would happen if something went wrong after coming this far. You kicked yourself for running away, after all those ‘rational’ plans of returning to Namjoon as soon as you finished meeting Seung Ho. Now you were absolutely sure Namjoon would break every bone in your body if he ever got his hands on you again. You can sense that Seung Ho was confused at all this, yet he never uttered a word. After your lungs stopped feeling like you had swallowed molten lava, you jabbed Seung Ho’s shoulder and whispered, “How did you send that message to me? How were you sure it would reach me?” He winked and said, “I got another person to call the number you had called me from. When I found out that it was a woman, I called and asked if she could deliver a message to the person she had lent her phone to. She didn’t mind, so I got her name, quickly scribbled a message and sent it to her through the reception desk.” Your eyes opened in wonder and you pressed an innocent kiss on his cheek for being so smart. He gave you his cheeky grin and dismissed you as a ‘sloppy kisser’. You giggled and dug your fingers into his ribs, asking if it was time to resume running. He swept his eyes over the alleyway and nodded. Cautiously, he got up and went to check the road in case anyone was lurking there. When he was satisfied that the coast was indeed clear, he signaled you to join him.

The two of you were bone-tired when you reached the busy crossroads almost 3 miles from the Conrad Hotel. Considering the fact that Namjoon was probably already combing the area in search of you, Seung Ho decided to hitch a ride. He reasoned with you that it was safer because you stayed anonymous and it was more sensible than booking a cab. You agreed and waited for someone to slow down in response to Seung Ho’s outstretched thumb. You kept getting jittery as you eyed each passing car, scared of getting caught by him. Fortunately, a car slowed down, and a woman rolled down her window. Seung Ho quickly asked her if she could drop the two of you at the next metro station. She agreed and both of you hopped in with relieved smiles.

The woman stopped at an intersection and turned to Seung Ho saying, “ You just have to walk a couple of minutes due North and you’ll reach the metro.” You turned back and looked out of the window. There was no one in sight. You nodded your head and alighted, thanking her profusely. As soon as she drove away, Seung Ho held your hand and started walking with brisk steps. You had a sinister feeling of being followed and kept your ears tuned to the surroundings. There was a cold breeze blowing, turning your exhaled breaths into mists of warm vapor. Suddenly you heard a noise directly behind you. You could have sworn you had heard the crunch of shoes on gravel just then. Tightening your grip on Seung Ho’s hand, you started running down the poorly lit road. You ran as fast you could, and your lungs were threatening to betray you.

As the two of you dashed forward, you ran smack into a person who seemingly materialized out of the gloomy night itself. Before you could comprehend anything, you saw a flash of black grab and yank you from Seung Ho. Your head swam as the blackness pressed you in a chokehold that grew tighter with each passing second. You almost blacked out when you heard a deep voice laced with malice croon in your ear, “Found ya, baby girl.” Before you could pass out, he loosened his grip on your throat. You fell hard on to the cold rough gravel. A dark shoe pinned your palm to the gravel and twisted it, bruising the back of your hand and crushing it against the gravel. You yelped in pain and suddenly everything came into focus. You were pinned to the ground by Namjoon’s foot, and Seung Ho was being held by a hooded stranger, with a knife dangerously close to his neck.

Bending down, Namjoon pulled you up by your hair, twisting it around his hand as though he owned you by the reins. With a sharp tug, he brought you upright and had you facing Seung Ho. “I was so bored, waiting for you to come out of the damned alley, princess. I almost lost my patience. But then I decided to let you think you had outsmarted me. I wanted to dangle freedom in front of you and snatch it when you thought you had almost won.” He turned your head to face him and slapped you hard across the face, making your cheek sting. “I’ve been so good to you and this is what I get for my kindness? Some selfish bitch you are. And you ran off, with him? I am so disappointed in you, Y/N.” You saw Seung Ho try to move, and the stranger pressed the blade even closer against his skin. Your eyes were blurry from all the tears threatening to spill out. You had been caught, just as you had feared. You would not be getting away with this easily. Now, because of you, Seung Ho was in harm’s way too.

"I saw you kiss him”, Namjoon was pressing a cold blade against your lips,“ And he called you a sloppy kisser?” he scoffed. “You had some nerve, kissing a man and hugging him like that, thinking I wouldn’t know.” So, the bastard had been following you the entire time! You tried to open your lips, but the sharp edge of the blade held firmly against your lips was drawing blood now. “ I took such good care of you, only to be repaid with this?” he twisted your hair tighter in his hand. Fat drops of tears started falling from your eyes, dampening the fabric on your chest. You couldn’t talk, not with the blade against your lips.

You felt him relax his grip abruptly, and you fell down again, losing your balance. A sharp well-placed kick to your ribcage rendered you motionless, with nothing more than a groan escaping your bleeding lips. Lying down crumpled on the gravel, you saw Namjoon advance towards Seung Ho ominously. The stranger held Seung Ho in a firm grip. “How dare you roam your filthy fingers over her, you bastard,” Namjoon growled. “A sloppy kisser? You have the nerve to touch her and then call her a sloppy kisser?” Lip curling with rage, he placed several punches on Seung Ho’s face. Crying out for Namjoon to stop, you tried to push yourself upright. A crushing pain in your chest ran like an electric jolt throughout your body, making you fall back down, gasping in agony. “Does it hurt, baby doll?”, Namjoon cooed. “Well, you should’ve thought about it before you ran away with this scum. Now, here you are writhing in pain”, he chuckled with amusement.

You watched Namjoon hit Seung Ho, all the while raving obscenities at Seung Ho’s audacity in touching something that belonged solely to him. You could do nothing but cry and beg Namjoon to stop. After he had bloodied Seung Ho’s face to his satisfaction, Namjoon came back to you and pulled you upright, making sure to clutch you tight around your ribs. You were about to faint any moment because of the excruciating pain. He dragged you towards Seung Ho, who was only half-conscious. His nose had been broken, he had a cut lip and swollen jaws. Blood dripped from a cut on his brow, falling on his eyelashes and making a tiny red rivulet trickle down his face.

"No one ever touches you anymore, nor will you ever try to leave me. For learning this lesson, the price you have to pay is quite cheap,” growled Namjoon. You were staring helplessly at your best friend when you saw a flash of silver slice the air and stab his chest. “ No!” you screamed, trying vainly to run out of Namjoon’s grasp. The sharp blade came down a couple more times on Seung Ho, draining the life slowly out of his body. Namjoon let go of you and you dropped down to your knees, scrambling to cradle Seung Ho’s head in your lap, crying all the while. He was gasping for air, eyes wide, trying to tell you something. You wailed on seeing the blood gush out rapidly, you held his head and begged him to stay with you. He leaned a little bit closer, enough for you to hear him, and whispered softly, “I am sorry. I..” But you knew everything was over when you saw Seung Ho’s eyes fixate on you, and saw the light leave his eyes. You cried uncontrollably, all your memories with him flashing in front of you. Yet, here he was, lifeless and cold. All because of you. His beaming face, smile, kindness, and care had become something of the past all because of you.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Namjoon getting down on his knees next to you. You felt his hot breath fanning your ear and turned to stare into his eyes. You were so lost in agony that you couldn’t even curse him. He pulled your hand and wrapped your fingers around the cold hilt of the knife that had pierced your best friend’s flesh. “Baby, look what you made me do,” he sighed, “His blood is staining your beautiful dress.” You looked at him with wide pupils, unable to get a word out. “Go on, I don’t mind if you hug or kiss him now. He won’t come between us anymore.” Seung Ho’s blood was seeping into the fabric of your dress, staining the pale peach fabric a bloody red. “By the way, you look ravishingly beautiful in red, darling,” Namjoon said, wiping the blade on your dress. Without any remorse, he murmured, “I’ve killed a man to protect you. I think you should consider calling me a wonderful guy next time when someone asks.” You watched the man walk away, pressing his shoes to the gravel, holding the reins of your entire being in his hands.

#yandere bts #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere kpop #yandere namjoon #yandere rm #jooniyah #star-crossed #bts #bts fanfic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan #bts yandere #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #rm

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day-writingdaydreams · 4 years

Text

Loyal, Brave & True

Based heavily on the song “Loyal Brave True” from the new Disney Live-Action Movie Mulan

This work is also posted to https://archiveofourown.org/works/26332522

Summary: When all is said and done, we all have the same question: am I enough?

It’s even harder when half of your life is behind a spotted mask

Disclaimer: All characters of Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir belong to Thomas Astruc and Jeremy Zag

🎵Who am I without my armor?

Standing in my father’s shoes

All I know is that it’s harder

To be loyal, brave, and true🎵

Loyal Brave True - Christina Aguilera

Marinette trudged up the stairs, the weight of the day heavy on her shoulders. She still couldn’t get over the fact that she had been expelled from school and reinstated all within the span of less than two days.

Standing in front of her full length mirror, she took in whom she perceived to be the slightly broken person that stood reflected before her. Her pallid complexion and the dark circles under her eyes revealing the heavy exhaustion pulling at her bones.

She was tired of keeping up the pretenses, of hiding behind her spotted armor, of the endless sleepless nights of being too stressed out by schoolwork and Lila’s threats and finding ways to stop Hawkmoth.

Of pretending that she was okay when she really wasn’t.

It just seemed like everyone believed every one of Lila’s lies! How could they believe that she threw that lying bitch down those stairs? That sneaky fox didn’t even try to pretend that she had hurt herself from her fall.

Where was the security footage? Why didn’t anyone insist on taking that Italian vixen to the nurse to get her checked over? Anyone with eyes could see that she was faking her injuries!

Looking past herself in the mirror, Marinette saw the pictures that she had tacked to the wall. Images of her with her parents, with the Girl Squad. With Alya and Nino.

With Adrien.

Feeling betrayed by those whom she thought had her back, she turned to her Kwami with tears in her eyes, desperate for validation. “Tikki?”

“Yes, Marinette?” The little red being asked from her spot on the desk, chocolate chip cookie in hand.

“Am I a good Ladybug?” The designer asked in a small voice.

“Oh, Marinette,” Tikki sighed, setting the cookie down. “Of course you’re a good Ladybug! You are one of my best wielders.”

“But am I, really? I mean, underneath the suit, without the spots... am I truly a good Ladybug?" Marinette asked pensively.

‘Oh,’ the Kwami thought, ‘this is one of those questions. She’s doubting herself again.’

"Marinette," she began, "how many times must I tell you this? There is no Ladybug without you." Tikki flew over to rest on her Chosen's shoulder. "There have been and there will be other holders of the Ladybug Miraculous," she continued in a contemplative voice, "but you are the only one who could be Ladybug. With and without the mask."

Suddenly a thump was heard on the balcony, and with a quick look conveying a mutual understanding that this conversation wasn’t finished, Tikki flew fast to hide in a desk drawer. Soon after, there was a knock heard on her skylight.

“Hello, Purrincess!” The cat themed hero greeted her as she let him in. “I wanted to check up on my favorite civilian. I heard that there was some excitement at your school recently?”

That show of kindness was the straw that broke the camel's back. The dam holding in her tears broke and Marinette collapsed, sobbing. With a startled “Whoa,” Chat Noir quickly caught her before she hit the ground, holding her tightly against him while trying to calm the crying girl in his arms.

When her sobs became hiccups, and her hiccups turned to sniffles, he was finally able to ask, “Princess, what happened?” with concern lacing his voice.

“It… it was awful Ch-chat N-noir. I... I was almost ak-kumatized yesterday,” she choked out.

“What?!” Chat exclaimed quietly, still holding the shaking girl in his embrace. Scooping her up carefully in a bridal hold, he settled them down comfortably on her chaise with her curled up tightly against him, her head tucked under his chin, similar to how his own mother would cradle him as a crying child. "Princess… Marinette, can you walk me through this? Please? I want to understand what happened.”

She slowly confided to him her worries. Well, almost all of them. The cat-themed hero growled low as he learned of the fake fox's promised threats, furious that Lila had the audacity to harm his cherished friend.

High-road be damned, no one hurts his Princess!

“And what really... made it worse… was that... everyone was writing my concerns off as … as jealousy,” Marinette choked out as her crying started back up. “I am NOT jealous of that … that … lying fox!”

Taking a deep breath to quell his rage, lest he become an Akuma himself, Chat gave

the dark-haired beauty in his arms a gentle squeeze to comfort her. "Losing is easy, winning takes bravery, and the kindest of whispers can seem cruel from those whom we consider our friends," he told her in a soft voice, kissing the top of her head to comfort her. Pulling back just a bit so that he could wipe away her tears with the back of his knuckles, careful not to scratch her with his claws, he stated, "You are one of the sweetest, kindest, and bravest people that I've ever known, Marinette."

"I don't feel very brave," she responded quietly with a pout, before burying her tear-stained face into his chest.

"But you are! You are so brave!" he cooed at her, gingerly running a clawed hand up and down her spine in an attempt to soothe. "Braver than I am, and I'm betting that you're even more brave than Ladybug."

That line earned him a snort.

Encouraged by that sound, Chat grinned as he continued to extoll her virtues. "I also have on very good authority that you are a very loyal and true friend. That is an extremely rare quality to have," he said as he gently pushed back her bangs, placing a feather-light kiss to her forehead.

Marinette shifted slightly in his hold, peeking up at him through her long, inky eyelashes. "Do you really think so?" she asked bashfully, a pink tinge highlighting the freckles that were scattered like stars across the bridge of her nose.

"I know so," he confirmed with a wry grin. "Didn't that Agreste kid call you an ‘Everyday Ladybug’ once?" he asked, his grin morphing into a smirk. "Trust me, there is no higher praise than that that I could think of."

'She really is adorable,' the errant thought swam across his stream of conscience.

His mind screeched to a halt.

‘Wait... what?’

After thinking it over for a moment, he came to the conclusion of ‘Well, it's true.’

The look of awe she gave him made him catch his breath. Her blue eyes seemed to grow larger, the color appearing to nearly glow. Her parted lips looked so soft too...

'Get a grip, Agreste!’ He admonished himself. ‘She’s your friend, and she’s hurting right now!'

He re-positioned her within his embrace, turning her until her back was against his chest, her head nestled against his left shoulder. He spied a black permanent marker within his reach and grabbed it, uncapping it with his teeth. Spitting out the cap, he reached for her right hand, softly asking, "May I?"

"What are you doing?" Marinette asked, placing it in his hand with trust in her gaze. Chat marveled at her bluebell stare for only a moment before returning his attention to the task at hand.

Nestling her delicate wrist within his large clawed hands like a treasured prize, he placed a soft kiss to the back of her knuckles, smiling fondly. "I just want to leave you a little reminder," he said as he turned the appendage, placing the marker's tip to the delicate skin of the inside of said wrist.

She struggled not to move, though she did flinch slightly at the cool feeling of the writing instrument’s ink against her skin. Her face burned slightly at the tenderness he was showing her, but that wasn’t what drew her attention.

It was the look on his face.

With his masked face twisted in concentration, the cat themed hero produced neat, careful hanzi on the designer's porcelain skin.

"There," he said with triumph and pride in his voice, drawing her attention to what he had been doing to begin with.

There, now decorating the once unmarked skin, were three simple but intricate Chinese characters

忠

勇

真

They were beautiful. And her silly, sweet, kind, destructive partner had put them there.

Chat Noir was indeed proud. It was his best try at the complicated writing system to date, so it only seemed fitting that it would look perfect against his friend’s gorgeous skin. "Now, whenever you feel down about everything you just told me about, I want you to look down at your wrist. For you are Loyal," he points at the first character, pausing for a moment before moving on to the next one. "Brave," he continued until he moved his clawed finger to the last of the three characters, "and True."

Tearing her gaze from the beautiful words now adorning her wrist, Marinette found herself drowning in gratitude and fondness for her partner. Turning her head slightly, she locked his peridot gaze with her azure, whispering, "Thank you, Chat Noir."

Feline eyes softened, and finding that his heart was beating just a tad harder for his dark haired friend, the boy beneath the mask replied just as quietly, "You're welcome, Marinette."

When it was time for him to leave, she followed him up to her balcony, bidding him goodnight. They shared one last hug before he leapt off of the balcony rail, performing some feat of aerial acrobatics to make her smile. Laughing at her partner’s antics, she leaned against the railing, taking in the balmy night air. Inhaling with the smile still on her face, she let her heart fill with gratitude once more to her partner. Letting out a long exhale, she found that her attention was once more drawn to the foreign words written along the inside of her wrist. She’d have to find a way to cover them up for tomorrow, but that was a problem for Future Marinette to worry about.

At this time, Tikki floated up out of hiding, making herself known to her holder before setting herself onto Marinette's shoulder. The Kwami took notice of the words now written on her chosen's appendage. "Well, that was a very nice thing that Chat Noir did for you, Marinette," she said approvingly.

"Yeah," Marinette replied, still staring down at the writing with a soft smile on her face. "It really... was..." she trailed off, the smile slowly slipping off of her face as she stared at her wrist more intently. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach as the actions of her partner finally registered. "Tikki?" she asked, her voice a little higher in pitch than normal.

"Yes, Marinette?" the kwami answered, confusion coloring her voice as she floated in front of her wielder’s face to gage her expression. She was surprised to see the beginnings of panic etching themselves onto the designer’s countenance. “Marinette, what’s wrong?” Tikki asked, worry coloring her tiny features.

On the verge of hyperventilating, Marinette looked up to her with eyes wide and asked, "Why did Chat Noir write those words on my wrist in Chinese?!"

Love reading/writing fanfics and enjoy making/looking at fanart? Come join https://discord.gg/mlfanworks The Miraculous Fanworks Discord Server and meet our amazing community! Hope to see you all soon!

#Val tries to write #write val write #my miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #marichat #tikki is so done #marinette dupain-cheng #Chat Noir #Supportive Chat Noir #loyal brave true

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jadewritings · 5 years

Text

Love Letters To My Professor - Just A Little Fun

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

WARNINGS: Language, underage drinking, attempted rape, gets a little sexual

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please head the warnings! Things are about to get dark! Also, ignore the snake in the GIF, and pretend Dean is you lol

After you'd gotten your uniforms, you and Genevieve left to go to history together. You both had the same class which you were okay with that.

Mrs. Levi was the name of the teacher. She had firey red hair and crystal blue eyes. She wore a dress that pushed up her boobs to show the max amount of cleavage and make her boobs seem bigger. Every male student she thought was cute she'd personally deliver a syllabus to them, bending over so they got a good look. Of course, they didn’t seem to mind all that much.

She was beautiful, you couldn't deny that but the way she acted got under your skin. You were sure everyone else noticed the way she acted. It wasn't like she was trying to hide it.

"Hey, so there's gonna be a party for one of the fraternities. I was gonna go, you should come to." Genevieve nudged you, cutting you from your thoughts.

You grunted, "Gen I don't do parties. That's not why I came to college."

She stuck out her lower lip, giving you puppy dog eyes, "Please? I'll be there with you!" With that look it made it hard to say no to her. It's true, you didn't come here to party but you were 20, what's the worst that could happen?

"Fine. But I'm not staying there very long."

She squealed, earning some glares from other students, "All I need is an hour."

An hour. That's all she needed. You chuckled to yourself. Man this girl was gonna be the death of you.

••••

Later that night you sat in your dorm getting ready for the party. It most likely wasn't anything fancy so you stuck with a (F/C) crop top and black leggings that had parts that were see through in the front from mesh and black vans that would be comfortable enough for the hour that you stayed.

It was now almost 10 pm and the party would start soon but it wasn't much of a walk to the fraternity. You applied the minimum amount of makeup since you weren't much of a guru. Mascara, some lip gloss and you were done, letting your (H/C) fall over your shoulders.

Genevieve knocked on your door and walked in before you could answer. You didn't have a roommate. Your dorm was a single not like most of the dorms. You kind of wished she was your roommate but it was too late to switch.

You smiled and she smiled back at you, "Are you ready?" She asked.

You nodded and stood, grabbing your cellphone and key to the dorm. She laced her hand in yours, waffle style, and the two of you began your journey.

It was a crisp night, star littered the sky and it was a tad chilly. Things underneath your shirt hardened and became obvious.

You walked up the steps, hearing the pounding music even from the outside, and walked through the door. You were immediately hit by the stench of alcohol. You weren't much of a drinker, though you had the occasional glass of something. Most alcohol didn't suit your taste buds.

Genevieve pulled you through the crowd to the kitchen, grabbing you both a red solo cup, of course, and poured some bud light into it. Simple, nothing too harsh to start with. You took it and sipped at it, looking around and scanned the faces in the room next door. You saw some of the girls from the team dancing and grinding on some drunk guys.

Man if you had the balls to do that. Maybe people would think you were fun. You didn't mind though, solitude did you just fine. Plus you had the soccer team so that was plenty of human interaction.

You took another sip of your drink. Genevieve clapped you on the back, "Come on girly, you gotta let loose! Drink up and let's go dance!" She was way too excited. You gulped down the rest of your drink and she handed you a shot of vodka. You cringed at the drink and she gave you a look. You rolled your eyes and took it, throwing it back with a disgusted grimace. The burn on the way down warmed your body and you felt less tense than when you arrived.

You grinned and she offered her hand out to you before she gulped another shot herself. You grabbed it and she pulled you through the crowd once again. Once you arrived you both started bouncing up and down, your hands on her waist and hers on your shoulder, her head thrown back in bliss.

You both began to grind on each other, swaying your hips in between her leg, just enjoying the music that vibrated the ground. You both attracted the attention of a few guys. One took Genevieve from you, her attention now on grinding against him. Another guy swiped you from her.

He had blond hair and blue eyes, ones that you couldn't really focus on at the moment. He turned you so your ass was against his hips. You swayed just feeling the music. Suddenly you felt something hard rub against your ass and you knew what it was.

You pushed away from him, nervously chuckling, "I'm gonna go get another drink." You shouted above the music. He didn't want you to go, the pout on his face evident enough, but you snatched your arm from his grip and headed back to the kitchen.

You leaned against the sink. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you should just go home now before things could get worse and you got drunk off your rockers. The window in front of the sink was open, letting the nights cool air brush against your face.

"Y/N!!" Genevieve screeched your name, bouncing over to you and hugging you. She was obviously drunk. The stench of vodka on her breath repulsed you. She kissed your cheek multiple times and you had to pry her off of you.

"Gen, what's wrong with you?" You asked trying to hold back a giggle.

"Have I ever told you how *hiccup* beautiful you are?" She asked. Her eyes were unfocused. You worried about her, afraid to leave her there by herself.

"Gen maybe we should go back to the dorms."

She whined and shook her head, "No! Come on just drink some— *hiccup* more. Have a little fun for once." She grabbed the bottle of vodka and lifted it above your head, ready to pour it into your mouth. You had a bad feeling but you didn't want to ruin her fun so you sighed and opened your mouth.

She giggled and tipped it over, allowing a stream to fall to your mouth. When it filled your mouth, you closed it and harshly gulped it down.

"Jesus." You said, your body involuntary convulsed. You felt the familiar warmth and all ambitions as drained from you. You were such a lightweight. You began laughing uncontrollably. Gen joined and you both went back to the dance floor.

After about an hour and a half your body started to shut down, letting you know you were tired. Gen left upstairs with a guy about 15 minutes ago, leaving you alone. So when you got tired you left albeit wobbly and unsteady, you were able to get down the sidewalk without tripping.

You breathed in the fresh air, cold compared to the hot and sweaty was of all the bodies in the house. You moaned and held your head, the start of a headache beginning.

"Ouch!" Your shoe tripped over air, making you land on your knees on the the concrete floor.

"Need some help pretty lady?"

You looked up and it was the same blond guy you ditched from the party before. You smiled weakly and nodded. He chuckled and lended you his hand. You gratefully grabbed it and he pulled you up and into him, chest against chest.

His nose almost touched yours and he breathed out, the stench once again filling your nostrils. You became uncomfortable and tried to wiggle out of his grip.

He grinned, looking from your lips back to your eyes as his hands wondered down your body, gripping your ass cheeks and giving them a squeeze, "Now where's my reward?"

You pushed your hands against his chest, trying to get away from him but his grip only tightened.

"Get off of me!" You screamed. He didn't answer, only lowered his lips to your neck and started sucking, rubbing all over your butt and back. He had a hard on and ground it into your stomach.

"Come on, I'm just having a little fun." He finally spoke, mumbling on your neck.

Tears slid down your face, hating this. You should have left when you felt like you should have. You pushed again and again before his hand snaked it's way down your leggings, brushing against the front of your panties. That made you struggle more and when he pulled his face away from your neck, you lifted your hand and scratched his face.

He hissed, rage filling his features. "You bitch!"

You darted forward trying to run to your dorm before he could catch you, but he was faster and tripped you. You screamed at the top of your lungs and tears streamed from your eyes. You scratched and hit and did as much as you could before you heard a loud voice yell. It sounded familiar.

The blond guy above you cursed and ran off in the other direction. You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall as you sobbed and curled into the fetal position.

Hands softly touched your shoulder and leg, a soft voice full of concern coming from above you, "Y/N? Y/N, you're alright, he's gone. Look at me."

You didn't want to look, you wanted to drown in the darkness behind your eyelids. But the voice pulled you to it. Your (E/C) eyes met his hazel ones filled with concern. It only made you cry harder and you wanted to shrivel up and die.

You turned and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, taking comfort in his warmth.

"Sam.." you croaked out.

"Shh. It's okay. You're safe. Is it okay if I pick you up?" He asked and you nodded. He slipped his hand underneath your legs and one behind you back as you cling to his neck, bridal style. You shoved your head into his neck, taking in his scent. It made you want to sleep, knowing you would be safe in his arms.

"Where are we going?" You mumbled, eyes shut tightly.

"To my apartment. You'll be safe there, I promise. Its not far from here."

Maybe you should have said no but in that moment your heart told you to trust him. So you just whimpered and fell asleep in his arms.

-Part 3-

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ckret2 · 5 years

Text

Godzilla Recycles

It’s been more than a month since the reawakening of the titans. In that time, they’ve been a constant fixture in the world’s news headlines. But... generally not for the expected reasons. More for things like starring in YouTube language lessons, stealing cars, and recycling their plastic.

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. It’s not ABOUT Rodorah but mentions of the ship are made. If you don’t wanna read the others... tbh this sorta sums up a lot of the stuff that’s been going on in them, just from the perspective of the humans who have no idea what’s going on. All you really need to know going in is that Ghidorah (grudgingly) yielded the fight before he otherwise would have killed Mothra. Half of the fic is a sum up of the bizarre crap the titans have been up to; the other half, is, indeed, the promised Godzilla recycling. Fic hasn’t been proofed yet because this sonuva took me almost two months to write and I want to get it out already. EDIT: now proofed!! Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

###

HEART OF MONARCH FOUND ALIVE

Throughout the titans' mass awakening, every news station, site, and paper in the world was filled with towering headlines screaming about the monsters crawling and careening across Earth's vast landscapes. Each and every individual titan had hundreds of live streams in both video and text, constantly updating the terrified world on the latest actions of the monsters storming through their cities.

The greatest number of cameras stalked Ghidorah and Godzilla's every dread-inspiring move, not just because anything that happened to the United States east coast always seemed to get disproportionate coverage, but also because someone had leaked intel revealing that Ghidorah had awakened the rest of the titans and appeared to be commanding them. Anyone dealing directly with a titan attack tracked their own beast's news, of course; but for the parts of the world situated between the attacks, watching clouds roiling far too fast overhead and listening to their homes rattle from earthquakes hundreds of miles away—their eyes darted between news about whatever nearest creature might menace them and news coming out of Boston about the titans’ supposed ringleader, waiting to see what was going to happen next.

In the aftermath of the fighting, for days there wasn’t a major paper or station that had a story that didn’t somehow feature titans, whether directly or tangentially. Every eye in the world was gazing fearfully into the distance, waiting fearfully for some several-hundred-foot-tall beast to lumber over the horizon.

And so it was somehow both amazing and completely understandable that the news totally ignored that Serizawa Ishiro had been found alive in Boston.

He was located the second morning after the fight. He was unconscious on the northern shore of Spectacle Island in Boston Harbor, within easy sight of the spot where the final titan battle had been fought. He was evacuated to the nearest operational hospital to receive treatment for exposure, dehydration, and what a week earlier might have been misdiagnosed as one bitch of a sunburn but which by then the doctors could unfortunately easily identify as radiation burns. It was another day before he was identified, and from there only a few hours before the room was full of balloons and flowers sent by dozens of Monarch employees. He hadn't woken up yet, but he was stable and expected to recover, and when he did wake up he was going to know he was appreciated.

Monarch had no idea how he'd survived. Godzilla must have saved him, everyone agreed; the leading theory was that Godzilla had stuck Serizawa in his mouth moments before the bomb exploded, driven some unknown godzillish instinct, to release him somewhere safe when he arrived in Boston just before attacking Ghidorah—and that was only the leading theory because nobody could come up with any others. (Rick Stanton's proposal that the explosion had opened up a vacuum-powered tunnel between Godzilla's lair and Boston was rejected out of hand.) Serizawa couldn't explain as long as he was unconscious, and Godzilla himself certainly wasn't going to tell them anything. But whatever had happened, they were grateful it had.

Serizawa's survival didn't make headlines; who was Serizawa to the world but another one of the many talking heads that sometimes spoke for Monarch, and not even the most frequently seen one at that? Only a few articles were devoted to his miraculous discovery, and most of them were in more specialized publications geared toward biologists, environmentalists, or titanologists. In most places, he was a two-sentence comment near the end of a longer article about Monarch's response to the tragedies or Boston's clean up efforts.

But the world was still reeling from the damage, struggling to sift through the rubble for any little signs to reassure them that this could have been a lot worse and that from now on, things could start to get better.

For Monarch, finding Serizawa alive was their sign.

GHIDORAH ROOSTS OFF EAST COAST OF MEXICO, AVOIDS FURTHER DESTRUCTION

For many others, their sign was Isla de Mara.

After the battle in Boston, when Rodan and Ghidorah began their slow flight south, Monarch was sure that they were going to head to Isla de Mara. Monarch operatives were surrounding the island when they arrived. The titans’ trajectory had been calculated, their arrival anticipated, and—although Monarch had no idea what they could actually do when the titans arrived—Monarch was sure to be there, all the same. If for no other reason than to document.

The town was still all but empty—under quarantine by the Mexican government. Rescuers were working their way through town, looking for bodies or survivors that hadn't joined the initial evacuation, in toppled buildings or buried by pyroclastic flow; but nearly everyone who could be removed from the island had been.

All the same, there was a perceptible tension over the quiet radio lines as the two titans descended into view through the clouds of volcanic ash. Just their arrival stirred tumult, kicking up clouds of previously-settled ash and rubble. Monarch and the few rescuers in the town braced themselves for hurricane-force winds to blow through what was left of the town, knocking over already-damaged buildings.

They didn't.

Although the ash on the volcano churned in the air around the two titans, not so much as a breeze stirred in the town below.

Then the titans were settled, Rodan sinking into his crater as comfortably as a vacationer into a jacuzzi, Ghidorah clinging to the side of the volcano like a bat.

And when the news got out, the world let out a tense sigh of relief. That was the sign everyone had been waiting for: the sign that, at least for now, this was really over.

PRELIMINARY FLUID DYNAMIC ANALYSIS OF AIR CURRENTS IN JOINT LANDING BETWEEN TITANUS RODAN AND MONSTER ZERO

It took days of analyzing Monarch's footage of Rodan and Ghidorah landing before a pack of fascinated aerodynamicists with expertise in computational fluid dynamics could run a proper simulation demonstrating how their wings affected the air. What the simulation revealed was that Rodan's landing should have blown devastating wind into the town below. However, Ghidorah's landing, facing directly across from Rodan and wings tilted at just the right angle, had pushed the air currents back the other way—effectively turning the force of Rodan's flaps out to sea.

And furthermore, they said it wasn't accidental. They had abundant footage now from the first time Ghidorah had landed on Isla de Mara, from his various takeoffs and landings in Boston, and from the few times he'd left and returned to Isla de Mara without being accompanied by Rodan. That wasn't how Ghidorah usually landed.

It was, however, what he had done when Rodan landed; and it was what he did in subsequent days every time Rodan returned to his volcano, until Rodan began habitually landing on the north side of the volcano instead.

The paper was released as a messy rough draft directly online, bypassing journalistic publication entirely to make it as easy as possible for everyone who might be concerned to get to the findings; in the aftermath of the titan attacks, the authors had the patience neither for peer review nor for the slow publication process and paywalls blocking off most of their usual journals. To everyone who read the preliminary paper—mainly titanologists and other aerodynamicists—the thought of a flying creature so consciously and precisely manipulating air currents like that was absolutely mind-boggling.

Even more mind-boggling was the thought that Ghidorah had bothered to do it.

Why?

TITANS EXPLORE LANDSCAPE: MOST HUMAN INTERACTIONS PEACEFUL

Over and over, they were discovering just how alarmingly clever the titans were. More than once, Kraken had camouflaged itself as a capsized ship, tentacles pressed together in the shape of a hull, just to splash any boats that came close to investigate and disappear beneath the sea, like it was playing a game with humans. Behemoth, on his way back down from Boston to Rio de Janeiro, had stopped in Guatemala to observe a construction site, waited there until the panicked workers decided he wasn't going to attack and returned to work, and then, after watching them a bit, had started doing the crane's job by picking up steel beams and putting them in place.

As articles about the damage, the deaths, and the global response to the tragedies began to receive smaller and less dire headlines, the articles about the titans' frightening and fascinating intelligence began popping up—usually not making front page news, but popping up regularly on page 2. Cell phone videos racked up millions of views.

Scylla had etched deep grooves in strange shapes in Death Valley before heading north; a few days later, the MUTO passed through, stopped and studied the grooves, before turning north as well. Which meant they were, what, a map? Instructions? It at least indicated that titans were capable of communicating with abstract symbols—that was ninety percent of the way to writing. It further suggested that the titans had language, mutually intelligible language.

Many of Monarch's employees already suspected as much; the titans vocalized at each other so much, it was completely plausible that they'd developed the capacity for speech.

They didn't expect the theory to be confirmed so blatantly.

"LANGUAGE OF THE BIG BIRDS"? MONARCH RELEASES TITAN LANGUAGE LESSONS STARRING RODAN, GHIDORAH

Outpost 56-B, which had been cobbled together within hours of Ghidorah's landing on Isla de Mara, consisted of five permanent employees, three trailers, two porta-potties, eleven (and decreasing) drones, forty cameras, one satellite, and one big red button to radio the Armada de México in case of dragon-shaped emergency. Along with the full-time employees, they had fifteen part-timers they'd hired from among the people slowly returning to town: fourteen to help monitor the titans through the cameras 24/7, and one to bike in from town with lunch each day. The outpost was stationed just north of the still-standing portions of the town of Isla de Mara, near the very edge of the volcanic rock that had been spilled when Rodan emerged. (They used to have four trailers, but the one that had been standing on volcanic rock had been kicked into town by Ghidorah. They took that to mean they weren't allowed to step on the rock.)

Outpost 56-B was surpassed for Monarch's most pathetic outpost only by Outpost 75-B, which consisted of two motorboats, a pair of walkie-talkies, a generous Airbnb stipend, and a rechargeable flashlight with a cord that, they'd discovered too late, wasn't compatible with Sudanese power outlets.

And yet, for what a ramshackle little operation Outpost 56-B was, it had been the one to provide proof of titan language. And god, what proof! They had recorded evidence of a giant pteranodon giving language lessons to a three-headed alien dragon. Slowly, and carefully; gesturing to each object or performing each action before giving the word; saying each word clearly, several times; using them in simple sentences based on previous vocabulary, each word kept separate and distinct.

Consequently, Monarch was learning Rodan's language alongside Ghidorah. So far, they had eighteen nouns, seven verbs, five adjectives, a catch-all question word that seemed to mean "who," "what," "when," and "where" all together, the words for "yes" and "no," and one interjection that seemed to mean "look at me" or "pay attention." They knew that Rodan had words for compass directions—two of them, anyway—and that his language conflated the concept of "west" with "up" and of "east" with "down" into only two words. They had Rodan's name for Ghidorah—and Rodan's name for himself, a three-part carrying "Rrrr-DAAA-nnn" cry that they immediately identified as the probable source of the remarkably consistent name that cultures around the world assigned members of Titanus Rodan. Had this one Rodan been spotted in so many locations? Or had he given Ghidorah his species name rather than his personal name? Did members of Rodan's species have personal names?

Very soon, they might be able to ask him.

Outpost 56-B started a YouTube channel, titled it "lenguaje de los pájaros titánicos (para principiantes)" and started uploading videos with both Spanish and English subtitles for anyone who couldn't work out the translations just by watching Rodan. (When Monarch HQ emailed to complain that 56-B had to ask before declassifying that kind of material, they kept posting videos, blurred out the extremely easily identifiable titans' faces, and emailed back to request a third porta-potty.) There were human beings, alive today, all over the planet, learning alongside a literal alien how to understand a titan's language.

Over the next couple of weeks, while every titan's face battled for screen time on every major news station, Godzilla's and Ghidorah's gradually appeared less and less on North American stations as the recently-averted apocalypse became old news and full-blown sapient speaking life found off the coast of the Mexico-U.S. border became the new hot story. Between his face flashing on every major news station over headlines about titan language as talking heads speculated about the possibility of complex titan civilizations, and a wave of Tamaulipeco defenders eager to claim Rodan as a state symbol who were ready to point out that most of the damage on and around Isla de Mara had actually been caused by the U.S. military, Rodan was now the most popular titan on Earth.

And then he made a trip to Infant Island.

INDONESIAN INFANT ISLANDERS VINDICATED: "GODDESS" MOTHRA COMES HOME

Many articles mentioned the fact that after the battle, Mothra had retreated to a small island in the Indonesian archipelago. Some of them even mentioned the name Infant Island.

Very few outside of local and specialist publications discussed that the Infant Islanders were reveling in the fact that their previously derided "local folkloric" claim to having been the home of a goddess had been very recently validated when Godzilla ferried Mothra straight to their island, where she settled down into a well-worn groove in the middle of town square as though she'd never left it. One reason this news was under-reported probably had to do with the fact that they refused to let reporters on the island, fearful that it would become trampled as a new tourist destination; and the threatening psychic weight of Mothra's mind pressing down on any presumptuous reporters approaching in boats hoping to be the exception deterred those who tried to defy the ban. Instead, they arranged for interviews off island or online, and provided any requested pictures of Mothra—when she agreed, of course.

The only outsiders who had been allowed on the island had been the Chen twins, accepted as valid representatives for Mothra. Although their island still had descendants from the line of twin sisters that Mothra had gifted them, they had no living twins from that line. Mothra had already promised them that their next generation of children would have twin daughters. In the meantime, visiting twins from another of Mothra's nests were... well... acceptable, the Islanders supposed. They hastily established rules about how much the Chen twins could report to outsiders about the island and its people and culture, which they faithfully followed. (Even as much as it killed legend collector Ilene to not immediately ask a million questions about what stories they'd passed down about Mothra.)

They were, however, allowed to transcribe any of Mothra's telepathic conversations with visiting titans into Mandarin as long as she herself permitted it—and she did continue to permit it—and so it was when Rodan arrived to have a long, apparently one-sided conversation with Mothra.

TITANIC ROSETTA STONE? MONARCH TRANSLATES RODAN, MOTHRA CONVERSATION

It wasn't quite as cut-and-dry as Rodan's accidental language lessons; especially since there were parts of the conversation where Mothra had sought out information straight from Rodan's mind that the Chen twins couldn't make any sense of—except that Rodan’s thoughts had something to do with a very interesting hug-like display on Isla de Mara from the day before, and that they were rotten with fear.

(The “hug” from Ghidorah to Rodan—if that was what it was—was already infamous in Monarch. The 56-B team had eagerly circulated it throughout Monarch yesterday in the form of a several-second video that was set to the cheesiest pop song they could find and covered in heart emojis. Shortly before they’d uploaded the same video—without authorization—to their official Twitter and TikTok accounts. Stories about Rodan were beginning to pop up not just under news sites' World sections, but also under Entertainment. It was a jarring sight, considering how many of those stories also featured an alien dragon that had recently tried to destroy the world.)

But despite not having a word-for-word translation, Rodan's conversation with Mothra and its Mandarin translation did offer the possibility of a rosetta stone with which they could decipher far more about his language. Comparing his language lessons with Ghidorah to his conversation with Mothra was like comparing day one of a college Spanish 1 class to Don Quixote. It was a huge leap forward toward the day—which now seemed not like a possibility but an inevitability—when they would be able to pipe sentences in Rodan's language through a speaker and have a real conversation with him.

Rodan's trip to Infant Island should have been the most noteworthy titan news of the day.

But noteworthy news was nearly impossible to predict.

GHIDORAH RETURNS TO BOSTON, LIVE UPDATES: ONE INJURED. EXPLORES RUBBLE, INTERACTS WITH HUMANS.

Two hours before Rodan's conversation with Mothra, the eyes of half the planet had been glued to a constant live news stream coming out of the United States, as one local station after another trained its cameras toward the skies, following Ghidorah as he headed north. The world dreaded that the moment Rodan left him unsupervised, he'd decided to pick up exactly where he'd left off. It seemed that he’d even returned to Boston specifically to continue his apocalypse.

Instead, he stole a speaker and a car, made fun of the U.S. Army, complied with some demolitionists' request to help them take down a building, and went home.

After that, the far more academic matter of a new jump forward in titan linguistics was relegated to a small article on Monarch's official titan tracking website.

MONARCH ISSUES RED ALERT: GHIDORAH AND RODAN MOVING SOUTH OVER ATLANTIC

Another example of the unpredictability of newsworthy items:

Rodan—along with Ghidorah—was back in the news later that evening for what the 56-B crew was insistently calling a "lovers' spat," a brief skirmish that ended with Ghidorah literally storming off to Antarctica and Rodan charging into the hurricane after him.

For several hours, the world was braced, yet again, for the potential end of the world.

But before the next morning, it was clear that the skirmish was going to end with no further loss of human life—even the four Monarch employees stationed in what was left of Outpost 32 had evacuated long before Ghidorah had arrived to sweep the ruins into the very hole he'd emerged from. Coasts in the southern hemisphere on both sides of the Atlantic were hit with vicious waves as Ghidorah's hurricane passed by, but nothing that threatened seaside homes, and the worst they got in the way of weather was strong drizzles and stiff breezes. Satellite monitoring, a few absurdly far-off jets, and the evacuated Antarctic Monarch employees squinting through the blizzard caught fuzzy lightning-lit glimpses of another terrible titanic battle; but by the time anyone was close enough to record the fighting properly, it had ended with the two titans sitting on the coast of Antarctica together, having another language lesson.

(Outpost 56-B demanded that HQ send them the footage so that they could update their YouTube channel. HQ refused to do so until they'd reviewed the footage themselves. A traitor within the ranks sent 56-B the footage anyway, and the world was graced with the knowledge of Rodan's word for "snow.")

But despite the fact that the turbulence from Isla de Mara ultimately ended up having all of the newsworthy appeal of celebrity relationship drama, it still received far more coverage than the real breaking news happening halfway around the world:

GODZILLA RECYCLES

In the town of Kuta, on the island of Bali, in Indonesia, was the Ngurah Rai International Airport.

Godzilla had been harassing it for the last two weeks.

The airport crossed nearly the entire length of a peninsula, its runway jutting out into the sea to the west and to the east only separated from water by a strip of trees hardly a fifth of a mile wide. Kuta Beach stretched out along the coast both north and south of the runway. Located an equal distance away from the outposts that had contained titans "Typhon" and "Bunyip," Kuta was untouched by the recent attacks; but the beaches were still oddly barren, as the tourism that would usually be ramping up this time of year was reduced due to the vast swathes of the human population that had to instead turn their resources to recovering from the recent attacks. Still, there were some tourists out on Kuta Beach—enough that, when Godzilla's dorsal plates rose out of the ocean to the west, the wave of people running east to avoid him could be veritably classified as a stampede.

As Godzilla approached the Ngurah Rai International Airport, every airplane that hadn't taken off was grounded and those coming in were frantically redirected to nearby islands. He lumbered straight up to the side of the runway, feet still in the water of the beach as he leaned over the runway, dropped a massive pile of nets, and promptly turned around and returned to the ocean.

The airport shut down all operations and called Monarch.

As Serizawa, the world's only true Godzilla expert, was still in a coma, Monarch had to guess at what he'd say about Godzilla's strange behavior. They decided that Serizawa would probably say he was trying to restore Earth's natural order, which probably included dealing with its pollution; so Godzilla was returning human detritus to whom it belonged—the humans—so that they could properly clean up their own mess.

So the airport waited a day, removed the nets with a hazmat crew, and the next day was cautiously back in business.

And a day later, Godzilla was back with another delivery of nets. When he reached the spot where he'd dropped his first pile, he paused, looked around, and then climbed onto the runway and stormed along the length of it, apparently looking for his original stash. He pushed aside airplanes and bent over to peer into hangars and terminals, where terrified travelers who thought they'd be safer inside stared back at him. Eventually he gave up and, with a roar of frustration, sank back underwater.

This time, Monarch decided they were pretty terrible at roleplaying as Serizawa and advised the airport to leave the nets be.

They pushed the nets to the very corner of the airport grounds, near where Godzilla had left them and still out in the open but off of the runway itself. They stank. Apology signs were posted on the nearby beach and the tourists moved further south.

The third time Godzilla visited, he graciously accepted their relocation, added his new nets, and left in peace.

After several more such trips, he showed up in the middle of the night with a new piece of cargo: Mothra, riding on his back, her wings—one whole, one tattered since the battle in Boston—raised high.

A monarch ship, with the Chen twins on board, followed close behind, ready and eager to find out from Mothra just what in the hell Godzilla was doing with the nets.

Whatever the titans talked about on their way to Bali, Monarch had been too far away to hear. But now that they were on land and speaking to each other, in roars and in telepathy, the Chen twins began translating and transcribing their conversation:

"It's ugly," Godzilla said, "But I think it will work."

Mothra had climbed off of his back and onto the airport grounds, and was prodding at the pile of nets with one leg. I'm not so sure.

"We can try it! It'll be fine."

Why are we so close to humans? Mothra turned toward the airport, which was one again closed. At least at this time of night there were far fewer travelers. They're nervous.

"This is the only place with flat enough ground." He jerked his head toward the runway. "Lay down with your wing on the flat strip. I'll trace it."

Someone had produced some spotlights—Monarch didn't know who, they weren't working with them—and pointed it at the titans. Mothra had gestured for them to point the light down at the runway instead. Although whoever was behind the lights apparently didn't have enough sense to not shine a giant flashlight in a couple of city-destroying monsters' faces, they did at least have enough sense to listen when the less destructive one made a request, and pointed the light down. It shined off of Mothra's good wing as she maneuvered herself onto her back and lay it flat on the runway.

Godzilla knelt next to her and very carefully traced around the wing with a claw, scraping a gouge into the concrete. "I've melted the humans' floating weeds before," he said, and Mothra silently clarified to the Chen twins that he was referring to the nets. He did have a word for nets, but the word didn't convey his disdain for them the way "floating weeds" did. "If you get enough of it together, when it cools, it makes a solid layer. We just have to make a barrier around the outline and melt the weeds in it. The hard part is making a barrier that won't melt or catch fire. I still don't know what to use, but we can probably find something nearby. Maybe we can make glass on the beach."

Why don't you make a flat layer from the floating weeds without a barrier and then cut a wing shape out of it?

Godzilla stopped halfway through tracing Mothra's wing, looked at the gouge he'd already carved into the runway, and said, "I guess that would be easier."

As they dragged the nets onto the runway, Mothra said, Rodan visited today.

Godzilla's head jerked up. "Has the freak tried to kill him yet?"

No.

"Is he being mind controlled?"

I'm not sure. I don't think so—he doesn't think so—but I don't know.

Godzilla let out a low, displeased grumble. "What's going on over there?"

And Mothra didn't know—not for sure—so, for a moment, they were both silent. They finished piling the nets together in the middle of the runway. Godzilla's dorsal plates began glowing—not their usual piercingly bright blue, but a very dull glow that flickered near the bases of his plates like he was trying unsteadily to keep his power low. The light traveled far slower than usual up his back. He opened his mouth halfway as the light neared his head.

Finally, uncertainly, Mothra said, I think they might like Rodan.

Godzilla's plates flashed nearly white. He hacked out a ball of blue light, then let out a cough that rattled windows.

Sorry.

"Timing!" Godzilla looked at the bit at the edge of the nets that had been incinerated, whined, and started gearing up for another, more controlled burst. To the Chen twins' surprise, the conversation continued; apparently either Godzilla was also telepathic, or could simply think thoughts that Mothra could translate as easily as his usual speech. What do you mean, "like"? As a mate? As a meal? As something to beat up?

(Someone on the Monarch ship made a mental note to call up Mark and tell him that Godzilla also wasn't sure whether Ghidorah was looking to Rodan for food, a fight, or a fuck.)

As a mate, Mothra said. Or a friend? Something positive. Something social. Either they like him, or they're trying to trick Rodan into liking them—and if it's the latter, I don't know what they're after.

If it's not the latter? This time, Godzilla got it right. His atomic breath looked more like the flame of an oversized bunsen burner: translucent blue, mostly steady, faintly flickering. He began slowly melting down the massive pile of fishing nets.

If they really do like him... then I still don't know what they're after. I have no idea what someone from another world thinks mating is for.

You'll have a better idea than any of us. You're the only one that's been to other planets.

(Ling Chen clapped both hands over her mouth and let out a long, quiet, high-pitched noise. The Monarch employees, watching an automatic google-translated English copy of the conversation going up on the ship's main screen as Ilene and Ling typed it up in Mandarin, each silently flipped their shit in their own personal ways. One shouted "No!" Someone else just slid out of her chair to the floor, quietly repeating, "Oh my god." Another kicked over a waste bin, laced his hands in his hair, and stared at the ceiling, overcome with emotion. )

I've never been to their planet, Mothra said. I don't know what to expect. But, I think that it means that we're safe. For now.

For now. The nets were now a massive greyish-orange-teal ooze stretching out along the runway. Godzilla shut his mouth and straightened up. The grass sizzled where the nets ran over the side of the runway. "For now—as long as the freak stays interested in Rodan. And as long as Rodan doesn't turn him down. And as long as another Rodan doesn't hatch and try to mate him. And as long as Rodan remains alive."

(Ling made notes differentiating between the two different words Godzilla was using that she and her sister were both putting down as "Rodan" in their transcriptions: "Rodan (personal name; untranslatable?)" versus "Rodan (species name; 'volcano bird/pteranodon')." Ilene came back and changed "volcano bird/pteranodon," with a tiny smirk, to the English "volcanic roc.")

More or less, Mothra said.

"Then we should kill him while he's got his guard down."

Rodan will defend them.

"Then we get backup before we go."

You don't want to have to kill Rodan.

"No! I don't! But if it's between him dying or our whole world, I'll rip his head off!" Trees trembled with the force of Godzilla's roar. "If it's only a matter of time before the freak wants to destroy the world again, then we shouldn't wait around until he decides to. We can't let him make the first attack. It only takes him a few seconds to seize every mind on the planet. What if he gets me next time?"

I'd save you, Godzilla.

(Although Ilene wrote "Godzilla" in her transcription, she almost absent-mindedly included a parenthetical translation for the name that Mothra was really calling him. The watching Monarch employees were once again thrown into paroxysms of shocked disbelief.)

Godzilla was silent for a moment. "I know you would," he said. "That's not the point. The point is, we lost to him last time. We might not be able to beat him unless we take him by surprise. But you don't want to, do you? Why?"

Mothra didn't reply immediately. Instead, she lay back down, laying her wing along the length of the solid sheet of nylon on the runway. Godzilla started tracing around it with a claw tip again. What if they can change? she finally asked. Maybe we don't have to fight them again. Maybe this is a chance to get them to integrate into this world. Maybe they'll have a chance to heal.

(Underneath the word "heal" was this sense of massive, dark wounds, damage that felt as deep and ancient as Earth's very tectonic plates—something broken in Ghidorah's psyche that still ground together painfully inside him, spawning earthquakes and jagged mountains and chasmic trenches and volcanic explosions in his soul. The feeling was so strong and so dark that Ilene briefly had to stop typing, pressing a hand over her aching heart. Ling did her best to transcribe it, but ended up with only a string of characters that translated vaguely like "pain break scar wound darkness psychic hurt trauma?")

"Healing is the exact opposite of the thing I want to help him do."

I know. But if we can—wouldn't that be safer for the world? If we fight again, even if we win, people will die.

"Only small people."

Mothra ignored him. And that's if we win. They probably would have won last time if they hadn't gone to Rodan. If we don't have to fight them at all, wouldn't that be better for keeping the world safe?

Godzilla made a low growl that the Chens couldn't figure out how to translate any way other than "Noise of grudging resignation." He straightened up. "Okay, your new wing's cut out."

Mothra rolled over, Godzilla pried the wing off of the runway with a creaking cracking sound, and turned it around to hold it up to the remains of her injured wing.

How are you going to attach it?

Godzilla broke off another piece of plastic from the runway, held it on the other side of her damaged wing, and said, "I'm going to melt it a little bit to seal around your wing."

For a creature without anything in the way of human facial muscles, Mothra pulled off a very convincing look of utter disbelief.

"It might burn a little," he told her.

Okay, she said, resigned. Fine. I guess it can't make it worse. Do it.

She let out a long, shrill hissing noise as he melted the end of the new wing and the opposite piece of plastic together around the remains of her damaged wing, and both Chens' faces screwed up in pain. When it was done, Godzilla held her wing until it had completely cooled, and then stepped back. "Okay," he said. "Try it out."

She moved her new wing up and down slowly. It's light, she said. She attempted to flap it.

On the second flap, it snapped in half. Mothra and Godzilla both watched as the tip arced high in the air, flew off into the distance, and landed half a mile away standing up in the sand of Kuta Beach.

They looked at each other.

"We'll figure out how to fix it tomorrow," Godzilla said.

Mothra climbed onto his back. He trudged over to the broken wing, handed it to her to hold, and sank back into the ocean to swim Mothra back to Infant Island.

Although Godzilla's plastic-recycling jump into the brave new future of environmental conservationism was all but ignored by the media, in several days, one tiny detail out of the Chen twins' transcription of their conversation caught the fickle eye of mass media. A new headline dominated countless news sites' front pages:

GODZILLA'S REAL NAME: "SWEET FISH"?

Most of the articles were accompanied by an image of Godzilla photoshopped next to a pile of red Swedish Fish candy.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome & encouraged! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM fics and Rodorah fics in this verse, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#godzilla #mothra #rodorah #rodan #king ghidorah #ghidorah #kotm #my writing #fanfic #('so why did you decide Serizawa survives??' because somebody asked me 'what if... you made Serizawa survive' and I was like 'ok')#(also im now inordinately fond of the Outpost 56 B crew)

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whitewallwhispers · 5 years

Text

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. Now they’re both being pulled into something neither of them were expecting.

Warnings: Smut - unsatisfied partner, cum play, daddy kink. Extreme violence. Very explicit. (Guns, gunshot wounds, blood, brain matter, knives, stabbing, more blood. Very graphic.) Strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun.) Nothing you haven’t seen in the show, but a lot for a fanfic.

My hope is that you can imagine this character as any race with any style of hair (as someone with short hair I get annoyed when every fic mentions long locks and ponytails). Also (super minor detail) as right or left handed.

Author’s Note: This starts out very lighthearted, I hope it can make you laugh. But then it gets very dark. If you feel like you can’t stomach that part, don’t worry. I’ll have a non-explicit summary in Part Eight to get you up to speed without the gory details.

Tag List (Open! Chat or Reply): @fanfiction-trashpile | @sophster1881 | @theringostarfanclub | @thinemineours

“Cum on my tits,” she mewled, arching her back with faked pleasure and need.

Don’t you dare cum inside me, you bastard. There was only one person allowed to do that.

The paunchy old man began to grunt like some sort of farm animal, his hands hooked under her knees and holding them apart unceremoniously. Uselessly.

She wasn’t even remotely aroused - it was a miracle she wasn’t as dry as a desert, but thankfully at least her body knew how to cover the basics. She’d spent the past five minutes moaning half-heartedly while thinking about what she wanted for breakfast tomorrow.

It seemed to be working for him, though. His pace was already stuttering, his breathing ragged, sweat pouring down his forehead and chest like a pair of greasy waterfalls.

Okay, ew.

She needed to stop looking at him. So she closed her eyes and thought of England.

“Please, daddy, cum all over my tits,” she panted, clawing at the sheets beneath her as if she was unable to contain herself.

Finally, the fucker obliged, groaning like he was about to die. Painfully so. Unfortunately his aim was terrible and a stream landed square across her face.

Oh, God. She braced herself, blocking off her throat so as to minimize how much she’d taste. She wiped his sticky semen up with her thumb and stuck it in her mouth, sucking it clean while moaning as if it was as good as sex itself.

She hadn’t done enough. It tasted as rank as she’d expected and it was all she could do not to gag.

“That’s a good girl,” the man panted. “Lick up daddy’s cum, all of it, and daddy will treat you extra good.”

Fucking everloving fuckity fuck fuck.

She was too desperate for cash not to oblige. But not until she got paid.

“Put it on the table, daddy.”

He rolled off of her with yet another animalistic grunt and went for his wallet, pulling out an unexpectedly hefty stack of bills and putting it on her nightstand. He turned to face her, looking down at her with hungry, piggy eyes as he stroked his cock.

“Lick it up, princess.”

She deserved an Oscar, an Emmy, and a Tony Award for the show she put on cleaning her chest of his spew and swallowing it like it was five-star caviar. By the time she was finished he was half hard again, but she wasn’t about to let things develop into round two - she wasn’t that desperate.

“I have another client due in five minutes,” she lied, laying out on her side and grinning at him with eyes as wide and lustful as if he were a Greek god. “I always lose track of time when I’m with you.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, then, princess,” he answered with a wink. “Same time?”

Oh, goody.

“Of course, daddy.”

He couldn’t have gotten dressed any slower if he’d tried, his eyes raking over her body the entire time, his sweat immediately pooling and sticking to his shirt as soon as he had it on. Her room would smell like his body odor for the rest of the night - if she was unlucky, until tomorrow morning.

It felt like a miracle when she finally got him out the door, but not before he gave her one last kiss, shoving his slimy tongue in her mouth and making it explore her like a drunken slug. She slid the locks into place and slumped against the door, feeling like she’d just rolled around in a gutter.

The shower was so hot she thought she might give herself a first degree burn, but it felt too good to turn the temperature down. She scrubbed herself three times over before stepping out and drying her body, too tired to do the same with her hair. She slipped into her pajamas and pulled her soiled topsheet from her bed, tossing it in the corner to be washed later. Grabbing a blanket from the couch, she wrapped herself up as she counted her cash.

He’d paid her time and a half, all for that stupid last-minute show. At least he made it worthwhile. She reluctantly got back on her feet to make her way back to the bathroom to roll up her wad of bills and stuff it into the tampon box in the cabinet under her sink.

When her head hit her pillows, she fell right asleep.

The sound of screeching tires jolted her awake.

Immediately, an innate and instinctual fear rippled through her, sending the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing up straight. Car doors slammed - three of them. Feet shuffled loudly up to the doorway beneath her window, fervent murmurs dampened by the glass.

She was out of bed in a flash, ripping open her sock drawer, hands blindly feeling around in the dark until her fingers found the cold metal of her gun. She pulled it out and cocked it, keeping the safety on. For now.

Bang.

A gunshot. Something shattering. Then the repeated thump, thump, slam of what she could only guess was someone busting open the front door of her apartment building.

Her blood became frigid but her skin felt like it was on fire.

Fuck.

Whoever it was, whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. She raced across her apartment to hide herself around the corner of her bathroom, closing her eyes and trying to steady her breathing. For a while, there was only deafening silence.

And then came the clamor of footsteps thundering up the staircase, the slam of fists on doors, voices shouting “Open up!”

Some hopelessly optimistic part of her hoped that it was the police coming to arrest someone. Someone who couldn’t possibly be her.

“Where is she? Where does she live? The foreign bitch. Which apartment is hers?” The voice was familiar and she nearly vomited on the spot.

Manuel.

He’d found her, and if he’d seen her walking around with her gun it hadn’t phased him.

She was about to make a break for it to get to her phone when there came a violent crash at her door.

“I know you’re in there, you filthy fucking cunt!” Manuel roared. “Police whore!”

The weak wood creaked loudly and she could hear the hinges rattle loosely in their sockets.

Gunshots.

Three, then four, then five.

Wood splintered and metal clanged, followed by fierce, repeated kicks.

All at once, there was a great eruption of tearing and shattering. The lights flicked on.

“Come out, you stupid bitch.”

Several sets of footsteps entered her apartment, and she knew this was it.

Life or death.

She grit her teeth so hard she half expected her jaw to snap. She swallowed, her breathing so rapid it scared her and her heart pounding harder than it ever had before. Adrenaline was coursing through her like high voltage electricity, making her entire body feel like it was being pulled taut, held together by strings and wires stretched to their absolute limit.

One set of footsteps began to grow closer, and she could make out the sounds of her bed and couch being scraped across the floor.

She switched off the safety.

Something came over her.

Live or die.

Kill or be killed.

All of a sudden it was like she was standing outside of herself, watching the scene unfold. Everything slowed down, as if she were moving underwater.

Her hand went out around the corner first, already firing, before she pivoted the rest of her body around.

She’d gotten lucky - she’d shot the approaching man right in the stomach.

As he fell to his knees he fired a shot at her, then another bullet came from across the room.

She crouched and shot the man in front of her again. He was close enough that she got him right in the head, and before his body fell to the ground she launched herself across the floor so that he landed against her.

Three bullets sunk into his back, making the most sickening thuds, spraying blood everywhere. She was vaguely aware that blood and something else was dripping onto her from the gaping wound in his head, but couldn’t afford to care. She gripped his shirt and rammed her shoulder into his chest to keep him upright, the dead weight of his corpse threatening to knock her over.

She reached her hand out around him and began to shoot wildly in the general direction of where she thought the bullets might have been coming from. When another man cried out in agony, she knew she’d at least been somewhat successful.

More bullets flew past her, a few sinking into the back of her human shield again.

Then there were footsteps racing towards her.

��You fucking bitch!” Manuel screamed, firing shot after shot as he ran towards her.

She tried to shoot at him as he came down on her, but he knocked her gun out of her hand and it went skidding across the floor.

He pointed his barrel directly at her head, the scorching metal burning her forehead as he thrust the tip of it into her skin.

That was it.

She’d failed.

But at least she’d tried.

He pulled the trigger.

Click.

Either he was out of bullets or his gun had jammed, but it didn’t matter.

She stood and grabbed the barrel, pointing it up, trying to wrench it out of his grip, but she didn’t have the strength.

He fired a shot into the ceiling.

Fuck. So it wasn’t empty.

With her other hand she punched him as hard as she could in the balls.

He doubled over, collapsing over the corpse of the other cartel member and tumbling to the floor. She sprinted towards the kitchen, turning the corner just as another round was fired at her from across the room.

Whoever she’d shot, she hadn’t killed them.

She could try to run, but she’d never make it. Manuel had already gotten up and was firing at her again. She barely ducked in time, bullets shattering the tile backsplash above her stove. She ripped open the nearest drawer while staying as low as she could. Her hands fumbled for a moment before she found what she was looking for - thank God she barely had anything in there.

Two of those few things were a pair of large blades - one a cleaver, the other a sharp chef’s knife. Staying low she scooted to the far end of the counter. Waiting.

Manuel’s footsteps grew closer and his bullets more accurate, sending shards of the counter raining down on her. He probably could’ve killed her from there, but that wasn’t his style. He’d want to get her point blank in the head, looking her in the eyes as he ripped the life from her.

When he rounded the corner, his gun once again pointed right at her, she threw herself at his legs with all her might, one hand sinking the chef’s knife into his thigh and the other pulling at the back of his knee, trying to knock him over.

He fired another shot into the ceiling as he lost his balance, but by the time he hit the ground she was already swinging the cleaver at his inner thigh, biting through his jeans into the flesh as she yanked it outwards, hoping to lengthen the cut and maybe catch an artery. With her other hand she began stabbing at his stomach, her own turning each time her knife sunk into him with thick, wet sounds.

Manuel screamed, lifting his hand to fire at her again. He got one bullet out before she turned the cleaver in her grip and sliced out at his wrist, slamming the blade through his skin and tendons so hard the handle flew out of her grasp as he yanked his arm away.

He dropped the gun, but his other hand was reaching for her wrist that still stabbed at his stomach wildly. Manuel was able to wrench her hand back, and she thought he might be able to grab the knife from her, but then he coughed.

A cascade of blood flew from his mouth and he began to choke.

His hand slipped from her wrist as he tried to sit up, weakly reaching for the cleaver, but before he could get to it, his entire body went limp. He convulsed for a few moments, a horrible gurgling sound bubbling from his mouth as it overflowed with blood.

And then he was still.

But she didn’t have time to process it.

A bullet whizzed by only inches from her face and she launched herself backwards behind the safety of the counter. She scooted back so she could lie on her stomach and slid herself as far out as she dared to grab Manuel’s gun and yank it towards her. A bullet flew by her arm and sank into what remained of the door.

She had no idea where the last man was. Carefully, she sat up and rested her head against the corner of the counter, turning just enough that she could see a sliver of the room beyond.

He was propped up behind her bed, chest and arms laying across it, bleeding profusely from his right pectoral as he shakily pointed his gun in her direction. He must’ve sensed she was peeking out at him, because he fired right at her again.

Thankfully his aim was worsening, because it sank into the wall instead of her head.

She shuffled back again, trying to think of a plan.

He couldn’t see her when she was low.

There was no way for him to know where she was behind the counter.

So she slid about two thirds of the way across it, by the edge of the sink, and collected herself, dropping her knife and gripping the gun in both hands.

She might only get one chance.

If she fucked this up, she might die.

After what seemed like an eternity, she finally launched herself up, firing as soon as the gun cleared the counter, desperately hoping that she’d get close. He fired back, but only for a moment. As she caught him in the arm he dropped his gun and flopped backwards onto the floor.

But was he dead?

No.

She could hear his ragged breathing, and after a moment he began to shout.

“Fucking police whore,” he bellowed. “You’ll fucking die. We’ll fucking kill you. Where this came from? There will be more. They’ll fucking get you. You’re dead. You’re already dead.”

Slowly, she knelt down to pick up the knife again, holding her gun in one hand and it in the other.

With measured steps she made her way from behind the counter across the room to the end of her bed.

She could see him, then, laying on the ground, bleeding.

Wounded.

Not enough to die.

Upon seeing her, he launched himself up again, making for his gun.

She raised hers and shot at him.

Click.

Now it was out of bullets.

He was desperately trying to reach his firearm.

Maybe he couldn’t have grabbed it.

Maybe she was already in the clear.

But she was still outside of herself, watching her body go through motions of violence and chaos.

So she dropped her gun and closed the distance between them, standing behind him and gripping his hair in a fist. She yanked his head back.

He looked at her.

His eyes were a soft, light brown. He had thick black brows and full lips and a bit of stubble on his chin.

He was a human being.

He was probably younger than she was.

He was afraid.

But she was outside of herself. Her mind registered these things, but her body did not.

So she ran her knife along his throat all the same, slicing it deep and even.

Blood began to gush from the wound so fiercely it scared her and she released him as if he were on fire.

He flopped forward, crashing onto her bed, his hands clawing desperately at his neck as blood poured between his fingers. His body slid to the ground and he looked up at her with his beautiful eyes until they clouded over with the unflinching stillness of death.

Only then did her mind and body became one again.

The first thing she did was throw up.

Right onto his torso.

Out of all the emotions she could be experiencing in that moment, the only thing she felt was guilt. Guilt for defiling his body like that. For some reason it didn’t matter that he’d been trying to kill her. Somehow the crime of puking on his corpse felt like the worse of the two. The concept of death was still sacred to her, and she had just defilied someone in what should be their final state of dignity.

Once her vomit faded to bile, then dry heaves, she was able to straighten herself up. She dropped the knife and ran a shaking hand through her hair. The clatter of the metal hitting the floor was deafening. She winced. There was an unbearable weight on her, something coating much of her body and pushing her down. Mostly her arms, her face.

She looked at her hands.

They were completely crimson, soaked and dripping in a thick coat of blood.

She gagged again, but nothing came up.

Desperate not to look at herself, she surveyed the room.

They’d broken through her door through the hinges, shooting them off and forcing their way in, kicking in much of the half-rotted wood on that side.

All of her locks remained intact.

Something flew out of her then, something that may have been a laugh but was accompanied by a flood of tears. By sound, it continued to be a laugh. A roaring giggle that made her shoulders shake and stomach hurt. But she was crying - hard. Harder than she ever had before.

Then, she was on autopilot. Still laughing and sobbing over the state of her door, the state of her apartment, the state of herself, she somehow made her way to her phone.

She’d memorized Javier’s numbers in case she ever felt unsafe.

Even though her attackers were dead, she’d never felt more unsafe in her life.

Never had a ring sounded so long, so loud, so grating and awful.

One, two, three, four. Again and again.

Then nothing.

His cell phone was a bust.

So she tried his office.

One, two.

“Peña.” He sounded tired. Annoyed.

“Javi.” Her voice was so strange, so strained, so weak and foggy. “It’s me. Something happened. I - I don’t know what to do.”

“Something happened? What happened?” His voice was laced with concern and impatience.

“They came, and then I -”

And then I what?

Murdered three people? Shot and stabbed three men to death?

Covered my apartment in blood and bullets and brain matter?

“Holy fuck, Javi, I think I -”

“Who came?”

“Manuel. The friend who beat me. And other cartel members.”

“Are they still there?”

“…yes.”

In the technical sense, sure. But did a corpse count as the self?

“I’ll round up a team. I’m on my way.”

“No!” she yelled. “No, don’t, don’t bring anyone, you can’t. Just you. Just you, please, Javi, please don’t bring anyone else. They can’t see, no one can see, I can’t…Javi, I can’t. No one can see, no one can -”

“What happened?” Now he sounded concerned. Maybe even scared.

“Javi, please. Just you. Just come. I don’t know, I - I don’t know.”

She hung up then, unable to stand any more questions.

Suddenly exhausted, she leaned up against the wall and sunk down to the floor, latching her hands onto the hair on the sides of her head and curling herself up as small as she possibly could.

#narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #Javier Peña fic #fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal #feel less weird again #little lies

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mirkwoodshewolf · 5 years

Text

Time travel rescue pt. 6; 11th Doctor x teen reader ft. Queen

*Author’s note*

Okay guys Here I am with a new update and more good news, I’ve got an additional 2 chapters for you today, however the bad news is is that these will be the LAST two chapters for this series, so yes today this series will come to an end. I want to thank everyone in advance for giving this series a chance and for loving yet another brilliant crossover. So enjoy this chapter as well as the last two chapters I have in store for you all :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@ixchel-9275

@platawnic

@queendeakyy

@geek-and-proud

@simonedk

@kairosfreddie

@theroyalbrownbarbie

@bensrhapsody

_________________________________________________________

I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I kept thinking just who the siren scout could’ve been. There’s at least millions of people here in London, not to mention hundreds upon hundreds of volunteers, roadies and groupies that work alongside Queen. So anyone could be the siren scout, especially if they’re shapeshifters and can act like normal humans.

I was leaning against the balcony as I sighed heavily, the warm stream of fog leaving my mouth as I exhaled out in the snowy cold morning.

“You’ll catch your death if you stay out here.” I heard Roger say as I felt his arms wrap around my waist and rubbing my arms to keep warm.

“Just—got a lot on my mind right now.”

“Like what?”

“Oh nothing you need concern yourself about Roger. Just—futuristic stuff.” I didn’t want to cause a panic in him. He and the others don’t need to deal with this, because I was gonna find that scout and end it’s life before it can harm the boys of Queen.

“Are you sure?”

“Mm-hmm.” I hummed with a nod and the best fake smile I could muster. He looked at me skeptically before saying.

“Okay time traveler. But c’mon let’s head back inside I’m already freezing my nuts out here.” We then went back inside and as it was my turn to make the breakfast before rehearsal, I walked in to see Roger reading the paper although that’s not what surprised me.

What surprised me was the fact that he was wearing glasses. And not the shade prescriptions, I’m talking about real prescription glasses, round and all. He looked up at me alarmed.

“Now (y/n) I swear to you if you tell the guys about this I’ll—”

“Don’t worry Roger they won’t hear it from me. But if you want a girl’s honest opinion. I think they make you look really cute.” He lowered them and he said.

“Really?” I nodded.

“It just gives you that—domestic, softy side. And any girl you get that can see you like that will consider herself lucky to snagged herself a winner.”

“Well when you’re trying for a rock and roll image, it doesn’t do very well does it. Back in school kids got beat up for wearing glasses like this. I pleaded with my mum to get me contacts but she refused again and again.”

“If you want, they do make prescription shades you can get. In fact what I can share with you is that you do get those in a year or two.”

“Huh? I never knew they did that.” I nodded.

“Yep. And you still wear those shades even in my time. Just….something to think about. But just thought you’d like to hear that I think you look domestic in real glasses.”

“Thanks (n/n).” he said with a smile as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. After breakfast we left his room and carefully headed on over to the theater.

Turned out we were the second ones there next to Deacy and a couple of his roadies who were helping him set up his bass.

“Early start Deacy?” Roger called out.

“Sooner get ready just so that I can spare myself from you-know-who from his bitching.” Roger hummed in agreement. As we got up to the stage I asked him.

“How’s Veronica and Robert?”

“They seem to be better. I sent her back home just so that she could get away from all this and just be with Robert.” He told me.

“Good.”

“I—I want to personally thank you (y/n) for saving my son from that—whatever it was. I know it sounds weird but ever since he was born I just…..fell in love with him. And if anything ever happened to him, I’d never forgive myself. So thank you (y/n).” he wrapped his arms around me and embraced me.

Wow a hug from Deacy, never did I think that would happen in a million years. But man he does give pretty warm hugs. Unlike Roger’s who gave some warm bear hugs, Deacy’s was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. God was Veronica ever lucky to be hugged by this man every day for the past 44 years.

I embraced him back and leaned my head against his shoulder and said to him.

“You’re welcome Deacy.” It was in that moment Brian came in and he said.

“Am I interrupting something?” Deacy and I separated from each other and Deacy said.

“No. I was just thanking (y/n) for what she did last night in saving my son.”

“Well I was only part of the rescue team. Had the Doctor not came when he did I—don’t want to think what would’ve happened.” I recalled back when that siren had my knife in it’s hand and stood over Robert’s crib poised and ready to stab the sleeping baby.

“Any idea when Fred’s coming Bri?” asked Roger.

“I passed him on my way over here. Said he was having a smoke break back at the hotel then he was gonna be over here.”

“Any particular reason why he didn’t come here for his smoke break?” questioned Deacy.

“You know Fred he just does his thing. For now I guess we could just run through some riffs. Would you like to be our private audience (y/n)?”

“Hey I’m your girl.” I said. And with that the three Queen’s got set up and ready and they ran through some of their songs that didn’t really need Freddie.

Almost 2 hours later and Fred still hadn’t shown up yet. While the guys were getting a little antsy about Fred’s tardiness, I on the other hand was growing concerned. Surely he wouldn’t just blow off a performance like this.

“Does it really take 2 hours to smoke a cigarette?!” snapped Rog.

“Veronica giving birth was faster than Fred’s tardiness.” Deacy proclaimed.

“Okay nothing we needed to hear Deacy. But I agree where the hell is he? If Reid comes by and sees only the three of us, he’s gonna have a fit.”

“Alright boys let’s get this rehearsal under—where’s Freddie?” we looked up to see Prenter coming out from the backstage entrance and when he say that Freddie wasn’t around he grew annoyed.

“We don’t know Prenter.” Snapped Roger.

“Well find him. He’s the star of the show after all. And if he isn’t found in five minutes, I’ll see to it that Reid finds out about this personally!” his slimy Irish tongue rolled through his yellow teeth. He then gave me a nasty glare before turning back and going backstage.

“I’ll see if I can’t call the hotel. Maybe he went back into his room for whatever reason. Probably to try on other outfits for the show.” Brian said as he got up from the AMP he was sitting on and walked towards the back entrance where he knew some payphones were kept.

“He knew we had a rehearsal today. And Brian saw him just before he left. Where the fuck is he?!” Roger snapped. I placed a hand to his arm trying to calm him down, but on the inside I was freaking out. A few minutes later Brian came back and he said.

“The concierge said he saw Freddie leave shortly after his smoke break. Ordered a taxi cab and everything.”

“You don’t think he got into an accident do you?” Deacy asked worriedly.

“If he did, don’t you think we would’ve gotten a call from the ambulance or at least heard something by now?” Brian said. Oh please don’t let it be what I think it is.

“I mean they should.” At this point I couldn’t take it. I quickly raced out of the theater and raced towards the TARDIS.

“Doctor!” I proclaimed as I opened the doors to the TARDIS. He was already at the controls and I said. “Please tell me Freddie’s not…..”

“I’m running traces of him now, the TARDIS isn’t picking him up anywhere on Earth.”

“Oh god.” I collapsed to my knees. “Once. Just once, why does something bad have to happen? And why them!? What do they want?”

“Unfortunately I don’t know. But I think I did manage to find where these Rusalka’s are located.”

“Where?” I asked as I walked up and stood beside him.

“Beyond the reaches of space and time, a planet of desolation and death. Magna Graecia.”

“Magna Graecia.” I muttered. It was then the doors to the TARDIS opened and there stood Brian, Roger and Deacy.

“(Y/n) do you have any idea what’s going on?” Brian asked me. Now I was in a dilemma. Do I tell the guys they’re being hunted by an alien force? Or do I just tell them to not worry and that Freddie would turn up soon (after the Doctor and I get him back that is).

“I—”

“No lies (y/n). No more secrets, if Fred’s in any type of trouble we deserve to know. I know this has to do with last night right? Why you up so early this morning?” Roger said as he walked up to me and held my triceps with his hands.

Damn you Roger Taylor you know I can’t lie to those big blue eyes of yours! I lowered my head shamefully and said.

“I’m sorry guys. I’m so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Deacy.

“We—might have an idea on what happened to Freddie Mercury, but you four are gonna have to sit down for this.” The Doctor explained gravely. It was then the Doctor began to explain to them everything about the Rusalka zygons. I watched the guys’ expressions and they grew worried, scared or down right terrified. By the end, Deacy said.

“And I thought we had to just worry about the critics ratting us out as the worst bad in the world.”

“Or crazed groupies and fans.” Added Brian.

“What exactly do they want with us?” asked Roger.

“That we don’t know. I’m sorry boys, but it’s not safe for you three to be out in the open.”

“What about the others? All those workers? Our families?” I knew Deacy was mostly worried because one Rusalka tried to kill his son, whose to say another one won’t try to do the same.

“We understand your concern John but—”

“But nothing Doctor! Have you ever had children before? Do you even know what it’s like when you imagine the worst possible scenario, especially when it’s already happened before!?” At that statement the Doctor’s face became grim and his eyes became piercingly cold.

“I do. In fact I’ve lived with it for far too long. So yes I get that you’re worried for your son’s and wife’s safety. But the second you walk out and try to find them, the bigger the target they become, all because of you.”

You could just feel the tension in the air. The Doctor never really liked talking about his past that much, sometimes it makes me wonder if he just chooses to forget on purpose and then choose to remember. It was then Deacy folded and he said.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to them.”

“And nothing will John. I’ll have someone I know personally look after them and she’ll be damn well sure no harm will come to Veronica or Robert again.”

“So what do we do till then? I mean can you both defeat these Rusalkas?” asked Brian.

“Well the Doctor never likes dealing things with violence unlike me. And I can only do so much, plus we don’t know just who the scout is or what shape they’re taking.”

“Rusalka scouts are chosen by the Rusalka themselves and sometimes given extra strength to carry out the job, but they aren’t full Rusalkas. So at this point it’s like picking a poisoned needle in a haystack.”

“So that means picking the right scout would be one in 150,000.” Brian stated grimly.

“Afraid so.”

“So what can we do till then? I mean, if we’re pretty much walking targets do we just stay here and do nothing?” Roger said.

“For now yes.”

“And what about the concert?” asked Brian. “No one would believe us even if we told them.”

“Leave that to (y/n) and I. For now we’ll let you guys get what you need and get you three settled here in the TARDIS. (Y/n) will go along with you for protection, while I try to pinpoint Freddie’s exact location.” The guys nodded and soon the four of us left the TARDIS.

When we arrived at the theater, Brian asked me.

“Just what exactly do you got in mind?”

“Just wait and see.” We opened the doors and I came bursting in proclaimed. “OKAY EVERYONE CLEAR OUT OF HERE! CLEAR OUT! This building is under investigation! Everyone clear out!”

“Excuse me, who are you to tell us that?” John Reid, who finally decided to show himself for a change showed up.

“London FD. I was undercover to investigation this facility and it turns out there are high levels of Carbon Monoxide just radiating from this theater. Now then Mr. Reid, less you want all of these people to get even sicker than what you’ve probably put them through, I suggest you and everyone else clear out so that my superiors can do their job. Oh and I request that all of you don’t enter this building for at least three days.”

“We weren’t notified of this. And our CM detectors are working just fine.” He tried to reason. I sighed heavily and pulled out from a Carbon monoxide detector.

“Not according to my detector. Which is actually a newer model and way more advance than the dinosaurs this building has.” The mini monitor (which was actually just an old broken, earthquake sensor) started vamping up and making that high pitched noise. “So if you please Mr. Reid. Clear the theater before you have a lawsuit on your hands.” I knew he had been beaten because he had that defeated look in his eyes.

“Alright, the lot of you clear out!” soon all quickly filing out in a stampede were the volunteers and workers. They were all clamoring amongst each other, pushing and shoving to try and get out of the theater.

“Whoa. Is that really a uhh—”

“No Roger, it’s just an old earthquake sensor I got in 2354 in the undersea city of New, New, New, New, New Orleans.”

“And just what type of paper ID is that, I thought it was blank.” Brian said. I grinned and said.

“Gallifrey paper. The Doctor uses them all the time as ID’s and he had a spare one lying around so he gave it to me. I say what I want to be, and the paper shows the person I’m talking to an official license and registration. Legalized and everything.” I showed them my ID and said. “Chief detective (Y/n) (l/n) London PD.” And it was then I saw their eyes widen in awe as the license changed from what I had said earlier to a CD badge.

“Wow (y/n), you truly are full of surprises.” Roger said with a smile.

“The Doctor says it’s one of my best qualities. Okay now, I’m giving you guys one minute. Do you hear me one. Minute to grab only what you need and then meet me back here. I’ll stand guard of the back entrance to your dressing rooms, and if anyone tries to sneak back in. Then I think we may have our scout.” I said as we walked backstage and stood by the back entrance.

“You sure you can handle it?” Roger asked concerned.

“I’ll be fine Roger. I haven’t died yet, takes more than that to take down the Tigress. Now go, cause your one minute starts now.” The boys then raced down the gray corridors and I stood guard and timed my stopwatch.

*3rd Person POV*

Brian, Deacy and Roger arrived at their dressing room and they each grabbed something of importance to them. Roger grabbed the keys to his car, his drumsticks, and his fur coat. Brian grabbed his red special, a couple of books and a picture of his parents and of his girlfriend Chrissie. John grabbed only a picture of Veronica and Robert.

“Really Bri the red special?” Roger asked.

“I don’t know if those Rusalkas can track down scents, I don’t want my mum and dad getting involved. And what about you with those car keys of yours, you know we didn’t drive here.”

“Hey! I don’t want anyone swiping my keys alright? I worked too hard for my Alfa Romero.” Roger snapped.

“Okay, okay you two stop bickering like children and let’s get going. Our minute is almost up.” Deacy butted in. With no other words, they all raced down the hallways but Deacy stopped because he thought he heard someone call his name.

“John? John~.”

“Veronica?”

*My POV*

Seven, six, five, four, three, two. Oh thank god there they are and to think I…..wait where’s Deacy?

“Did we make it?” panted out Brian.

“Where’s Deacy?” I asked urgently ignoring his question. Roger and Brian looked behind them and saw that John was in fact missing.

“He was behind us a second ago.” Brian said.

“He even told us to hurry and get back here.” Roger added.

“Oh fuck.” I hissed I then ran off but I told the guys to get back to the TARDIS.

“But (y/n)……”

“NO BUTS ROGER TAYLOR! NOW GET YOUR ASS BACK TO THE TARDIS NOW OR ELSE!!!” I snarled at him as I briefly turned back and stared at him with my intimidating gaze that once sent shivers up even grown gang member’s spine.

Hearing my voice sounding so threatening definitely took him by surprise as his eyes widened and he just stared at me fearfully while I turned back around and raced down the corridor.

I came to their dressing room and I saw there on the floor the Deacon family picture that John kept in his wallet.

“No Deacy.” I took the picture and placed it in my pocket and raced down the hallway jointed to the dressing room. “Deacy! Deacy where are you!? John Deacon you better respond back to me!” As it got darker and darker I had no choice but to take my phone out and turn on the flashlight. Soon right in front of my just a few feet away was a ladder probably leading up to the catwalk.

I raced over and was forced to put my phone in my pocket and climb up the stairs almost blind. As I climbed up slowly and carefully, it only got darker and darker till it was just pitch black. Finally after what felt like an eternity of climbing, I finally reached the top. But it turns out that I was actually on the roof.

“Oh shit.” I took out my phone and shined it through the long catwalk path that the roof thankfully had. I slowly walked along until finally my light caught sight of a familiar brown boot and bell-bottom jeans. I raised my light higher and there he was. Lying on his back was Deacy. “Deacy!”

I raced over to him and pressed my fingers to his neck and I could still feel a pulse. I sighed with relief but there was something else I noticed. He wasn’t really unconscious cause his eyes were still open, in fact he—had this love-like dazed look across his face.

“Deacy. Deacy can you hear me? C’mon snap out of it bud.” I tried to shake him, slap his cheek lightly but nothing was working.

Then just like last night, I began to get that feeling again. Like something was watching me. But what also had me feeling on edge was that I could smell some sort of aroma. It was sweet like nectar but—strangely familiar.

It wasn’t until I looked up to see literally leaning against the railing of the roof, Veronica. However when my light shined right on her eyes, they transitioned to pure black and her teeth grew into canines.

“Oh f—” she then lunged right at me. I grabbed John’s feet and dragged him away but the Veronica double ganger grabbed ahold of Deacy’s arms and began pulling. The two of us having a tug of war with the bass player, until the bitch decided to play dirt and literally leap right towards me.

Now you would think I would just go backwards right and we’d just stay on the catwalk, well you’re wrong. Cause I thought I could manage to toss the Rusalka that was wearing Veronica’s body as it’s disguise off the roof, however she had a tight grip on my shoulders that I ended up falling down the roof with her. E might have possibly fallen 10-15 feet from the roof till we both ended up tangled in some old curtains that were fortunately underneath us and bundled up together to stop us from falling further down towards the ground.

The two of us struggling within the curtains with me trying to get out and the Rusalka trying to hunt me down and kill me. Her claws went straight through the curtains like scissors to paper. Her haunting snarls and growls as she tried to pin me down and slaughter me, all while still wearing Veronica’s face.

With a final cut of the curtains, they began to rip underneath me and strangely by a string of continuous luck, I saw the catwalk just within my reach. Using the momentum in my free falling, I managed to land on the catwalk with a loud thud. I groaned in pain and tried to pull myself up, but my troubles were hardly over as the Veronica double-ganger landed just by my feet and tried to lunge for a kill strike.

Using my feet and holding her in a choke hold so she couldn’t get any closer, I managed to hold her off but she managed to scratch my cheek up real good with a single swipe of her claws.

“(Y/N)!” I gasped and that’s when the Rusalka also turned and eyed the left lustfully. For that voice that called out to me was none other than Roger Taylor. Forgetting about me, the Rusalka got off of me and went to jump over the catwalk, but I tackled her and pinned her down.

“ROGER GET OUT OF HERE!” I cried out as I wrapped my arms around the Rusalka’s ribs trying to squeeze them as hard as I could and wrap my legs around hers so she couldn’t get up. “GET OUT!!! GO NOW!!” But the Rusalka managed to wriggle her way out and give me another scratch across the face sending me backwards allowing her to finally jump right off the catwalk.

No I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Why did Roger have to be so stubborn, why couldn’t he and Brian have just left and gone to the TARDIS like I told them to. I pulled myself up and looked down only to see the Rusalka pacing around sniffing the air, there was no sign of Roger or Brian anywhere. Then why did it sound like he was close, unless—suddenly the Rusalka jumped right back up towards the catwalk and with Veronica’s appearance she appeared to be a crazed, rabid animal.

The leopard-tiger like roars emitting definitely sent a sense of fear within my body. I looked behind me and I saw a genie lift, I crawled towards it before finally finding my footing and rushed over and got onto the genie and quickly pressed the down button as well as ranked up the speed as high as it could go just so I could avoid getting attacked again.

The Veronica look alike soon jumped after me but suddenly a weight bag hit her gut sending her upwards and as soon as she reached the top and I hit the bottom, she was now tangled up in the ropes and pulleys.

“What were you doing napping?” Roger teased as he opened the gate and helped me stand up.

“How did…..”

“I was actually up in the technicians wing and spoke into the speaker microphone.”

“Then what was the weight bag and the…..”

“Galileo’s theory of gravity and weight. By tying that 30lbs weight back it had a greater acceleration than a lighter bag would. So I tied one end of the rope with the weight bag that was right by this genie and cut the last strand of rope just as the Rusalka would leap after you.” Brian explained as he and Roger helped me stand up.

“Did you find him?”

“He’s on the roof. We can get to him now that bitch face is tied up. Come on I need your help.” We raced to the back room. Just as I turned down the path, I was suddenly blindsided and all I saw was black.

And the faint voices of Brian and Roger calling out for me before nothing but silence rang out.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)! C’mon my tigress come on.” When I opened my eyes, there hovering over me was the Doctor.

“Doctor? Wha….what happened?”

“I came in to find you passed out along the corridor.”

“Where’s Roger and Brian? Did they get Deacy?” he looked at me sadly and didn’t respond. I sat up and I demanded. “Doctor? How long was I out?” he didn’t respond right away I began to grow worried.

“You guys have been gone for an hour. And—I’m sorry (y/n) but they’re gone.” What?

“No. No. No! No! No! NOOOO!!!!” I sobbed as I thrashed around. Why didn’t I pay more attention? How could I be so stupid you damn stupid bitch! Now because of you, they’re dead. The greatest band in all of Rock history is dead because you were careless you damn bitch!

I felt the Doctor wrap his arms around me trying to get me to stop thrashing. Pointless words of comfort and strokes of my hair meant nothing, all I could hear was my heart breaking and the last thing I heard of Queen were the sounds of them crying out my name.

After a while I just went numb and that’s when the Doctor said.

“It wasn’t your fault (y/n).”

“It’s always my fault. Everywhere I go I bring danger along with me. Some friends of mine from the gang, my nana, my parents, and now Queen. Why am I so destructive?” I numbly said.

“(Y/n)……”

“Don’t even try it Doctor.” I told him. “You’ve known all along. I’m reckless, as you’ve always said. And by being reckless I would be careless. And that’s exactly what’s happened.” He sighed heavily and said.

“Well then this might help you. I’ve found out where Freddie was taken, and just who the scout was.” I quickly looked up at him and demanded as I gripped the sides of his jacket.

“Who was it!?”

“I ran some DNA strands of hair I found in one of the volunteers dressing rooms and it came back positive with some Rusalka zygon DNA. But you’re not gonna like who it is.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it Doctor!”

“The DNA belonged to Paul Prenter.” At that point I saw nothing but red. I stormed out of the theater and out into the cold London weather and as the Doctor trailed behind me calling out my name warningly.

“Where did he take them?”

“(Y/n) you’re not thinking straight—”

“WHERE DI HE TAKE THEM!?” I roared as I turned to face the Doctor. He looked at me worriedly and he said.

“I need to know you’re not going to do something stupid. If you really want to save those boys, you’ve got to think clearly and have a plan.”

“I’ve got a plan. Attack and skin Prenter alive. Now tell me where he took them.” The Doctor was silent before he finally said.

“Their home planet.”

“Manga Graecia.” I muttered lowly with a slight nod of my head. I turned back around and raced off towards the TARDIS.

“No! (Y/n) wait remember what I said!”

“The more time we waste here, the more time they have to be tortured and killed by those psychotic bitches! And I for one am not going to lie down while those boys endure that!”

“I get that you want to save them, but what good will it do if you just go in as you normally do knives or guns ablazing! This is why I don’t choose violence! Because I can’t stand by and watch as you get yourself killed!” I reached out and touched the doors and paused there for a moment taking in what the Doctor had just said.

I lowered my head and I said.

“Then what do you suggest then?”

“We can come up with a plan together, and we’ll save them together. You’ve done so much on your own already, and you bear the weight of your failures so much. Time for someone to finally help you. You’re not the only one who loves those boys (y/n).” he placed his hands on my shoulders and gently rubbed them.

“Okay.” I sighed.

“That’s my girl.” He then got in front of me and entered the TARDIS first. “Right now channeling the coordinates to Magna Graecia we can move right on as soon as we formulate a plan.” As the Doctor proceeded to ramble on, I silently picked up a 5/8th’s wrench and with the right amount of force to not kill him, I knocked him out over the head.

“I’m sorry Doctor, but I can’t wait another second.” I dropped the wrench and proceeded to drag him out of the TARDIS. I set him down on a nearby bench and went back to the TARDIS. I activated her up and pressed the enter button for the coordinates to be punched in and I pulled the lever and soon she began to breathe that famed wheezing sound. “Hang on guys, I’m on my way.”

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theateared · 4 years

Text

It Doesn’t Matter. ❜

Summary: No more.

Warnings/Author’s notes: Mentions of sexual abuse, mentions of forced conception. All sensitive topics are treated with sensitivity and are cast in a wholly negative light. This isn’t a kink-fic, nor a self-indulgent NSFW drabble like when I write Eddie/Grace content, this is important backstory for Grace, hence why I’ve written it and not shied away from certain details. Thanks.

It rarely ever stopped.

When one lye was finished, another took their place, and the cycle continued. She’d lost feeling in her body several days ago, her stare blank and empty as it remained glued to the sky. At night, she would stare at the stars and wish with all of her might to join them, to cut ties with her empty vessel and float aimlessly along the Astral Plane. Not even laying eggs made her feel much anymore - and even though her heat cycle had finished a couple of weeks ago, making her incapable of conceiving children any longer, it wasn’t stopping them from using her.

That night was strange.

After the woman atop her had moved away, spitting on her face to finish, nobody else came. Gradually, Grace’s ears perked up, listening for the approaching footsteps, the dread in her stomach thick and heavy.

Someone’s coming. They always are.

For the first time in weeks, Grace brought her legs together, closing them. She was a small thing in her true form. Her normally sleek black coat was ruffled and matted by her legs, a myriad of fluids soaking the fur until it had turned borderline solid. Only when she was certain that nobody was coming did she dare to roll onto her front, the grass sounding all too loud to her alert ears. Tired eyes fixed on the trees in front of her.

I wish I could run into them. I wish I could get up and not look back.

Her heart stopped as she heard somebody coming towards her, body tense and frightened. However, they walked past without even looking at her. I wonder where they’re going. I wonder what order they’ve been given. I’d kill to receive an order at this point - I’d do more than kill.

The lye’s head slowly turned to the side to regard her fallen companions. Those that had met a similar fate to her had either turned into unresponsive drones, died at the hands of those that abused them, or worse, turned into whores in heat. That was the worst, Grace would argue. Previously well put together women begging for strangers to defile them-- to make her watch as they were surrounded and overpowered. Though she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t personal, that these poor women had been broken, just like her, she couldn’t help but feel mortified by their taunts.

Don’t act like you don’t love it, Grace! This is what we’re made for!

She turned away, unable to look any longer. As much as she hated to admit it, her respect for these lyes was gone. It wasn’t their fault. They had simply snapped under the circumstances in a different way, but she still couldn’t find it in her to forgive them for the horrible things that they had said to her-- for the depraved things they had begged their abusers to do.

I want to run.

The forest was stared at out of the corner of her eye, then wholly. Though she hadn’t moved from her position on the ground, it seemed much closer than before-- as if her willpower had tied a string around the earth and tugged it closer to her.

Everything aches. I don’t know if I can move. I haven’t moved properly in weeks. I’ve had children recently, so I’m weaker.

Dear Raku, please have my children survive this. Please God, take care of them.

“Think she’s almost done.”

The voice caught her attention, ear subtly flicking in its direction. As she honed in on the conversation, she realised that Nyx ( her current Alpha, by technicality - Grace had denounced her involvement with the creed privately several weeks ago but had not been in a position to do so officially ) and one of her hunters were talking.

“Doesn’t even scream anymore. She’s like a corpse. Best to kill her.”

“Don’t be so quick, Flit!” Her voice makes me sick. “She’s still of use. She’s still alive, so she can still be bred.”

“But she can’t lay more eggs until the next heat cycle. What do we do with her until then?”

Her Alpha laughed. It was a shrill noise, as if she was about to explode from the hilarity of it all. “Whatever we like! You’re thinking of her as a lye, not as a possession. That’s a dangerous thing to do.”

Grace zoned out then, not content to listen to them any more. She felt hurt and worthless, but most of all, she felt angry. It started as an ember in her stomach; a flicker of annoyance in the hollow dark, though as time went on, it became a wildfire. In her mind’s eye, it tore down trees and burned this sorry creed alive. It melted her Alpha’s flesh from her bones and buried her beneath a poetic heap of ash. It charged her aching limbs, making her slowly rise from the ground on shaking legs, the movement discreet so as not to draw attention to herself.

How could you do this to someone? How dare you do this to someone?

Her battered body protested against her weight, joints cracking, vision bleary and unfocused as she stared into the hole through the trees. You’re not a toy, Grace. You’re not a toy. Are you going to let these lyes take your life? Are you going to let this woman reduce you to nothing? She isn’t your Alpha, not really. An Alpha wouldn’t hurt you like this.

Then why have both of my Alphas been shitty people?

You have to take care of yourself, Grace. No. More.

She didn’t even think about it when she tore off. Her desperate movement alerted both her Alpha and Flit, their heads snapping in her direction. Traitor. Don’t fucking look at me.

“OI!” It was all she heard as she darted into the trees. She was slow to start-- or at least, what she would consider slow. Her main skill was her speed and agility, and that had been so no matter where she had been. In both of her creeds, she had always wound up a scout as opposed to anything else. Her footwork was clean, beautiful, coveted even; so much so that it could put world-famous ballet dancers to shame. Everybody was replaceable, or so the idiom went, but she would bet a bitter cold’s worth of food that she could outfox most.

It didn’t take long for sets of feet to register in her ears.

They’re chasing me. And if they catch me, I’m dead.

She forced her legs to move quicker, for her brain to wake up. It had been a long time since she had moved at all, nevermind run for her life, and it was wearing her thin. The only thing keeping her going was knowing that, if she didn’t, she’d wind up there again. It would go back to how it was, she’d be nothing more than a sex doll - and that was if they didn’t kill her for attempting to run away. The fact that being reduced to a toy again was her best outcome just made her run faster.

Her ears gradually became attuned to her surroundings, senses guiding her through the dark. As she became accustomed to movement again, her footwork became more elaborate. I have to throw them off. I can’t run in a straight line.

She weaved through trees and ran through bushes, curling herself up trunks and flitting through branches as if she had wings and not legs. She barely leapt aside as a hunter descended from above, sending him barrelling into a tree instead. He hit it so hard that he didn’t get up again, lying motionless at its base, and Grace couldn’t help but laugh as she tore through the dark. It was a crazed noise, one full of fear and fury, and it echoed around them as they ran.

Shut up. It’s keeping you on their radar.

“You’re DEAD, bitch! FUCKING DEAD!”

Furiously, she forced herself to pick up speed, charging straight into a thick fog. It was a risky move, though she heard the briefest of hesitation before they continued to pursue her. They didn’t want to go in there. They didn’t want to compromise their sight even further.

At some point, she stopped thinking. Her brain switched into autopilot, carrying her seamlessly through landmarks and obstacles alike. With her ears and nose fully focused on where she was going, it wasn’t too hard to manoeuvre, even in spite of the dark. With the adrenaline coursing through her, each shot like a tsunami more powerful than the last, her tired body fell into the back of her mind.

I refuse to fall back into your lap. I won’t ever open my legs for you again. You’ve already taken my children from me, and you’ve already stolen my honour - I will not let you keep it. I’ll keep on running forever if it means you’ll never touch me again.

She prepped herself to jump over a large ravine, body thin and small as she cleared the ten-foot-gap. As she landed, she heard another lye jump after her. Quickly, Grace turned, hacking up venom and spitting it into his face. It landed straight in his eye, and it sent his body off-kilter. What would have been a clean landing turned into an aimless plummet as he missed the edge of the cliff, tumbling into the gap below. If he hit the bottom, she didn’t stick around to hear it, her pace picked up immediately.

I’m so tired… I need to rest… I need to stop...

But she couldn’t stop. She ran until she was sure she’d turned in a circle; until the undergrowth she was hurtling through looked very much the same as it had half an hour ago; until the roar of water entered her ears and drowned out the sound of footfalls.

“Is she crazy?! She’s headed for No-Man’s Bluff!”

“Don’t stop! Either she runs into the woodland again or she jumps to her death.”

She ran towards the light of the moon, tiny form illuminated as she emerged from the trees. Ahead of her was a curious sight: a formation of rocky cliffs and narrow streams, all arranged in some sort of circular foundation. In the middle, a single jagged cliff jutted up and outwards, overlooking an eerie pit of nothing. It was hard to describe just how cavernous the darkness was. If there was a bottom to the gaping chasm, it wasn’t apparent.

Grace wasted no time, darting across uneven terrain with little difficulty, weaving between rocks and jumping over small rivers. Even moving as quickly as she was, she noticed that some of the gaps weren’t full of water; instead, a small amount laid along the bottom, spilling into other, much smaller crannies.

If I could somehow just slip inside of one and wait…

The footsteps behind her were getting slower. The unpleasant landscape made it difficult to place their feet without tripping, stumbling into rivers and slipping along smooth rock. The water had polished it over time; corroded it steadily until it was a composition quite reminiscent of ice.

“She’s getting away…!”

Nyx growled to herself, watching helplessly as Grace vanished behind a tall pillar of rock.

“She’s headed into the forest on the other side. Once we clear this bluff, it’ll be fine.” After a moment, she levelled Flit with a hard look, one of utmost sobriety. “You’d best catch her. Or you’re in trouble.” You didn’t get your name for nothing. Don’t you dare disappoint me now.

Grace paused for a moment, scanning her surroundings quickly. The roar of water so close to her drowned everything out, made it easier to think. I have to be quick, but I have some time. Hastily, she followed a crack in the ground, internally rejoicing as it widened. The further she walked, the further it opened, and she found a spot where she was able to squeeze herself through. Her body wriggled and writhed, getting wet on the way down, though eventually she was inside of the crevice. She squirmed in an effort to turn around, attempting to cover as much of herself in water as possible.

I want my scent masked as much as it can be. It’ll be bad if they find me down here. There’s nowhere for me to run. I can barely move.

When she was sure she’d done all she could, she waited with bated breath. She could only pray that they would assume she had darted into the forest. Why would she stay there anyway? As far as they were concerned, this was a stepping stone from point A to point B; a means of getting to a place much more eligible to hide in.

I can’t keep running. I’m exhausted. If I picked running into the forest, it wouldn’t have been long until my body gave up on me. I’m not in a good condition. Adrenaline can only do so much.

The stress of it all began to weigh on her. How did my life wind up like this? I know what I thought a few times while this was happening to me: that I wouldn’t mind dying if it meant escaping it… but I don’t want to die. I want to live. Hot tears gathered in her blackened eyes, and a paw went up to cover her mouth, caging the sobs inside. Not yet. I’ll die if they hear me.

She barely held back a gasp as Nyx passed over the crack she was lodged inside. Her ears strained to hear over the sound of water, only a few words audible.

… trail’s gone cold… didn’t see her… get to it… gone ahead…

She waited for what felt like years, staring blankly ahead of her until the sky began to change, until the sun began to rise, until the birdsong became audible above the rippling stream. Do I dare move? What if they’ve waited for me? What if they circle back and I wind up running straight into them?

But she knew that she couldn’t stay there

After a few minutes, Grace forced herself out of the hole, wriggling much like a worm through the narrow space until she was able to claw herself out. When she emerged, it was with a grunt of exhaustion, wet body collapsing forward onto the rock beneath her as her mind reeled.

Oh God, oh God, oh God…

She didn’t get to choose whether the tears in her eyes welled up or not. They just did. Before she could even think to smother it, she was wailing into the silence, her cries filling the pit that sat mere metres away from her as she emptied her sorrows into the void space. Part of her felt uncontrollable; like she could get up and hurl herself headfirst into the darkness below, and she wouldn’t mind if she never reached the bottom. Thankfully ( or perhaps un-thankfully, depending on who was asked ), her rational side outweighed the primal desire to send herself plummeting to her death.

If I do that, that means my survival was for nothing. Why run from death only to kill myself?

Angrily, she dragged a paw across her face, ridding her eyes of tears. I won’t cry. I won’t cry ever again. I already did so much of that in that creed, and now I’m free. Without thinking, her claws sank into the place that Nyx had signed her, a congregation of pin-pricks by her neck, scraping over the teeth marks with vitriol. A stuttered gasp left her, one full of both pain and pride, blood mixing with the water that made her fur heavy.

It hurts… it hurts so bad but it hurts so good too. I don’t belong to you anymore. Even if I can never get rid of your mark on my own entirely, I can keep scratching at it until my self-made wounds overwrite your signature. I’ll craft my own meaning. It doesn’t matter. I don’t need an Alpha.

I don’t need an Alpha.

I DON’T N E E D AN ALPHA.

She headed east that foggy November morning, even though she’d never headed east in her life.

#🞮 — that vixen﹐she's a master of disguise! ❜ ( grace. )#☆ — i never promised you your dream boy. ❜ ( main. )#☆ — i'm just here to destroy. ❜ ( ic. )#drabble *#/ oof fuck #god i hate what happened to her #but i ultimately decided on it because it gave me an opportunity to a) have a relationship with edgar be very important #and b) to delve into the SHITTY side of alphas. because. just because they're not common doesn't mean they don't exist #grace has had SHIT luck with alphas. until edgar

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sharpdressedbman · 5 years

Text

A Tribute to Chester: Life, Death, Rebirth, and How He Lives on in Memory

How do you properly memorialize one of your childhood idols? Are you supposed to scream, cry, and gnash your teeth? Or do you put on noise-canceling headphones and block out the ambient noise of the outside world for a while? All of these are difficult questions to answer. I guess that’s why they’re rhetorical. It’s hard to believe that it’s been almost two years since Chester Bennington passed. So in a way, this simple little essay is how I can honor him. It feels nice to write something that isn’t fiction or related to a blog for a change[1]. Let’s see how it goes.

Part Zero: Notes from the Underground

I must confess that I was never a member of the official fan club, the LP Underground. I suppose in retrospect that’s how I could have proven I was a legit fan despite never seeing them live in concert except via live stream. But even then, that was a rare occasion. I do remember a t-shirt I got from Hot Topic when I was 12 or so – it had the faces of all of the guys gathered around the classic script font of the band’s logo.

I don’t remember what happened to it. The last time I remember wearing it was in August 2014. I supposed by then I had outgrown it. But still, buying whatever merch I could and getting all of the CDs and eagerly anticipating the next music video all had to count for something. I knew the names of all the guys, even Mark Wakefield, who was never an official member, and Phoenix Orion (Dave Farrell?), who left before Hybrid Theory but was back in time for Reanimation – more on that later.

But I digress. Let’s get on with the real meat of why we’re here. In terms of structure, I thought it would make the most sense to go album by album, discuss some memories I have associated with each, and attempt to unpack why they remain so important to me even as time has marched on since then. Growing up with the band, as I’m sure many of you did, you might feel a similar connection that you never fully grasped until the night of the tribute show in December 2017.

Part One: Hybrid Theory

#Forfeit the game/Before somebody else/takes you out of the frame and puts your name to shame/Cover up your face, you can’t run the race/the pace is too fast, you just won’t last. [HT Track 4: “Points of Authority”]

Although Hybrid Theory came out in October 2000, I think the first time I heard it was for another month or two after it came out. It’s still one of the most vivid memories I can still recall, the first time “Papercut” blared out of a cd player. I was sitting in the basement at my buddy Andre’s house and we were playing Perfect Dark with our mutual friend Alberto. It was honestly the perfect soundtrack for the game. Here’s what I said back then: “Dude, who is this? This is awesome!”

“It’s Linkin Park.”

Even then I thought the name was cool, the way that they intentional misspelled Lincoln – the rule of cool and all that. Elementary school hadn’t even ended yet, but it was still part of my formative years, musically speaking. Before then, I had never discovered any music on my own – my friends had always shown me. My parents didn’t raise me to enjoy music – I hated classical and most of the “standards” went over my head. My parents were still throwing karaoke parties. My old neighbor John showed me James Brown. That’s how I latched onto my first favorite song of all time “I Feel Good”. Then came Third Eye Blind, another early love of mine. But that’s a story for another time, as is my recollections of Limp Bizkit. This tale is about LP.

I wouldn’t realize it at the time, but Hybrid Theory would continue to be one of the most important albums to be me as I left elementary school and hit middle school. The days of Perfect Dark and WCW/nWo Revenge began to fade[2] as Diablo II and Starcraft emerged. The sound of Chester’s howls and Mike’s swagger along with the rest of the bands driving instrumentals provided a backdrop like you wouldn’t believe. “In the End” stood out in particular, although as middle school came to an end, it became clear that those reasons weren’t ones I wish to discuss here, now. Ask me again another time. It was at the end of middle school (hell, even before) that I confronted the notion of how deeply uncool I was, and probably tangled with imposter syndrome, anxiety, and depression long before I knew what any of those terms meant.

I already knew I was an introvert who was much more inclined to stay inside playing video games, reading, or writing instead of going outside to play street hockey or anything like that. That shouldn’t have meant that I was an easy target for bullying, but hey, it was the 90s and then the early 2000s, so what could you do? LP helped me cope, even if I couldn’t always express my anger in responsible ways.

I think here is a good place to stop and point something out: mental illness has been something that has been immensely important to me – it affects me and I know it damn sure affects my wife and mother in law. I went through a very dark time in my life roughly five years ago that LP also helped me pull out of – but I’ll get to explaining that more in-depth later on. Right now we’re still in the HT era; I just wanted to talk a little bit more about my motivations for writing this piece.[3]

Part Two: Reanimation

#Keep that in mind/ I designed this rhyme/ when I was obsessed with time. [RA Track 3: “Enth E Nd]

Full disclosure: when I first heard Reanimation, I thought it had its moments. But it wasn’t something I could listen to end-to-end and love every single song. Heck, even HT wasn’t like that, since some of the songs had to grow on me. The video with the robots and aliens having a war while the disembodied robot heads of the band sing the remixed version of “Points of Authority” by Jay Gordon of Orgy was definitely awesome, but I don’t know, I had mixed feelings about the album that took years for it to resolve into me think of it as one of the LP’s early era classics that would culminate with Meteora and Live in Texas.

I have a very distinct memory of popping this cd into the car’s stereo while we were out in…Houston? Taiwan? The details are blurry now because it’s been too long. Seventeen years was a long time ago, and 2002 me was simpler, less refined, and yes, much dumber and naïve. On an emotional level, “p5hng me Aw*y” stood out, and even though it wasn’t actually a true Linkin Park song, “It’s Goin’ Down” stood out from this time period too.

Part Three: Meteora

#I’ll never fight again, and this is how it ends…I don’t know what’s worth fighting, or why I have to scream, but now I have some clarity to show you what I mean… [MA Track 9: “Breaking the Habit”]

Meteora is one of those albums I more clearly associate with Diablo II and Starcraft more than any other games. Just something about the overall darkness and broodiness of the album really fit both of those games. Also, this essay project is making me want to go back in time. Not really from a nostalgia standpoint – okay yeah I guess from a nostalgia standpoint. But it was during this era that I really started to enjoy their music videos. Believe it or not, for the longest time, not all of the songs on the album were rated five stars. I used to be stingier with that rating that I am now. It took a while for some of the songs to grow on me, but “Somewhere I Belong”, “Faint”, “Easier to Run”, “Breaking the Habit”. “Nobody’s Listening”, and “Numb” were instant standouts. I’m still not sure what happened to my original copy of this album. The last I checked, I had a burned copy, but not the real deal.

Part Four: Live in Texas

#When I look into your eyes there’s nothing there to see/nothing but my own mistakes staring back at me# [LIT Track 8: P5hng Me A*wy – Live]

Man, I remember this too. It must have come out six months or so after Meteora did, and grabbing it from Kmart was one of my best days. I think it was also the first LP album to have the dreaded Parental Advisory sticker on it, and this is probably the album I blame most for me disliking the edited versions of songs. Sometimes edits can be clever, but when they’re just bleeps or certain naughty words are blanked out, then it gets annoying. Then again, I probably wasn’t a stranger to this concept thanks to early exposure to Third Eye Blind and Limp Bizkit, as I mentioned before. Was this the first time I heard “live” performances of LP? I think it was, and it probably stoked my eagerness to see them live in concert. Alas, it was never to be.

Part Five: Collision Course

#Yeah/Thank you, thank you, thank you, you’re far too kind# [CC Track 4: “Numb / Encore”]

It’s fitting that as I pick this up on (7/21/19) it’s the day after the 2 year anniversary. I meant to have this finished by the 20th, but it just didn’t happen. Plus “Numb/Encore” was one of the first songs that started up on this go-through of the playlist. If you’re interested in listening to it, I can direct you to my Spotify profile! Numb is one of those songs that have taken on new meaning since his death, but out of all the collaborations on this mashup album, I think it’s the one that works the best sonically and thematically, especially with the juxtaposition between angst and bravado[4].

Part Six: Fort Minor & The Rising Tied

#So sick, if he’s gonna think/That the good lord would come take him/I’m shaking him, “Wake up, you son of a bitch!”# [TRT Track 14: “Red to Black”]

It was four years between the era of Meteora and Minutes to Midnight. In between that time, there was a sea change. First there was the mashup with Jay-Z, and then this came along in November 2005. I remember being more stoked for it than probably any other music that I discovered that year – and this was when Fall Out Boy, 50 Cent, and Coheed and Cambria dawned on me, among others. For those who don’t know, Fort Minor is/was Mike’s side project. He’s since done other solo stuff under his own name but between then and now he would bust out verses from The Rising Tied and incorporate them into existing songs. I always thought that Red to Black was the most LP-sounding song on the entire album and that for the longest time I thought Chester used Jonah Matranga as an alias and it wasn’t a separate person.

Part Seven: Minutes to Midnight

#In this farewell/There’s no blood, there’s no alibi/Cause I’ve drawn regret/From the truth of a thousand lies/So let mercy come and wash away# [M2M Track 6: “What I’ve Done”]

In the interest of time, these entries are probably going to get shorter and shorter. At this point, I just want to get the damn thing over with. “What I’ve Done”, the lead single was the one that struck me the most at first; I remember LP making a big deal about how they wanted to start a new sound after leaving their classic era behind. The music video was awesome, and I think LP was one of the best choices for the Transformers movies. I always thought that “What I’ve Done” would make a great wrestling song. Not necessarily as an entrance theme, but as a hype video for a PPV or a feud or something like that. EWR back in the day helped reinforce that belief though I can’t exactly remember what I associated it with – anyway, that’s neither here nor there. The day that I got this album was the same day the shooting at Virginia Tech happened. Finding out that the shooter was a mentally ill Asian dude spooked me. In today’s parlance, I was shook.[5] That’s something that has always stuck out even though it’s something I’ve not been fond of discussing, for obvious reasons. Still, for our purposes here, it is for once, actually relevant.

Part Eight: Dead by Sunrise and Out of Ashes

#Don’t want to lose my innocence/Don’t want the world second-guessing my heart/Won’t let your lies take a piece of my soul/Don’t want to take your medicine# [OOA Track 2: “Crawl Back In”]

The melodies that emerged on Minutes to Midnight, especially when it was Chester’s turn to take the mic, evolved. They turned into another platform for his music: the side-project Dead by Sunrise and their only album, so far as I know: Out of Ashes. I lump this album in with Welcome to the Masquerade by Thousand Foot Krutch and Dear Agony by Breaking Benjamin. All three emerged during my sophomore year of college[6], which was another difficult year for me. I think that is when I had the most trouble sleeping, either by choice or for other reasons. Out of everything LP-related, I think I have given this the least amount of attention. It’s probably time for that to change, ten years later.

Part Nine: A Thousand Suns

#Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds/I suppose we all thought that, one another# [ATA Track 2: “The Radiance”]

If Minutes to Midnight was an attempt to step out of the shadow of Hybrid Theory, then A Thousand Suns represented an aural breakaway. It was vastly different, integrating more spoken word and turning up their signature sound to 12. I can’t remember exactly if it was in 2009 or 2010 that I was meant to go see LP as they rolled into DC. Ultimately, I couldn’t go because of a lack of transport. It all ended up moot anyway because that was the show that got canceled because of Chester being sick. Trying to dig up that post on Facebook is probably beyond me now because it’s a day late. Maybe someday I’ll be able to find it again because those days were golden (at least my pathetic little eulogy for him that I wrote two years ago.)

Part Ten: Living Things

#Fly me up on a silver wing/Past the black where the sirens sing/Warm me up in a nova’s glow/And drop me down to the dream below# [LT Track 6: “Castle of Glass”]

So if LP had been striving to break away from the sound that made them famous, it was at this point where they were “Nah bro” and went full bore back around into an ouroboros[7] of awesome. While the vast majority of A Thousand Suns[8] had to grow on me over the intervening years, Living Things grabbed me by the throat and never let go. It followed the Hybrid Theory blueprint to a T. After all this time, “Castle of Glass” still stands out as my favorite from the album, but as is often the case, it’s hard to pick favorites.

Part Eleven: Recharged

#When I was young, they told me, they said/Make your bed, you lie in that bed/A king can only reign ‘til instead/There comes that day it’s off with his head# [RC Track 1: “A Light That Never Comes”]

The less said about this, the better. It had its moments, especially “A Light That Never Comes” which showed me the potential of Steve Aoki. But the memory that stands out most clearly about the day I got this album was getting a case of Hell or High Watermelon beer. I think since I got it from Record and Tape Traders, it was the day I found the TARDIS socks for Ally and sent them to her later that week. As you probably gathered from the cluster of footnotes, this was deemed my least favorite “official” LP album, and that ranking has held up in the last six years. It does to Living Things what Reanimation did to Hybrid Theory, but for whatever reason, I can’t bring myself to enjoy it more.

Part Twelve: The Hunting Party

#Cause you don’t know what you’ve got/it’s your battle to be fought/until it’s gone# [THP Track 7: “Until It’s Gone]

Ah, here we go. LP seems to follow patterns in the creation of their albums. Cause roughly a year after Recharged, there came The Hunting Party. After A Thousand Suns came and went, it seemed like LP was on a creative lull. But then we got LT, Recharged, and THP in three straight years. This came out in 2014, and it’s hard to believe that five years have passed already. To this day, I still think that my favorite part was all of the guest appearances on their album, especially from collaborators they hadn’t featured before then, like Daron Malakian and Tom Morello.

Part Thirteen: Welcome

#First time I did it, yeah I’ll admit it/I kinda hit it and quit it and left y’all hanging# [“Welcome”]

In all honesty, this should be a footnote for The Rising Tied. It came out 10 years later, as a way for Mike to tip a wink and a nod at all his fans that were still waiting for a full-fledged sequel. Fate had other plans, though. I can still remember helping to clean Tidewater while this song blared through my headphones. This probably became one of my most played songs of 2015.

Part Fourteen: One More Light

#Who cares if one more light goes out? Well I do# [OML Track 9: “One More Light”]

We’re almost to the finish line. I was super excited for One More Light because it broke a drought of no new music until 2017[9]. The song One More Light became more poignant after his passing. I hope it still makes him proud.

Part Fifteen: Afterword

So where do we go from here? Honestly, not even the remaining members of the band know. They’re not actively looking to replace Chester, and as a group, they’re still officially on hiatus. I didn’t even touch on any of the DVD or special edition releases that I’ve barely heard. I guess in a sense they’re honorable mentions, but without having listened to them, I can’t form any honest opinions or associations for them.[10]

[/mrhahn]

[1] It seems fitting that I mention that shirt I got as a twelve-year-old because that’s when I started picking up on writing as a hobby. It was a way to release my imagination and translate what I had in mind into a story, even if those early stories were embarrassingly bad. These footnotes will serve to flesh out those asides since they’ll more than likely distract from the main narrative I’m trying to spin here.

[2] Although Revenge remains iconic! Even to this day, I still long for an N64 and another copy.

[3] Chester struggled with MI too, even though hardly anyone knew it. It’s what ultimately got the best of him.

[4] My fascination with Genius Lyrics is really helping me to analyze and better understand the meanings of the words.

[5] It didn’t help that he bore an uncanny resemblance to me…

[6] 2009, how time flies!

[7] Not sure how to spell this dang word.

[8] I regarded it as my least favorite LP album until Recharged came out. More on that later.

[9] It wasn’t until that I built the playlist that inspired this essay that I learned that there were some other singles issued between The Hunting Party and One More Light. These tracks include “We Made It” with Busta Rhymes, which actually fell between Meteora and Minutes to Midnight; “Not Alone”, which was between A Thousand Suns and Living Things; and “Darker Than Blood” with Steve Aoki that was between The Hunting Party and One More Light.

[10] One was called “Frat Party at the Pankake Festival” and the other one was “Road to Revolution”, I think?

#chester bennington #Linkin Park #mental health #mental illness #make chester proud

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jooniyah · 5 years

Text

Star-Crossed

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Fem Reader ; Yandere!au

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Yandere behavior, emotional abuse, extremely unhealthy relationship, kidnapping, manipulation, profanity, mentions of mental illness, blood, knives and murder.

Okay, read and enjoy!

After Haewon left the room, he snaked his arm around your waist and leaned into you. “ Tell me what she said,” he asked as he pressed you closer to his side. You gritted your teeth and ground out the words verbatim. You knew better than to leave out a single word. He chuckled and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "You seem to be such a good girl today. I thought you were going to try to act stupid and get punished for being a bad girl. But not today.” You thought you heard a faint disappointment in his voice. Usually, he loved it when you messed up. He always pounced on a chance to bend you over the nearest table and spank you till you cried. Or choke you till your eyes rolled back in your head, and you almost tasted death. You knew he was waiting for you to make the slightest slip up so he could have his way with you. But you were determined to last for at least a week before going back to the darkroom. Anything was better than the darkroom.

"Babe, I’m going to drop Haewon back at the intersection. You stay here and wait for me, alright?“ he told you as he walked out of the mansion with Haewon following behind him. He had slipped a sheet of paper into your hands before leaving. "Make sure you memorize everything in this,” he had said. You watched him walk away and lock the door behind him. After he had brought you to his mansion, he had changed all the the locks to electronic ones saying that you were too precious for him to lose. At that time, being the naive girl you were, you had thought it was true and had admired the way he loved you and your flaws. You didn’t even have an inkling at that time that a life with Namjoon would be like this. When you say it like that people would think you were lucky enough to be in his life, but you knew that every single day, you struggled to keep yourself alive, with death hanging like a knife above your head. He drove away to drop Haewon off, leaving you wondering if Haewon could even trace her way back to the mansion without his help. You decided to look at the sheet you were given, and you were dumbstruck on reading it. It contained a set of questions and answers you had to memorize. You felt stupid as you read what he had written down: expected questions that you might be asked at the party, and answers for them. His answers. He had changed everything, starting from your hometown to your maiden name. He had stripped away your individuality and replaced it with a nameless, faceless stranger. The one thing you had left after meeting him was taken away from you, it left you pensive, wondering what else could be taken away.

You were asked friendly questions, most of which Namjoon had anticipated and provided answers with. You managed to blush and evade the ones you weren’t sure of handling. “You know, we were so curious about who the whole party was for,” So Yeon, Jimin’s girlfriend said. “ Oh?”, you blinked, “who is it for?” you enquired curiously. “Why! you sure know Namjoon arranged this whole party to show off his new girlfriend,” giggled Eun Ji. “Of course, all the businessmen here pretend it’s to toast the successful closure of the financial quarter,” she added. You didn’t know if she was joking. You looked around the room filled with people, suddenly hyper-aware of all the pair of eyes sizing you up. “Don’t be nervous, everyone here except Namjoon’s friends work under him,” said So Yeon. “What do the rest of them do?”, you asked. You were then told that the men with Namjoon were the board of directors of the company that Namjoon owned. They had been friends from school, and they had founded the company together. The only fact you had known about Namjoon before coming here was that he was a maniac and a sadist. Yet, here were people telling you that he was a person who was funny, loved to make others laugh and had normal friends. Like they say, the Devil definitely wears Prada. You hadn’t understood what the phrase meant until Namjoon came into your life. He really was a good actor, skilled at masking his true personality. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, for pretending to be someone he was not. Or was he pretending? Did he know which of his personalities was true and which was the mask? Did you enough about him to hazard a guess? You found out he had had previous failed relationships, but none of them had lasted long enough for him to bring to his best friends. You thought you knew the reason why. Because he was a monster. You also got to know that he had studied abroad and had excellent grades. ‘Of course,’ you thought, ‘the bastard has an amazingly sharp mind’. You were surprised that he had left you unattended for so long, without breathing down your neck. You wondered if this was a test to check how much he could trust you.

Pressing his earpiece, the guard talked into his microphone, “ She has just left the building, she turned westward and continued down the road.”

After what seemed like fifteen minutes of running, your lungs gave out and you had to stop. He pulled you into an alley and the two of you crouched in the dark. You cuddled into him, missing the wonderful presence of someone familiar. Seung Ho was shushing you, patting your back while he kept an alert vigil on the alleyway. Neither of you uttered a single word, both absorbed in your own mortal fears on what would happen if something went wrong after coming this far. You kicked yourself for running away, after all those ‘rational’ plans of returning to Namjoon as soon as you finished meeting Seung Ho. Now you were absolutely sure Namjoon would break every bone in your body if he ever got his hands on you again. You can sense that Seung Ho was confused at all this, yet he never uttered a word. After your lungs stopped feeling like you had swallowed molten lava, you jabbed Seung Ho’s shoulder and whispered, “How did you send that message to me? How were you sure it would reach me?” He winked and said, “I got another person to call the number you had called me from. When I found out that it was a woman, I called and asked if she could deliver a message to the person she had lent her phone to. She didn’t mind, so I got her name, quickly scribbled a message and sent it to her through the reception desk.” Your eyes opened in wonder and you pressed an innocent kiss on his cheek for being so smart. He gave you his cheeky grin and dismissed you as a 'sloppy kisser’. You giggled and dug your fingers into his ribs, asking if it was time to resume running. He swept his eyes over the alleyway and nodded. Cautiously, he got up and went to check the road in case anyone was lurking there. When he was satisfied that the coast was indeed clear, he signaled you to join him.

#yandere bts #yandere namjoon #yandere namjoon x reader #namjoon x reader #yandere rm #bts rm x reader #yandere kpop #bts #bangtan fanfic #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts yandere #star-crossed #jooniyah

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