#which leaves none for general mental maintenance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-need-air · 4 years

Note

Oh-- I really really -really- liked your wolf hybrid Bakugou and-- if you don't mind, can you do one on Kirishima? Just the general headcanons, if this is too bothersome then you can ignore this once again- thank you

Just general headcanons you say? Okay, I had this written 2k words in before I got this ask and now it's at... ehem, let me take a deep breath for this;

Word count: 3.5k 💀 [of HCs 💀💀💀]

Why do I keep doing this to myself aksdjkd I love Kiri so much, my god! Thanks for the ask!! 💗

[ Masterlist ]

Hybrid!AU Kirishima Eijirou HCs

× i mentioned him as a dog hybrid and we're sticking with it because it just feels right, yano? anyway!

× you found out about how the new hybrid shelter in your city helped bust a fighting ring

× which was horrifying to think about

× one of your friends explained the process to you and you were definitely interested in helping someone out

× shelters were still underfunded and didn't provide much to help the hybrids adapt to society

× so you found yourself in front of the shelter without a plan

× just a dream and a spare couch that could thankfully convert into a bed

× before you could chicken out you stormed through the doors like a mad person, catching the attention of the guards and the front desk man

× it surprised you how disinterested they were though; were they seriously the people that dismantled a whole illegal fighting ring?

× they called a sweet old lady to accompany you

× when you explained your situation her eyes sparkled, looking you up and down and nodding her head

× she took you through some hallways, showing you around the precinct, questioning you about what type of hybrid you'd want

× to which you honestly didn't know how to respond, like anyone you could help????

× it kinda pissed you off how she spoke about the hybrids like they were pets, suggesting you'd get a kitty or a bunny, since [her words] they were low maintenance

× is this really a good shelter?

× you looked around, finding prison like cells left and right, some with people that looked at you curiously, some covering from your glance

× they were locked in...

× some growling could be heard far away but the woman shook her head at you, disapproving gaze turned to the side as she took you further into the building

× another room, this time cells were bigger, a few occupied, yet covered from you, indiferent and uninterested

× a man was sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair

× "Kirishima, boy, get up to greet someone"

× his red eyes snapped up, whatever he was thinking about slowly forgotten

× he blinked curiously as you hugged your frame, feeling uncomfortable, even ashamed to be there

× but a sweet smile took over his features

× "Hey! I'm Kirishima Eijirou!"

× it's really all it took for you to grow fond of him; he got up and came closer to the entrance of the cell and introduced himself in such easy-going manner you forgot about everything and anything

× he calmed you with his presence, even if it was very disheveled, with old ripped clothes and hair messy, painted red with obvious dark roots showing

× he had a black fluffy tail waving slowly behind him too

× you introduce yourself with his encouragement and mumbled how you wanted to help someone out today

× he just smiled at you, taking you in

× let me tell you something about dog hybrids: they can sense emotions and intentions so Kiri would be a very good judge of character and he really, genuinely took a liking on you

× the problem is how the fuck do you say out loud that you wanted to help him out

× because you sure as hell weren't going to say you'd adopt him; he's not a child? we're talking about a grown ass man here? literally looked like 6'4ft/1.95m?????

× it was so shameful, your gut turned as you cursed society and he sensed it, expression changing, falling a little as he saw you look very out of place

× "Hey, hey, everything's gonna be fine!" he said

× he told YOU that

× instead of YOU telling HIM those words;;; you almost burst into ugly crying, forgetting about everything else, your minuscule problems or shame or whatever and just nodded at him

× "Would you like to come home with me, Kirishima?" you said, ignoring the happy clapping the old lady was doing, watching carefully how his expression, clear as water, switched from easy-going and reassuring to shocked then hopeful

× "I'd like that" he breathed out "—a lot."

× as you went out the lady was telling him it was a shame they separated his group of friends, something about being sent to different shelters, how he had to be a good boy, to behave, yada-yada and seriously;;; he was taking it so lightheartedly, as if he was so used to this behavior or even was thankful for it?

× it was starting to get annoying, specially when they gave you a collar for him, like no fucking thanks, but you'd take care of it later

× since it was very random and unplanned, you were making mental gymnastics to figure out what to get and what to do first, like clothes, food—

× journey home was pleasant as he walked close to you, asking you questions about yourself with a gentle smile on his features

× meanwhile people got out of both your ways because he was intimidating and big and large but his smile screamed sunshine

× all while he never really mentioned anything about himself

× you made a point to ask him if he was hungry, to grab a quick bite at any restaurant you could get at then go buy some clothes and necessities

× you were so casual and this guy was so shocked

× i swear, looks at you blinking stupidly then ✨beams✨

× spoiler alert; big boy was hungry

× it didn't matter honestly, just seeing him eat without a worry [even if everyone at the restaurant was wary of him but got a stink eye from you] was a relief

× since you answered his questions about you, you decided to ask some about him; you were going to be roomies soon so might as well get to know each other

× shocked again

× stops mid-bite when you ask him something and stares wide-eyed

× doesn't answer but you can see he wants to and you're confused??

× "did I—... did I say something wrong?" you'd press, scared you'd spook him away or something

× he just gulps down and looks ashamed

× casually tells you they've been told at the shelter owners don't care about them

× 🙃 say what now bby?

× he kinda starts apologizing because he understands why you wouldn't wanna know and you put your hand on his; kinda mutes him for a second

× "Kirishima, we're gonna live together and hopefully be friends in the process, right? I'd like to know about you, as much as you're willing to tell me"

× [ falls in love right then and there ]

× he's met humans before, many actually—

× even in the short weeks he's been at the shelter he's seen people come and go and none talked to him like you did

× stares with stars in his eyes and chuckles awkwardly, blush on his face

× "You're really nice, [Y/N]" he said before eagerly answering your questions; course, it leaves you confused lmfao but you brush past it

× okay! shopping next, long story short it was very hard to find hybrid clothes for his size so you pick to change human clothes and adjust them for him

× as you again mention this stuff casually he's just awestruck

× when you got home, bags in hand, you were explaining to him how you really didn't have much; you were working to get a promotion soon but for now you had a couch that could open up into a very comfy bed, which he assured you it was enough

× you were lowkey unsure if he fit it because like i mentioned, big boi is big

× he does! so that's a relief but you started considering giving him your bed; you mostly fell asleep on the couch anyway and to be fair, it was really comfortable and you mention it as he looks around

× his head snaps at you, wide eyed, yet does not talk

× so you ramble bc that's something fun to do! "I mean I went to the shelter without a plan and uh, I want you to feel as comfortable as possible and maybe the bed is a better fit and—"

× Kirishima Eijirou sees: 💕💞💕💞💕💞💕

× has never been treated like this, like he's an... equal... something he'll take months to share with you, but we're getting ahead of ourselves

× the thing is this boy will fall pretty hard pretty fast, but will definitely take time to make a move

× bc he is respectful

× so he thanks you for the offer and tells you it's probably the best place he slept in all his life

× can your heart stop breaking for him? i mean it's a good couch but it's no luxury hotel bed???

× [ we need to pause, OP made herself sad ]

× ok, so he's really helpful around the house, and he knows how to cook!

× takes no time to talk about his friends, special his best friend that cooked for everyone at the fighting ring and forced them all to help and that's how he was pretty decent at cooking himself

× wasn't the best though, but followed instructions like a boss

× he lives for your compliments

× literally his tail wiggles with no shame

× seriously;; tell him he did a good job even at the dumbest thing and—

× puffs chest

× wiggle-wiggle

× "Thanks!"

× 🥺💕💞 make him stop, he's so cute

× did i mention he has like floppy black ears? Omg his earsssssssssshnnngggggggggg

× because they move whenever he walks and they're mesmerizing

× and one day that you're observing them for science [not because your heart was like 💘pom-pom💘] you noticed his roots

× remember when your heart broke for him? hah, have some more because as you asked him, he started telling you that he was pushed into dying his hair red for the spectacle, diversity and what-not

× reassured you he grew to love it now, being part of who he is

× also gets a little bit shy when adding he wouldn't want to change the color in hopes of finding his friends someday and for him to be easily recognizable

× you bought him hair dye that same day

× WHICH! apart from gaining extra 🥺💕💞 from him, it created a nice routine between you two!!

× you offered to dye his hair and it was such a great time; he made you laugh, conversation going just as easy whenever you talked, you got to know each other a little bit more and—

× heh

× at the end, after applying all the red hair dye, you massaged his scalp gently

× guess who melts in your hands? yes, giant ass dog-man melts into a puddle under your hands and it's the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen

× I'm serious, he sighs and leans into your gloved hands with zero [0] shame, eyes closed and peaceful expression on his features apart from a small smile

× you tease him and he laughs it off, but promise him you'd give him head scratches when he was finished with the dye, washed off and hair dry

× and you better deliver

× "Don't think I forgot!" he'd say as he'd hop on his make-shift bed in the living room by your side, tail moving from side to side

× as you start playing with his locks, he falls into your lap and starts snoring

× move an inch and he opens his eyes to look at you confused

× puppy eyes questioning you if you're leaving 🥺

× yep, you fall asleep together

× you point out to yourself that those puppy eyes will be the death of you

× he's a touchy guy, okay? since he's been touchy with you from the very start you never questioned it, even read on the internet that many hybrids descended from house pets need physical affection, like hugs, pats, scratches, all the bag, so it wasn't a big deal for you

× except it was a big deal because he's been around for a month and you're already catching feelings and that's bad because you did not bring him there to fall for him but to help him start a new life and—

× oh my god, what if he thought you were one of those people from the horror stories about hybrid adoption that only wanted them for one thing—

× no, no, no, nO, NO.

× anxiety was getting to you as the guilt of catching feelings for him, plus the fact that he was financially dependant on you for the time which would've made it even worse if he found out, PLUS he comes from such a rough life, he definitely needs a break and doesn't need his first human friend in forever to be a piece of;;;

× Kiri catches on this really constant and increasing feeling of anxiety; he starts to send you worried glances but doesn't know how to proceed

× in such a soft voice he asks if you're okay, if something is on your mind

× and since you weren't sharing anything but acted as if everything was alright even when he felt you lied, Kiri started to get worried too

× why were you anxious? why weren't you talking to him about it?

× oh, god, was he a burden? because he felt like one;;; did you want him out? he felt like an extra weight for you and wanted to do something about it but maybe you got sick of him? he felt unmanly...

× the fact that he knew he cared about you as more than just a friend made him even more anxious and it didn't help that whenever he touched you he heard your breath hitch or your heart beating louder; he got his hopes up then down because

× you smelled like people; people he didn't know, people he wanted to know because he needed to know why did you smell like them? were they a treat? were they potential partners? he really did not want to ask bc Kirishima felt like it wasn't his place to know

× as tension grew in the house you decided to gift him a new phone, ready to give him some news that reached your ears

× it seems Kiri himself liked to do sports and mainly jog to keep himself active and he's started to pass by the local dog-park to play with the dogs

× imagine your surprise when a few neighbors asked you if he'd be willing to train their dogs bc he's been teaching them stuff like once a week and the dogs listened

× big time dog whisperer; he says "Sit" to one dog and all dogs in the neighborhood sit too, you get me?

× so you said it would be nice for him to have his own money; not like you didn't help him without care, but you saw his face every time you bought something for him and really felt like he needed some real independence

× he's in ✨awe✨ because you came up with clients already that were very eager for dog training sessions, which he loved??? and suggested hours, wages??????

× and you gave him this new phone to help him with it if he's interested too?

× "Well, the normal price on the internet around the area is—"

× "[Y/N]."

× "Hmm?"

× "You're really amazing, you know that, right?" he'd have his lips curled into a sweet smile

× which makes your heart go crazy and this man notices how you get flustered

× loves it

× get ready for compliments; a lot of compliments just expecting your sweet flustered reactions

× he's slow at realizing your feelings for him because he beats himself down and seems himself as less of a man but tests the waters nonetheless and a d o r e s every time you struggle to thank him for said compliments and don't know how to continue functioning

× catches on and gets his hopes up

× and so you do

× listen, this is hilarious because you're both dumb idiots and want to be respectful towards the other meanwhile he hugs you tighter and for a little bit too long, loving how you melt into him, kisses you on the cheek and sees you get all flustered, looks at you like you're the only one to ever matter until you stop talking, turning everything into a giant mess of silence until you both grin at each other???? I'm getting second-hand embarrassment, just kiss???????

× and it happened with an accidental kiss

× you greeted him as he walked through the door, excited to tell him about your promotion, rambling about the take-out you ordered while he smiled at you

× and it started to be usual for you to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, right? just what normal roomies do, you know [mhmm~]

× he's taking his shoes off and knows the kiss is coming, but just before you press it on his cheek you whisper/squeal "I got the promotion!" to which he turns his head in surprise at you making your lips press together by accident [mhhhmmmmm~~~]

× cue both of you apologizing, looking like a mess

× he's blushing

× you both loved it

× why are you standing so close to each other?

× why did he lick his lips in daze while staring at yours?

× which one of you was leaning in for another kiss?

× it didn't really matter because he's kissing you slowly, taking you into his arms like you were made of porcelain

× glues his body to yours and breathes you in, lips locked, neither believing it was real

× lifts you up in his arms with no difficulty and smiles, both inches separated from another; "Congratulations..." his breath would fan over your face;;;;

× yeah, okay, he takes no time to confess, resulting in a mess of manly words skdjekldj you guys talked that whole night while cuddling and stealing kisses, you on his lap

× [ his nose brushing your neck; he loves your scent omg ]

× it becomes official pretty much instantly and then all your worries wash away

× all the anxiety, all the stress and overthinking, they've all been sorted out in one night and trust me, afterwards this man is pure honesty and loyalty

× he won't hesitate to talk to you about anything and will be such a patient sweetheart with you, listening to every word you say without judgment

× loves cheesy stuff? as in the most cliché stuff seen in movies? that's his shit right there; whenever you two see each other after some time apart [sometimes 5 minutes apart] he'd pick you in his arms and spin you around, then expect you to kiss him

× if you don't, i will skfjdkfk step aside 👀

× skin contact; please, touch him

× if you're not he sends you those famous puppy eyes and we all know they're killer

× sighs, happy to hold you tight against him, engulfing you into his big frame; yeah, you're where you belong, in his arms.

× everyone in the neighborhood loves him; it's ridiculous, seriously, because you find out he helped around all the time when you were at work and gained everyone's love

× makes an instagram account to teach people how to train their dog and becomes an internet sensation, a small celebrity

× also bc he's hot and sometimes posts working out pics

× skdksjs imagine this: makes dinner for both of you, lits up some candles, goes all in, then fucking posts it on ig saying "waiting for my baby to come home #surprise" forgetting you can see it lmfao

× you see the story on your way home and 🥺💞 "ye i love his oblivious ass"

× soft gasps when you tell him after dinner

× has the audacity to be surprised, like babe????

× Kaminari finds him through social media and this baby cries in relief for a good half an hour

× both team up to find all the gang

× guess who talks praises about you all the time? mhm, this guy right here is proud to have you

× and Denki has to deal with it;

× anywho! want to break him for good? tell him you love him for the first time

× GETS. SO. EXCITED. AND. EMOTIONAL.

× but forgets how to speak

× finds his words to say it back after staring at you entranced, grinning like an idiot, taking you in his arms and giving you a bone crushing hug while shaking in place

× he's never felt this loved and adores every second of it

× you're like a drug and he's deep gone, man

× tells you he loves you every single day

#kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #noire writes #hybrid!au #hybrid!kirishima #kirishima headcanons #does anyone remember kirishima saying pompom? cuz it's been on my mind for hours and i love it

509 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 4 years

Note

....I lied. If you’re still doing the title thing - if I go down gonna burn with the sun

I thought there was a few more title asks still lurking in here for me to answer. *cracks knuckles* RAMBLE TIME.

-Star Wars AU. Star Wars FFXV sorta-x-over AU where the Astrals decide that Aera and Ardyn deserve a chance at happiness, just not on Eos, and therefore go YEET. The Force, finding these two wayward and powerful souls is like- Sure okay and boom. Ardyn and Aera are reborn in a galaxy far, far away.

-Purely not coincidentally, far away, on different worlds and in different star systems, one Satine Kryze and one Obi-Wan Kenobi take their first breaths.

-Yes I’m serious.

-This would be- SUCH a chaotic fixit AU, both because Aera loves peace but she is NO pacifist and not about to let an entire Culture DIE just because some so called New Mandalorians cannot see the dangers of burying their own past. Two because- well.

-Ardyn has already BEEN a Chosen One and an Accursed, a Hero and a Villain. He has walked the path to salvation and damnation both and seen the worst sides of himself and humanity, and for all they look different, every species in the galaxy isn’t far different from humanity in those regards.

-Obi-Wan Kenobi grows up in the Jedi Temple and he is a Troublesome Child. Too quiet and too reckless by turns, a smile that could melt butter and a tongue that can strip flesh from the backs of whatever bully goes after him this time. The Jedi ... worry. He is Dark, they whisper, was born with shreds of Darkness in his soul. He is manipulative, they worry, he has a temper, they gossip.

-Ardyn hears them all and inside a part of him screams. Because of course he is Dark, they did not have their souls swallowed by a plague for others’ sake, were not consumed with madness until dying (being freed) at the hands of a nephew two thousand years removed. As for manipulation ... he doesn’t mean to. It’s just ... he’s so much OLDER than the other children mentally, older even than any Jedi there (even YODA), he can’t help it that he thinks rings around people sometimes, or that he is so in tune with the Force (with a galaxy-spanning magic that burns beneath his skin like a hundred newborn suns that he keeps buried so the Jedi will not sense it so clearly, will not know how strong and old he really is inside) that he can practically read minds and knows what to say to get the best outcome. He has a temper. Who doesn’t? You try being reborn after a lifetime of AGONY and see how patient you are with petty morons and small minded bullies.

-He says none of those things, and when his time grows near to be sent away without a Master, he does not fight it.

-He looks at the shadow of Qui Gon Jinn in the doorway and something in the Force ... sings. Sad and soft. It speaks of heartache and betrayal and a fear of being hurt again. Ardyn can almost FEEL the two paths branching away under his feet, one with Qui Gon in it, and one without, and he does not know which one will bring him less pain.

-Ardyn does not try to impress anyone in the sparring ring, but after he is done, he slips away. He finds Jinn in the garden, trying to meditate, and settles down across from him without invitation.

-Qui Gon opens his eyes in annoyance. He knows that the Council wants him to take a Padawan, and that this one is almost at the age of being moved to the Corps. He expects the boy to beg to become a Padawan, or to try to impress him somehow.

-Instead the boy just smiles, thin and sharp and knowing in a way that makes Qui Gon feel ... exposed. Like every thought and wound in his heart is on display for this child, “The Council wants you to take a Padawan. That’s why they keep making you watch us.” It’s a statement, not a question.

-Qui Gon raises an eyebrow, “And you think I should take you?”

-The boy shrugs, but his blue eyes are still sharp as knives behind his friendly mien and Qui Gon doesn’t like the feeling crawling up his spine, “That’s your choice to make and yours alone. There’s nothing I can say to change your mind one way or the other.”

-“Then why are you here?” He asks suspiciously.

-“Because you’re lonely, and it makes the Force feel sad.” The answer is so blunt, so sure of itself. Qui Gon feels his stomach twist, and old anger makes him snappish without meaning to be (he’s heard of this boy as well, he’s heard that he’s got a manipulative streak and a tendency to twist his Force empathy to his own ends, he’s heard many things).

-(Qui Gon forgets that it is not a good idea, to base judgement on rumors) “I am not, and if I was, I would not need your company to ease it.”

-Obi-Wan Kenobi, Initiate of the Jedi Temple Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Sage and Healer King and Accursed, tilts his head thoughtfully, then nods and stands up, “Then I will take my leave. Take care of yourself, Master Jinn.”

-Initiate Kenobi Ardyn the Accursed and Healer King walks away, and a breath later the Living Force twists, like the snapping of cables, and Qui Gon gets the fleeting, distinct impression that he has failed some kind of very important test.

-Ardyn is assigned to the AgraCorps. A life as a farmer for others awaits him.

-The day before he’s to be shipped off, he walks out one of the Temple’s side-entrances and into the underbelly of Coruscant with only the clothes on his back. He doesn’t look back even once. It takes until the next day for anyone (for his friends, if he can call them friends when they are so much YOUNGER and painfully more innocent than him) to miss him. It takes another day for the Jedi to realize Obi-Wan Kenobi is well and truly missing.

-Deep in Coruscant’s seedy side, at the dockyards manned by those who are less than concerned with legality, a boy in ratty (stolen) clothes asks to be taken aboard as a maintenance worker. He calls himself Ardyn Izunia, and there are no Force Sensitives close enough to feel the sunlike fire burning in his blood as he smiles.

-Skip forward several years and Satine Kryze (Aera) is on the run from Death Watch, civil war is on the horizon and her father asks for Jedi protection to keep her safe.

-The bounty hunter who calls himself Adagium finds her first.

-A sword that glitters like blood and cuts through metal like a lightsaber (that hums-hums-hums with magic none but a Force sensitive can see blazing like bloody fire down the ancient blade) finishes off the Death Watch assassin that Satine hadn’t had the chance to shoot yet, and under his hood, Adagium smiles. Satine stills, head tilted as if listening, then she collapses into the teenage bounty hunter’s arms in joyous tears. Adagium- Ardyn- holds her close and cries with her.

- “I finally found you, My Aera,” he breathes and for a moment he lets his magic loose and it burns like the sun through the Force, lancing through the growing shadows in the Force like they’re fragile paper and somewhere far away Sidious feels Doom™ crawl violently up his spine.

-Aka that Fixit AU where Aera is a Mand’alor that DOES want peace for her people but NOT at the cost of burning history to the ground (or being defenseless, she has died to the sword once already she will not go quietly into the night a second time, not if she has to paint the walls in blood to protect her life and the lives of her people), the Jedi are Confused™, and Ardyn is incredibly content to be Aera’s former bounty hunter trophy husband with a tendency to adopt strays (read: Anakin and Shmi who he frees as well as Anakin kthanks, and quite possibly Savage and Feral too tho no one is quite sure how) until the Clone Wars start and Ardyn takes one (1) look at the war and goes: ah. I know this plan. This is a stupid plan. And all of Sidious’s plans go fwoosh.

-Because I’m sorry but there is no way you can convince me that Ardyn wouldn’t EAT SIDIOUS ALIVE in any kind of fight, mental, physical, Force, or tactical. This man is 2k years old. It took Sidious until he was an old sack of bones to get his Empire and that was with GENERATIONS of Sith serving as his foundation, and then he got yote down a reactor shaft by his minion 19-25 years later. Ardyn was able to manipulate an entire Empire into engineering its destruction and fulfill ALL HIS REVENGE GOALS (giving Bahamut a headache, driving the world to darkness and ruin, and ending the line of Lucis Caelum INCLUDING HIMSELF) in like- 30-40 years. While MENTALLY AND PHYSICALLY ILL thanks to the Scourge. Fully healthy and in control of himself and with people (Aera) to protect? Sidious would just be fresh meat.

-Also Ardyn adopts a bunch of the clones, possibly all the clones, on the excuse that since they were raised by Mandalorian trainers they count as Mandalorians and as genetic sons of Jango Fett that makes the Mandalorian CITIZENS by BIRTHRIGHT and the Republic can only watch in confusion as their army gets mass adopted by the Mand’alor’s trophy husband who also exposed their new Chancellor as a Sith. Bail Organa, the new Chancellor, may or may not be sweating quietly at the thought of accidentally gaining the ire of the so called Trophy Husband because he’s smarter than most and knows that Ardyn is Very Very Dangerous.

-Also also Qui Gon doesn’t die somehow because I do really like him and I think he’s a good Jedi, just not a good fit for Ardyn as a master.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Burn With the Sun verse #Ardyn Izunia #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x satine #ardyn x aera #oh no new au

160 notes · View notes

yandere-society · 5 years

Text

The Ultimatum

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day has rolled around once again, and just like last year, you plan on spending it with none other than your emotional support dog. What you don’t know, however, is that you have an unexpected visitor awaiting for you at home.. and not only does he have a loaded gun on his hip, but he also has your beloved pet in his lap.

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 6,000

Admin: @tatertotthethot

Valentine’s Day Event Masterlist

Trigger warnings: yandere-themes, signs/mentioning of mental disorders such as: anxiety, depression, PTSD and dissociation; Mentions of gang violence; Depictions of gore; nonconsentual kissing (nothing sexual); no dogs were harmed in the making of this…

“Here you go, guys.” You said as you handed the couple across the counter their drinks. You returned their smiles and bid them a good day, but as soon as they turned away and linked their fingers together on the way out, your expression settled into one of disdain.

Baley, your manager, noticed it. But like always, she chose to ignore it. She’s very much use to your secretive, albeit bitter distaste towards romance. She’s been working along side you for two years now, and knows that you’re a big advocate for holiday decorations. You’ve decked the place out on Halloween, thanksgiving, Christmas— even fucking Saint Patrick’s day. But for Valentine’s Day, all you did was slap some heart shaped stickers on the window and didn’t even look too happy to be doing that, either. But she’s never been one to push.

“Guess what I’m doing this evening,” She hinted, hanging the ‘closed’ sign on the door.

“Hm?” You asked, having zoned out while rinsing your shot glasses out.

“I’m gonna eat the rest of my edibles and read some alien erotica.”

Not expecting anything less from her, given her personality, you only choked out a laugh and shook your head. It’d be more amusing if you knew she wasn’t kidding. Baley has a weird obsession with aliens and you never took her serious about it until you bought her a tentacle dildo as a gag-gift on her birthday, and instead of laughing about it and going off into a banter like you were anticipating, she started screaming and jumping up and down like you just handed her the last Golden Ticket to the fucking chocolate factory.

“What about your boyfriend?” You asked, forcing yourself to engage in conversation to keep you from spiraling.

“He’s out of town. So I’ll be thinking of him as I read about the alien king abducting me and using my tenta-holes—“

“Never mind.” You cut her off, trying to let that lighten up the mood. You appreciated the effort, but it didn’t work. You just wanted today to be over.

It’d be a whole lot better if only you could tell her the truth and come clean about your past. But it’s not like she’d believe you, even if you had the guts. But in all honesty, her fantasy about alien abduction was more believable.

You’re a barista making $10 an hour, living paycheck to paycheck and inhabiting the house your grandmother left you in her will. You have no car, you rely on public transportation; all your clothes are from goodwill and when you’re not working at this shop, you spending your life in confinement of those walls with your dog, as a recluse.

If you even dared to tell Baley that, just three years ago, you were living in a million-dollar mansion in South Korea, and had a luxurious wardrobe from big-name designers and that you didn’t even own a pair of fucking socks that were under $100.. she’d look at you as if you were the alien. She wouldn’t entertain the bigger half of the story, about how you were engaged to a man who’s now serving a life sentence and could possibly be put on death row for committing a robbery that left one of the international banking systems short 23-million won— which would amount to be approximately 20 million dollars in America... you would’ve lost her at the word Fiancé.

It’d be easy to prove, though. Your associations to the crime may not show up in your background check, being as you’re back here in America and was never detained, and the news isn’t relevant enough to circulate here. However, a simple google search would reveal it all, even with pictures of you two in public.

But not even you wanted to look up his name to know what was going on with his case. You were still ambient to forget about him, in a way. You wanted to ignore his existence. You fucking loath that man.. you swear, you do.

You had fallen back into a brooding silence again without even meaning to, and although you were busily cleaning up off muscle memory, you were detached. He still has that effect on you. And truth be known, the first year you spent in lonesome isolation after leaving Korea was just a change of scenery but not very different from the lifestyle he had subjected you to. But even still, it was so much better than living with him at the estate. And now, with your dog Sweetpea there, you feel safe again. At least you were in the same place you grew up, and felt closer to your grandmother—

Fuck, you missed her so much. He wouldn’t even let you visit her in person before she past. The man owned his own private jet and it never had any maintenance problems until the one fucking night you needed to go back home. You only got to speak with her on the phone, and bawled your fucking eyes out and spewed out an incoherent apology just hours before her heart gave out. That’s when she told you that she left you the house, and how sorry she was for kicking you out of it because you didn’t pursue the career field she wanted you to go for.

If only they would’ve arrested Taehyung a month prior, you could’ve been there for her. You could’ve hugged her and the two of you could given each other the apology you both deserved.

“Hey..” Baley’s voice suddenly came to your left ear, the only one that you could actually hear out of. Your right one, despite being 80% deaf even with a functioning hear aid, was faintly ringing from the emotional tangent you had accidentally drifted into.

You looked over at her, and broke down. Although she could never fully understand, she still gave you an empathetic frown and was pulling you into a hug before you could sputter out an apology— not that there was any use for one.

You had secrets that still haunted you, and will always impair your daily life— much like your botched eardrum and this shitty device you spent way too much money on. That’s another thing you only had Kim Taehyung to thank for, along with your fucked up shoulder.

You had to carefully elevate your arms but eventually returned the hug and cried a little harder, not able to help it. Sweetpea was a great reciprocate for affection and did a swell job with distracting you, but as far as human comfort goes, you haven’t had so much as that in.. well, seven fucking years. Tae was always big on affection, and also comforted you when you needed it. But it was redundant and didn’t have a sincere effect, being as he was the very one that initially caused the hurt it derived from.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, I never do... but I want you to know that I can see how strong you are. You’re doing a great job at making it through each day...” she muttered, rubbing your back as it shook with each silent sob. You felt bad when you heard her own voice beginning to thicken, but that was no surprise. She was a sympathizer and a little bit emo in general. Seeing others cry was enough to jerk a tear out of her, and you loved that about her. She’s a weirdo, but she’s pure, and she’s very good hearted. You could even say that you may have deeper feelings for her as well, and they may even be mutual, but you were no good for her. Hell, you were already putting her in enough danger just by being an employee at her shop. If you were to let your relationship stem past being friendly coworkers, or even hung out with her outside of work, that could pose an actual threat to her safety.

So, even though you wanted to lengthen the embrace, and longed to tighten your arms around her even more, you pulled back and wiped at your face, giving her a weak grin and a nod instead.

She squeezed your shoulders one last time before taking a step back, recollecting herself.

“You go home. I got everything else.”

You sheepishly nodded again, thanking her one last time before collecting your things and booking it out of there. Had you not felt so broken and defeated in that moment, you would’ve refused. But her show of affection triggered a deep, dire need to give and be given more comfort.

Fortunately for you, though, you had a special someone for that. Your dog is the only living creature on this planet that can be trusted with the revelations of your past. She’s the only reliance you have for receiving unconditional love and support without any judgment... probably because she doesn’t even understand what the fuck you’re saying half the time, nor can she repeat the shit you say, but as far as comfort goes, it’s always a guarantee.

— That’s just in her nature, like most pets. Pitbulls, however, are very sensitive and attentive to certain emotions— especially depression and anxiety. They’re just as good with protecting their owners, as well as they are with babysitting them. Everyone knows pitbulls have a notorious and misguided reputation for being aggressive. But little do most know, before dog fighting became a popular thing and defamed their personalities, pitbulls were primarily referred to as ‘Nanny dogs’. They’re great with babies in general, and very domestic and charismatic by nature. But despite being big, loveable goof balls themselves, they can literally sense stressful emotions and will know what type action to take in order to sedate them.

Sweetpea may not have professional training and certification but it is by her true nature and personality that you call her an Emotional Support Dog. When you’re having another one of your episodes— panic attacks, senseless paranoia, nightmares— she’s running to your aid and doing anything she can to distract and get you to play with her. When you’re depressed and spiraling into another breakdown, she licking at your face and sitting in your lap, not even seeing the problem with her being three times bigger than the average lap dog—

“Kneehemplamaforseeking?”

You sucked in a breath and blinked over at the PetsMart employee, smiling a few away from you. You probably looked lost, and in a way you quite literally were. You hardly remember walking in the direction of this store, let alone entering it. But this a common thing for you, so you easily just went on about your way despite the sudden worry of missing your bus... again.

“I’m sorry, what’d you say?” You had asked, turning your good ear towards her and watching her lips move.

“Do you need help looking for something?” She repeated, carefully annunciating her words this time, now that she could see the device in your ear. In today’s age, most people mistake it as a bluetooth— which has unknowingly saved you from accidentally talking to yourself in public, more than you would know.

You shook your head in response to the lady, and checked the time on your phone. You had 30 minutes left, thank God.

“No thanks. I’m just here to get some treats and waste some time before my bus comes. It’s windy as hell outside.”

“Ah, it certainly is,” she agreed, making her way to the next aisle. “Be safe out there!”

“I’ll try.” You muttered to yourself, grabbing a bag of bacon strips off the shelf— the very thing you had ultimately came for. It should’ve taken you no more than 5 minutes to grab and go. But it wasn’t uncommon for you to take much longer and aimlessly wonder down multiple aisles only to get one or two things from the same aisle, though. You do it at every store you go to, if you can stand to be outside of your home or away from work.

After checking out, you made it a mission to stay present until your bus came. By the time you got home, you were more stable.. up until the bus driver— a sweet elderly man who’s been transporting you on this route for last couple of years, handed you a rose on your way down the stairs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, young lady.”

You had the strength to give him a genuine smile, but as soon as you stepped off and the doors closed, and the bus engine picked back up and left you with a gust of wind, you broke again.

Taehyung always gave you a bouquet of blood red roses for Valentine’s Day. He knew you were a sucker for them. And you still are, but sentiment wasn’t the only emotion to come now. They brought on an ache. A pain. A worry. A twinge of longing, but a fuckton of resentment.

You wanted to throw it on the ground and stomp at it.. better yet, you wanted to set it on fire and watch it burn while smoking a much needed cigarette. But first, you need to see your dog. You know she’s just as anxious to see you.

You trudged up to your door and was quick to unlock it... but frowned when you didn’t see her on the other side. Maybe it was because your ears were ringing again from how worked up you’d just gotten. But usually, the mere sound of your key twisting at the lock would have her running to the and practically beating it down, and you’d opened to see her gleefully wining out and wagging her tail.

But she wasn’t there.

“Sweetpea?” You called out, making it a point to swing the door shut behind you. Still, nothing—

Whimpering. You heard her whimpering and your head snapped over to the hallway. Your heart began to race. Your bed door was open, as always, and you could hear her in there but she wasn’t coming out. Only whimpering for you to come to her.

Fearing the worst, thinking perhaps she’d hurt herself to the extent that she couldn’t move, you barged down the hallway and listened with a sickening sense of uneasiness as her whimpering turned to muffled howls.

“Sweetpea, wha—“

You screamed. Sheer horror and white-hot adrenaline erupted through your veins and scorched your nerve endings, leaving you numb in the limb to the impact of the floor beneath your kneecaps. All you could feel was the volcanic eruption of despair in your chest and the strain in your diaphragm.

Sweetpea was okay, but very much in danger. She had a muzzle on, and her big, canopy-like ears were peeled back and her big, doughy eyes were wildly beading dead at you as she struggled and pawed at the carpet, watching you fall to you fall out. She was so worried to get to you but she couldn’t, do to the death grip of the man who was holding her by a leash. She couldn’t even interpret the lethality of the weapon that was also aimed at the back of her head— a glock you specially recall being the weapon of choice when Taehyung pistol whipped a man’s head open before emptying all twelve rounds in his magazine into his face.

Now, all you could envision was the same being done to that sweet face and big, bulbous head.

You screamed out and wailed even louder, not even looking at the intruder or registering who it was. Because you already fucking knew and in your mind it was too late.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He roared, making you and Sweetpea flinch. You stopped screaming but your breath was ragged beyond your control. Your vision was bouncing between his fierce scowl and Sweetpea’s fearsome one. You dove forward, intending to crawl and beg but two pairs of shoes stepped out from where they’d been standing behind the door, and their hands gripped you by the biceps before hauling you up to your feet. You didn’t even try to resist them. You knew better than that. But fear still had you discombobulated and speaking out to yourself, feeling incredibly dizzy and disarrayed.

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

“You’re not dreaming.” Taehyung snarled, palm itching to slap some sense into you. But even within the three years he’s spent in bitterness, it didn’t change the morality he did have in relations to you. He’d never hit you out of anger.

But then he realized the real reason why you were saying that, when your knees suddenly gave out and the hold his men had on you became the only thing keeping you up right as you fainted out. He didn’t realize you still had that problem, and it hurt him to see that now.

Back when he had you in his possession, you had accidentally witnessed an execution down in the basement of his mansion. It was the first time you fainted, a d your body came toppling down a good ten-or-so steps, which were made of cement, and you were lucky to have only broken your nose and dislocated your shoulder.

Guilt crashed over him, suddenly. He meant to terrorize you in a way that wasted little time to gain submission, but he didn’t mean to trigger your PTSD— although he knew it was likely. Given the resolve, he put the gun back in its holster and stood up, beckoning for Yoongi to take the leash. Jungkook easily held you up by the waste and waited to pass you off to your fiancé before bringing your wrists behind your back. You slowly came to as he did so, and your head lolled back up only for your entire body to snap back into attention all at once, now that you were face to face with the Devil himself.

“Come on, you fucking idiot!”

Your head snapped over and you began to panic again as Yoongi fought with your, trying to drag her over to her cage by the leash. She was putting up one hell of a fight and audibly wheezing from the choke, her eyes now bulging as she looked at you.

You bucked against the both of them, your maternal instincts causing you to go feral as you saw red.

“QUIT! YOU’RE FUCKING CHOKING HER, YOU FUCKING PRICK! PICK HER UP!”

“She’s too squirmy!” He shouted back, the shock of your outburst causing him to lose tension and Sweetpea lunged the both of them forward. Tae was shouting at Jungkook to hurry with the restraints and squeezing you tighter, but you were kicking and flailing like a fish out of water now.

“MAKE HIM STOP!” You cried out, but was forcefully silenced by the gigantic hand that grabbled around the entire bottom half of your face— including your nose. Having been in this situation before, knowing his antics, you knew he wasn’t going to let you breathe again until you did as told. So you were forced to settle down but was still desperately pleading with your eyes, crying as your dog continued to heave against the menstruations.

“Yoongi, for fuck sake, the dog is 50 pounds. Just pick her up and put your in the kennel.” Tae stressed, eyes still locked with yours.

With a grunt, Yoongi tackled your dog and trapped her in a bear hug, snatching her up off the ground. You wanted to scream at him again but you were actually starting to struggle for oxygen, chest jolting with an involuntary attempts to inhale.

“Alright, they’re on. I just gotta link them.”

Tae’s hand finally dropped and you hacked out, swallowing as much air as you could. Now that Sweetpea was safely in her cage, you had time to worry about your own safety, but the look on his face wasn’t giving off such a merciful vibe.

“You do whatever you want to me. I don’t care. I won’t fight back... but if you hurt my dog—“

“If I hurt your fucking dog, it’ll just be tough shit for you. I’ll still do whatever the hell I want and unless you need me to prove that, I suggest you stop with ultimatums..” he chuckled, but it sounded so cold and twisted. He was on the verge of snapping, and was fighting to keep as much composure as he could right now, for your sake.

But he was on a heist right now, you readied yourself for the unknown when he punctuated his sentence by grappling your throat with the same, vandalized and accessorized hand he just smothered you with— fingers digging in at the sides. Your breathing was once again constricted and your eyes reddened in strain, your voice dying out.

Tae may not beat you, but he knows your worse fear is dying by suffocation. Hence, why he’s so big in breath play.

“Can you?” He reiterated, snarling his teeth at you and revealing the top and bottom pair of golden, fang-shaped plates framing his pearly white canine teeth. Back in the day, you found them so extravagant and tasteful, but now you found them all the more threatening.

He waited until your eyes began fluttered back before letting go again, and Jungkook’s body was the only thing that saved you from falling back. You never understood why, but for some reason, Jungkook was the only person Tae allowed to be in closer range of you, even when it wasn’t necessary. He even reminded you of that when Yoongi had stepped a little too close and Taehyung shot a glare over to him that had him taking a couple steps back. But Jungkook was apparently free to stand there, holding you up even as you regained your footing. You feared that one day it will all make sense, but for now, you were thankful that he was there to at least to save you from collapsing.

It’d be great if they weren’t even fucking here, at all.

“Go put the kennel in the car— not on the seats, though. Hobi will kill me if I fuck up the interior.”

“Please let me rehouse her.” You begged, cringing as his eyes returned to you. They looked even more colorless than before. “I’ll come with you, but I don’t want her there with us.”

“She’s fine. As long as she doesn’t shit and piss everywhere and doesn’t chew any of my shit, or try to attack me, I’ll let you keep her.”

“You were just holding a fucking gun to her head, Taehyung. Please let me rehouse her. My friend Baley will take her. All I gotta do is leave her in the cafe with a note— I have the keys. I’ll even let you write the fucking note yourself and we can go...” It was significantly getting harder to speak, now that your airways were irritated and your unsteady emotions were only making it worse.

You had already accepted your fate, but had a twinge of hope left that he’d at least hear you out on that request. His features had softened into a crestfallen display of guilt, and remorse. But your faith in him shattered all over again when he stubbornly shook his head and reached for the gun again. You were just about to throw another fit until he pulled the magazine out and showed it to you.

It was empty, until he pocketed it and pulled out a fully-loaded one and clipped it into place, before putting it back in the holster.

He tricked you, and although it was still pretty fucking evil, you were relieved. He never intended to shoot her and wouldn’t have been able to, even if his finger applied enough pressure on the trigger. But you were still very much in the midst of an abduction, and you still hated this man for what he was doing to you now.

“Why are here?” You croaked.

“To come get you and our new pet,” he announced, faking the enthusiasm before reinforcing his glare. “I’m... incredibly pissed about the fact that abandoned me.. but even more so offended by the negligence to stay updated.”

His eyes then caught the flash of a blue light at your ear. Your hearing aid was dying and faintly peeping in your ear. The remembrance had his entire demeanor shift to a sullen one, like a switch.

“But at the same time—“ his voice had fallen into a lower pitch, almost to the point of being a whisper as he stepped closer and easily molded his hands around your face. You suddenly felt fragile, but not in a way that made you giddy, like it use to. Now, you had to swallow down the bile in your throat and fight against the nausea as his suddenly lips came near.

“—It’s really hard take that out on you, when I can’t even blame you for it. But It’s been three fucking years, honey. Three. How could you not even have enough concern for my well being, to not even send a fucking post card? Did you really think you‘d never see me again, and that you had snuck away from me? I knew what you were doing, and where you were going before you even boarded your fucking flight.”

“You’re suppose to be in jail. I thought you were letting me go.”

“First of all, you didn’t even know the original plan to think that it had failed. All my charges have been dropped and the suspicion of my involvement dismissed. Namjoon has been found guilty and is now serving that sentence, like I had initially plotted from the beginning. You never knew shit to fucking assume anything!”

You glared at him despite the jolt that came with his drastic notch in volume, and not your tongue as he went on.

“But I did allow you to leave the country, but only to give you space and to let you touch base with... whatever the fuck it is that you still find valuable here. I didn’t think I’d have to clarify the circumstances of your stay, but for you to not even reach out.. and the fact you got some shitty, minimum wage job on top of it all, when you still have access to the saving account I’ve put in your name.. You really thought we were over? You haven’t even checked the news articles to see any updates on the case. I’ve been out for a week!”

He was still holding your face but his hands were shaking and the pressure was increasing again. He always pulls back and regains control over his temper before inflicting harm, but it’d be foolish to not expect him to one day lose that control. He’s hurt you on ‘accident’ before. He’s slaughtered many people, more than you’ll ever know to keep count. Nothing is sacred.

But now, you are a lot more contempt and able to tolerate the fear of him hurting you on impulse, being as Sweetpea was out of harms way and no longer in the room. You were still shaking though and had closed your eyes, bracing for it. But the jerk of shock only came when his suddenly lips covered your’s, and Jungkook finally backed away.

The kiss only lasted about three solid seconds before he pulled back, and was heavily panting through his nose. You dared to look up and caught a glimpse of the physical pain marring his features. His eyes had gone watery and his jaw began ticking like a time bomb, nostrils flaring and chest rising. He pressed his forehead against your’s and snaked his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck, trying to fight off his own sobs and choking on them more and more with each second.

“You hate me.. you haven’t even missed me.” His voice was so thickened by his emotions that it deepened the natural richness he already had, making it sound contorted and almost inhuman. A tear dropped down his nose bridge and hit your quivering lips, and for the life of you, you couldn’t fight back the heart wrenching burn it inflicted on you.

How could you still feel anything for this man? It can’t be. It just fucking can’t be..

But it was. You were so bewildered and petrified by the oncoming sympathy that it stunned you into a froze state of shock. He kissed you again, thinking it was a show of fear for own safety— and he was right to interpret the fear, but it was with different cause. He was steadily conjuring up feelings that you wished you could’ve watched burn, like you had intended to do with the rose your bus driver gave you. But here you were, heart bleeding for him.

You still didn’t reciprocate the kiss but it brought on more involuntary anguish.. you cried harder and so did he, and as he leaned your head back to kiss at your neck, you stared in perplexing awe at the gigantic bouquet of roses sitting on your nightstand.

“It’s okay. I‘ve missed you too fucking much to punish you now.” He calmed, and took a good 30 seconds to regain his composure. There was still a groggy undertone in his next words, but once again, he was back in his domineering mindset. “But I ain’t cutting you that much slack.”

You yelped when he suddenly shoved you back, straight into Jungkook for the nth time. He heatedly wiped at his eyes and stepped back, and it was the first time you took in how much more muscular and rigid he’d become over the years.

Before, he was a lot more slender and you’re certain that the very shirt he’s wearing now use to be at least 2 sizes too big on him before.. however, the black silk was skin-tight and clinging to the humps of his biceps, and straining around the buttons between his pectorals. His skin was more pale than ever before but now you could see a tattoo curving along his temple, arcing aside the edge of his pierced brow. The word that was written in elegant, cursive writing made your heart palpitate and your stomach twist even more.

Honey. That was your signature endearment. That was the name you’d given him in place of your real one the very night he met you, and asked for it.

This crazy motherfucker really is obsessed with you. How he can lie to you, deceive you, punish you and drive you fucking bonkers and stalk you down only in the act of what he calls love.. and for it to actually be a form of true—albeit dangerous love, was beyond you.

The scripture on his handsome, albeit matured face distracted you for a few seconds. You snapped out of it when Jungkook suddenly hauled you up by the midsection and slammed you down on the bed, pinning his hand down between your shoulder blades and rendering you defenseless.

“What are you doing? Taehyung! Please! Get him off of me!”

“If I could trust you to stay still, I would.” His voice was neutral again, despite a offhanded sniff. You struggled to look back, but it was no use as he was standing out of view.

“Stay still for what?”

“Do you still have your ring?” He asked instead, ignoring you.

“It’s in my nightstand drawer. Now tell me—“

“Told you she kept it,” Jungkook finally spoke— and just like it was back then, it was a very rare occurrence for when he did speak on your behalf. That’s another thing nobody else dared to do, unless asked. But knowing that he was the one stalking you for Taehyung made you all the more disturbed with him.

“Fucking creep. You’re hurting me!” you screamed at him, and he had the audacity to increase pressure. Tae said nothing, nor did he stop his friend from retaliating.

“I also know about your little affair with your coworker. Since when did you start swinging both ways?”

“What are you talking about?” You growled, and he only snorted in response.

“She knows you like her. She knows you stare at her ass every time she bends over and that you bend over on purpose to make her look at yours. She knows you like it when she slaps it.”

You, one again, went unmoving.

Jeon Jungkook is her fucking boyfriend.

“What does Jk even stand for?”

“Jackson. But he doesn’t like to be called Jackie, and you know how I am about nicknames. So I call him JK.”

“Don’t you fucking hurt her, Jungkook. You leave her alone. Tae, don’t you let him—“

“Don’t you worry about me.”

“BALEY?!”

Baley walked into view, an unreadable expression on her face. The mere realization of what was happening finally over filled your mental tolerance and you brain suddenly launched you away from reality.

The beach. You were at the beach with your cousins, all of you a little over the age of 18. You were on spring break your senior year in highschool and talking about the future. Graduation. Prom. College~

“She’s zoned out.” Baley said, and Jungkook finally let go. You were indeed paralyzed and had completely dissociated, talking to yourself. Taehyung, with a fully-loaded syringe in his hand, leaned over to look at your face. Your pupils were dilated, eyes stargazing in general, lips softly moving as you babbled nonsense. He hated knowing that it was coming to this, but he swore he’d earn your forgiveness.

“I’m gonna get your ear fixed.. or at least get you a better device. We’re gonna be okay. We’re so fucking rich now, I don’t even know what to do with all our money— only to turn it into more. I won’t have to work as much. We can get married, have the best fucking honey moon we can imagine. We can get started on a family. I’ll win your dog over, too. I promise.”

He sank the needle into your bicep, and you didn’t even flinch. Only blinked in rhythm as a tear fell.

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.” You incoherently muttered, having said that to your friend, Jessica, on the beach.

It was insensitive, but he couldn’t help but crack a grin at that. Whatever memory you were reliving at the moment, was quite sometime before you actually began your classes for such profession. He bent down and kissed your cheek one last time as he injected the entirety sedation serum into your system and pulled it out. But you were oblivious to it all.

“I think I’m smart enough...”

”You’re very book smart, baby. But you’re probably gonna drop out after three semesters and become a bar tender at a strip club, because you’re not fit to be a homicidal investigator. You’re too soft.”

“I’m not..”

“You sure?”

“I’m gonna be a forensic scientist, like Mawmaw wants me to be.”

“Well, you’re gonna become my wife before you become anything else.”

“Ew, don’t even play like that. You’re my cousin.”

“Jeez..” Baley muttered. “You really have driven her a little bat-shit, huh? This is way more disturbing than I anticipated—“

“Babe, lets go sit in the car. Come on,” Jungkook hurried, pulling her out of the room.

Taehyung continued to whisper sweet nothings into your deafened ear, but the last night you heard before it all went blank was the perfect, bittersweet saying that bidded you goodbye for the night.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Honey.”

#yandere society #bts #kim taehyung #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts x reader

848 notes · View notes

thewitchoftherock · 3 years

Text

01Q10

Please Enjoy this one shot about one of my Synths, 01Q10.

Every Synth was created to serve King Decon. 01Q10 wanted to serve King Decon to the best of their ability, which was the only proper path for a synth! They were certain, however, that there had to be something wrong with them.

How else could they work so hard and still fail?

During Physical training, which took up a whole third of their day, 01Q10 proved themself to be mediocre at best. They weren’t the worst synth in the training room, but they weren’t far off. The next part of the day was devoted to mental training.

How 01Q10 struggled during mental training. How they hated it. Every day they worked hard, strained their minds and gave themself a headache just trying to do half as well as the other synths. Every day, they failed. Every day, they were the worst performers. They looked around the training room at the other synths at their desks, who were working their way through their own puzzles. This work was supposed to be improving their minds and developing their problem-solving skills. This was supposed to be hard, but 01Q10 knew that they could grow because of it!

Why did they feel like they weren’t getting better? Had they done something wrong? King Decon did not create His synths to be stupid; had something happened to 01Q10’s mind? King Decon gave them everything they needed to thrive as His tools; failure was only a result of laziness in the body and mind.

01Q10 sighed as they looked at the puzzle before them. After trying and failing more than a dozen times they did what they always did when they got stuck. They stopped and waited, watching the surrounding synths to see what they were doing. Normally they could find someone else who had the same puzzle, and they could watch how they went through it.

This time, they couldn’t. Everyone else was too far ahead of them. They had lingered too long on this puzzle.

“Is there a problem, 01Q10?”

They froze as the sound of an Overseer rang through the room. Several synths turned to glance at them, and 01Q10 could feel their ears warm.

“No, Overseer.” 01Q10 said, refusing to turn around and look as they approached them from behind. They didn’t look up as the Overseer stopped at the side of their desk and looked over their puzzle. 01Q10 knew they were looking at the little timer that showed how long they had been working on this puzzle. They also knew that they had spent their entire period of mental training on this one puzzle.

Shameful for a synth; they should do better. They knew that.

The Overseer gave a derisive click of their tongue. 01Q10 glanced up then, and could see the disappointment in their ears. They stared at their desk as the Overseer walked away. Everyone around them went back to their own puzzles, ignoring the struggling synth.

It wasn’t fair. They tried their best, and they just couldn’t keep up with the others! It was like everyone else was just running along and 01Q10 was scrambling up a cliff and just holding on so they didn’t fall.

Their ears twitched down as they felt the tears sting at their eyes. They just wanted to be a good synth. They wanted to serve King Decon, but it was more than that. At worst, if they were too stupid for genuine work then they’d be assigned to maintenance here in the training center. If they were too stupid even for that, then they’d be reprocessed. Even being reprocessed was a way even the most useless synth could serve King Decon; the reuse of otherwise wasted organs could support a synth who was better, stronger, smarter.

01Q10 didn’t want to be reprocessed. They didn’t want to work in maintenance. They didn’t want to just serve King Decon. They wanted to be important.

A hand tapped at their arm. They jumped, unused to being touched at all. They forgot about the tears in their ears as they looked at the synth next to them.

Mostly, all the synths looked alike; none of them had any hair, their nose flattened out into a curved snout, their little darker blue upper lips seeming to point up to the center of their snout. They all had wings draped over their shoulders at most times. They all had big, black eyes and long ears, which outside of the general shape had a variety of slight differences that set them apart from one another.

This one was different, though. Their eyes seemed bigger than the others - or maybe that was because while everyone else seemed to go around with their eyes half closed - 01Q10 included- this one had their eyes opened wide. Their ears were also far rounder than 01Q10 was used to seeing.

It was a split second where they made eye contact, yet to 01Q10 it felt like days had passed as they swam in the darkness of that other synth’s eyes. They suddenly remembered the tears burning in their eyes. Ears burning with shame, they looked away and wiped their tears of frustration with their sleeve.

“Hey.” they whispered low enough that 10Q10 was certain that despite a synth’s excellent hearing, nobody else could hear, “I’m awful at this too.” They gave 10Q10 a quick smile and turned back to their own puzzle, leaving 01Q10 confused.

Nobody spoke to them. Nobody bothered to speak to them save for the Overseers when they got orders, and the officers who had taken them out of the tank only a few cycles ago.

Why did this one talk to them? Why had they been so kind to a such a failure? Why couldn’t they stop thinking about their deep eyes and their soft, curved ears?

======

Mealtime came after mental training. Hundreds of synths sat down and ate in the large, cavernous cafeteria every mealtime. There was no talking, normally. They sat, they ate in silence, and then they left. In this time, 01Q10 normally just ate as quickly as they could so that they could get away from the sound of chewing from those around them. They found the sound disconcerting.

They didn’t notice that the synth from earlier sat next to them until they spoke.

“Hi.” they said, smiling, “You are the one from earlier, right? From our mental training?”

01Q10 nearly let the little piece of cubed food fall from their mouth as they turned to see the synth with the soft round ears and the big eyes looking at them, a smile on their face and their ears up with happiness.

“Yes?” they said, confused. “Can I help you?”

“No. I just hoped I could sit with you.” they said. They smiled and picked at their food.

“Why?” 01Q10 asked before they could really consider it. They didn’t mind if this synth wanted to sit with them, but that just wasn’t something that Synths did! You simply sat where you sat; there was no point in waiting for a specific seat so that you could socialize. Even now, just because they were talking quietly, were other synths looking at them oddly.

The other synth tilted their head at 01Q10, who couldn’t help but notice how the overhead lights seemed to filter through the thinnest parts of their curved ears.

“I just wanted to sit with you.” they said. They had such a pleasant voice, and their speech held a cadence that no other synth seemed to have. Still, as pleasant as it was to listen to them, others were still staring. “I don’t mind if you wish to sit next to me.” 01Q10 said, keeping their voice as neutral as possible; just like the Officers and Overseers, “But please stop speaking.”

Their ears fell, a look of sadness flickered over their face, but lasted only a moment. They nodded and looked to their food.

“... What is your call number?” 01Q10 whispered as quietly as they could; they realized they had not seen the number on the front of their uniform yet.

“70H67.” They whispered back, “But I prefer DH.”

DH. DH? Why DH? They had call numbers. so why create something confusing to like ‘DH’ to replace it? Did they think there was something wrong with King Decon’s method of organizing them?

This 70H67 - this DH- was strange. They were dangerous. 01Q10 could feel it. This was the type of Synth that got corrected early on and ended up working in maintenance for the rest of their life. 01Q10 didn’t want to work in maintenance. They wanted to be better than that. As much as they wanted to be around DH, to hear them talk and to watch their soft, rounded ears move, they knew that if they wanted to serve King Decon, if they wanted to be important, they’d have to avoid them.

======

“Q10-”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Sorry.” DH’s ears flicked down, “01Q10, do you ever try to remember what happened in the tanks?”

01Q10 looked around suddenly, almost hurting their neck to make sure that nobody else was around. They were alone in the hallway, at least for the moment; at least as far as 01Q10 could see, anyway.

“I do not.” they said, “And you shouldn’t either.”

“But I do, though.” DH muttered.

Not for the first time, 01Q10 thought they had to put some space between themself and DH. There was something different about this one, and not in a good way. Some synths were different in ways that allowed them to solve puzzles faster, or fly better. Some could perform better in physical training. DH was just strange and underachieved as much as 01Q10 did. As much as they wanted to work hard and be important, there was a vague feeling of relief because if they ended up working in maintenance, then at least DH would likely be with them. At least they’d be able to listen to DH every day. At least they’d be able to see them. Maybe they’d work together. Maybe they’d be maintenance partners! Did maintenance synths have partners? 01Q10 didn’t know, but they hoped so. They’d have a lifetime of working and talking with DH, and enjoying their little touches here and there; a tap on the shoulder, a hand on the arm. It was a sad comfort at first, but over time it seemed more and more like a hope.

A terrible hope. They had to remind themself that they wanted better than that. They wanted to be important and serve King Decon.

As they walked towards the dormitories, they saw another synth turn the corner. The call number on their tag read 55H75, and 01Q10 recognized them immediately; they had seen them in their mental training class and appreciated how methodically they went over their puzzles; how they seemed to have a system to help them figure it out.

“You go on to the dormitories.” 01Q10 said to DH, “I wish to speak to this synth.”

55H75 stopped as they heard what 01Q10 said and looked over 01Q10 with an icy indifference - like they were looking over a piece of machinery.

“Alright...” DH said, their ears drooping down, “I’ll meet you there.”

DH walked off, giving a quick nod to 55H75 as they passed. The other synth made no sign of acknowledgement to the other.

“What do you want.” 55H75 said, their voice horribly deadpan compared to DH’s melodic tone, “If you wish to make small talk to me as you do the other one, I have no interest.”

“No.” 01Q10 said, trying to keep their ears still and their voice calm, “I admire how you work through your puzzles. I was hoping you’d show me how. I struggle with our mental training.”

“I have noticed.” 55H75 said. “And I have heard that in physical training, you’re mediocre.”

Despite their best efforts, they couldn’t help the way their ears pinned back in anger, how they burned with shame. “I do my best.” they said, “I only want to serve King Decon.”

“That is good, at least.” 55H75 said, “But I won’t help you.”

“Why not?” they took a step forward, feeling their wings puff up around them. Why wouldn’t this synth help them? “We all want to work for King Decon, yes? Helping one another is a part of that, is it not?”

“It is.” 55H75 said, “But I worry that spending my time on you would amount to wasted resources.”

Waste. A synth shouldn’t be wasteful! A synth was never wasteful! Was 55H75 implying that their very training was wasteful? It made 01Q10 shake with rage. “Why do you think such a thing!” They said, “I work hard! I -”

“You work hard, I acknowledge that.” 55H75 said, “But it amounts to very little when one looks at your performance. Worse than that, you associate with that one.”

“... That one?”

“70H67. They are dangerous. In the first cycle, two of those who spent time with them were sent for correction. Most others have been wise enough to avoid them since.” They walked past 01Q10, not bothering to bow their head, “Corrected or no, you will still be useful to King Decon; despite the negative effects that correction has on cognition, you might still have a use in maintenance. Regardless, that means that giving you my help would be a waste.”

They passed by them, continuing down the hall. 01Q10 turned, their ears pinning back, their lip curing up to reveal their pointed fangs as their wings puffed up around them, “I will not be corrected!” they snapped. They would not be corrected, no. They wanted to serve King Decon. Every synth had a use, but they wanted to be more useful than a maintenance synth.

They wanted to be important.

55H75 stopped and turned around. “That one is strange. Broken.” they said, “And you seem to enjoy their company. You seem to enjoy their eccentricities; how they like to touch. How they talk. I watch. I see.” They tilted their head at 01Q10, “It makes me think you are broken as well. Broken synths are corrected, or repurposed. It is nothing personal; it is just how it is.”

======

01Q10 didn’t see DH in the dormitories after that. They went straight to their sleeping pod, the tiny little container that they slept and studied in.

They didn’t want to see DH. Was 55H75 right? Would DH get corrected? Would they themself get corrected if they weren’t very careful? Would they get corrected for spending time with DH?

They didn’t want to get corrected.

They wanted to be important.

They wanted to spend time with DH.

They didn’t want to be corrected.

======

“What did I do?” DH asked the next day. 01Q10 hated it. They hated how sad DH sounded, and how confused they were. They had hoped that this would be a quick conversation as they walked from the cafeteria to the training room, but it seemed like it would take longer than they hoped.

“You… You talk too much.” 01Q10 said, “You touch too much. 55H75 said that you might be corrected. That I might be corrected! That I might be seen as broken as well.”

DH fell silent, their beautiful ears drooping down. “... Do you think I’m broken?”

“You…” They didn’t want to say that DH was broken. They didn’t think that DH was broken. “You are strange.” 01Q10 said, “And… and I want to work hard. I want to serve King Decon! I Want to be important-”

“You are!” DH said as they took a step towards 01Q10. They reached out to put a hand on their arm - an almost casual gesture by now- but 01Q10 pulled away. DH’s hand hung in the hair before they withdrew their arm and wrapped their wings tightly around themself.

“I need to improve.” 01Q10 said, “I need to get better. I cannot do that if you’re always… Always touching me and talking to me.”

They wanted to take it all back. DH’s ears drooped down so low, and they couldn’t ignore how their eyes watered.

“If I am silent.” DH said softly, “If I don’t speak as much, and if I don’t touch you, will you let me be around you?”

They were almost at the training room. They caught sight of a few synths already heading in, one of which was 55H75. The other synth looked at 01Q10, then at DH, then with their normal cold indifference they headed into the training room.

“I do not care what you do.” 01Q10 said, their voice becoming cold and deadpan as well, “It matters not to me.”

======

The training room was a large, empty room with a screen on one end. As they entered the room, they put on wristbands and ankle bands which would seem to increase in weight for certain exercises.

They took their places, a synth to each of the mats on the floor. The screen turned on, and the instructions began; stretch this, rotate that. Lift the arms. Spread the wings.

It continued on and on. DH was next to 01Q10, working silently as 01Q10 struggled. That was one thing they had noticed about DH: they were strong and seemed to be more aware of their body that 01Q10 was. They were more coordinated.

They were better.

Was this a synth that was strange or broken? Was this the synth that was going to get corrected? As they moved to pose on one leg with their arms spread out, they caught sight of 55H75, and remembered what they had said.

If DH was broken and strange, yet they were better than 01Q10 was… what did that make 01Q10? Were they strange as well? Was their best value to come if they were corrected?

Were they worthless to King Decon?

They stumbled as they thought that, fell forward, and collapsed to the ground. They didn’t hurt themself, but still they felt the tears burn at the corners of their eyes. It wasn’t fair! None of this was fair! They tried so hard, and they knew that they could be better! They knew they could improve! They knew they could do well and serve King Decon.

They wanted to be important!

“Are you ok?” It was DH, forgetting their promise to be quiet. They reached out and took 01Q10 by the arm. As they did so, 01Q10 saw 55H75 glance over at them.

That same deadpan look; dismissive. As though they were looking at nothing.

01Q10 was not nothing! They were not useless!

“Here, let me help y-“

“Do not touch me!” 01Q10 suddenly screamed as they pushed DH away. Their voice had so much anger in it that they scared themself. They were so startled that at first, they didn’t notice that they had knocked DH down. They noticed 55H75’s eyes still on them.

They needed 55H75 to teach them how to do the puzzles. They needed to get better. All they wanted to do was to serve King Decon.

They wanted to be important.

They stumbled to their knees, feeling the blood pounding in their head; A mixture of shame, frustration, and fear as they watched DH look at them with those big eyes, those rounded ears that were down so low now.

“Do not touch me.” 01Q10 said, making their voice as icy as possible. They were not broken, and they would prove it! “Do not come near me. I will teach you if I must.” They raised up their arm, preparing to strike the other with the added force of the weighted wristband.

They didn’t want to. They shouldn’t hit another Synth. Still, if this would get DH away from them.

They hesitated for just a moment, their hand hanging in the air. Did they want DH away from them? King Decon, or DH. What did they want more?

Before they could decide, another synth was standing between them and DH. 01Q10 didn’t really know this synth, but they knew of them. They had 09T07 on their tag. They like to talk, like DH. However, they were also skilled in flight, and did well in physical training.

“I do not see how this helps.” 09T07 said, “You should not attack King Decon’s property.”

Who was this synth? Who were they to tell them how to act? They were no better than 01Q10 was! Did they think for a moment that they were?

“That one is broken.” They snapped, “They talk of foolish, needless things. They keep loitering around me for no reason. They keep touching me- grabbing my arm to gain my attention, I tell them to stop. They pick lint off my uniform, I tell them to stop. Now, I fall down and they rush to grab me and pull me up. They do not listen. I will teach them to listen.”

“You will do no such thing.’

“And who are you to tell me what I will and will not do?”

“I am simply one who has learned their place.” 09T07 said, “And I know that we are not to attack one another. Injury would hinder development, and create problems for King Decon.”

Who was this synth? Why did they care what happened to DH? Had they been friends with DH before? DH had never mentioned them! Why did 01Q10 care if they had or not?

The door to the training room opened. 09T07 helped DH up, and without another word to 01Q10, they took DH away. The other synths around them settled down and get back to their training. They had stopped and had watched to see if there would actually be violence among synths. Now that nothing would happen, they went back to their training.

01Q10 watched DH, hoping that they would look back at them.

They wanted to be important.

They wanted to be important to DH.

DH never looked back.

======

If you want to learn more about 01Q10, please check out Synth at

#Synth #angst #Drama #insecurity #non-binary #scifiworld #sciencefiction #dystopia

17 notes · View notes

writer-k-pop · 4 years

Text

The Bookseller (j.w.w) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.8k / Ending B - 4.7k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"And there's a problem with one of the elevators." Jiwoo says sheepishly and I close my eyes in frustration, a scowl growing on my face.

Stopping in the middle of the hall, I look up at the ceiling and pucker my lips together. "What's next? The front doors break?" I say up to the Gods, not caring if they are actually listening or not.

Jiwoo raises his eyebrows at me, "You wanna be challenging them like that?"

I lower my gaze to him and narrow my eyes, "I will do as I please."

Jiwoo holds up his hands in surrender.

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself again, "Add it to the maintenance list and I'll wrestle with it tomorrow." I instruct him.

"Will do." Jiwoo nods and we continue on our way.

"Is he still with Soon Bok?" I ask him, getting tired of hearing only the sounds of our shoes hitting the flooring.

"Yes, she should be finishing the tour and should be heading to his room." Jiwoo answers just before we hit a more open area and guests mill past us.

"What room?" I ask, ignoring most of the guests even though they offer polite smiles.

"Number 177." Jiwoo informs me. "The one with the huge book shelf wall."

I smile, already knowing the answer to my thought, "Well, let's hope he enjoyed books in his ..." I look at him to finish my sentence.

"Oh," Jiwoo quickly realizes what information I'm searching for, "6 lives."

I nod, "Pretty average. But let's hope he enjoyed books in at least some of his 6 lives."

Jiwoo shrugs, "If not, it's a nice aesthetic wall."

I pat him on the shoulder, "I'm glad you think it's good for staring at. Because I definitely spent hours picking each book so that it could be just a good photo opportunity." I finish sarcastically.

"Not everyone's a reader." Jiwoo rolls his eyes.

"They should be." I retort.

"Anyway..." Jiwoo changes the subject as we reach the edge of the lobby, "Will you be joining the us for the celebration this weekend?”

I open my mouth to give my regular 'no' answer but two males cut me off. They barrel through the front office doors, a brunette following a few steps behind a blonde one. Both seem angry and on edge.

"I saw you with my girl!" The brunette shouts.

"I don't what you saw, man, but I was never WITH your girl." The blonde one responds and flicks a certain unpleasant finger behind him, "So leave me the fuck alone."

The lobby slowly gets quiet and not a soul moves, not even me or Jiwoo. Jiwoo out of fear and me cause I kind of want to see where this leads.

The brunette jogs ahead of the blonde and forces him to stop, "Just tell me why you were with my girl and then I'll leave you the fuck alone." The brunette seethes.

"Dude." The blonde holds out his hands, "We're best friends. Why would you think I'd be with your girl? Do you really think that low of me?"

"You know, after the stunt you pulled with Henry, I wouldn't put it past you." The brunette spits.

The blonde gets right up in the brunette's face and presses finger into his chest, "None of that was my fault. I was the one who got played and yet everyone seems to believe otherwise."

"The evidence is pretty clear." The brunette grits his teeth.

Jiwoo slowly leans over as if any faster and the men's radar would latch onto him. "Shouldn't you do something?" He whispers.

I shrug and look at him, "They're only yelling right now. I don't have to do anything until the-"

The sound of someone crashing against a column cuts me off. I look over and find the brunette pushing off of the pillar, anger steaming off of him. The blonde drops into a fighting stance.

Sighing, I uncross my arms, "Now I do something." I mumble, quite annoyed that they would cause such a scene when they're dead. It's not like they could kill each other here.

I stalk closer to the brawling men who now have a fistful of each other's shirts. When I'm a few steps away, I clear my throat loudly to get their attention.

They both glance at me for a second before returning to staring at each other.

"Leave us alone, sweetheart." The blonde says lowly.

"This is none of your business." The brunette adds.

I scoff, "Actually, this is entirely my business seeing as you are acting ridiculous in my hotel."

The men land a few punches on each other but remain close.

"You want to kill each other?" I wonder but the men don't answer, "You're already dead so there's no point in trying."

Both men pause, look at me, then back at each other. And a new kind of fury is awoken in them.

"YOU GOT ME KILLED?" They both scream just as I was thinking they were going to back down.

They begin going at each other again but this time with more anger and all I can do is groan. After giving them a couple seconds, I walk towards them to pull them apart. I grab both of their arms and before I can 'magically' send them flying away from each other, the men swing the arms I'm grabbing. With their combined force aimed at my stomach, I'm sent skidding backwards on my side across the floor.

When I finally stop sliding, I jump to my feet, ready to kick both of their asses. But when I look up, Mun Hee is restraining the blonde one while the brunette is being shoved backwards by a guest.

"Hey, cool down man. Cool down." The guest says and my ears instantly recognize his voice: Wonwoo's.

"(y/n), you okay?" Jiwoo jogs over to my side, worried.

I swat at my pants, "I'm fine." I answer him without taking my eyes off of Wonwoo as he stands in front of the brunette male.

"You probably shouldn't have told them they were dead." Jiwoo states and I shoot him a glare. He frowns and nervously glances around the lobby.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" I clasp my hands behind my back and look at the brunette then the blonde with cold eyes. They both instantly realize they may have screwed up and lower their defenses.

"If you would've actually stopped to look at where you were, you would've stopped at the front desk and understood what was going on." I explain as they step closer, Wonwoo and Mun Hee not far behind. "And what is going on is that you both have died. Congrats." I give them a sarcastic smile. "And unfortunately, your souls don't have another life lined up so." I gesture to the hotel, "You have come here to greet your past lives once more before heading to the place where your soul will rest peacefully.... Hopefully." I say, mumbling the last word in disgust.

The men look at each other in a bit of shame and embarrassment.

"From my understanding," I continue, "You both died because you were fighting over some bitch-"

"She's not a bitch." Both males cut me off with the same sentence before sharing a menacing look which has Mun Hee and Wonwoo on alert for another fight.

"And you walked right into the street, where, well you know." I finish, ignoring their intrusion. My words sink in and they both soon realize that I'm being serious and am not joking, which turns them somewhat somber.

"So what do we do?" The blonde asks.

"You go get assigned a room, stay here for the duration of your lives, and then get the hell out of my hotel." I snarl. "Oh, and stay out of my sight. I'm already annoyed with you two."

"Oh, actually." Mun Hee chuckles and raises a hand, "He's supposed to go to Hotel Blue Moon." He points to the blonde male who's eyes widen.

"What is that?" The blonde asks, afraid it might be somewhere along the lines of hell. And man do I wish that is true.

I glower at the lobby wall, "It's the place where souls go before living another life." I say, ready to have a very strong word with the Gods.

"What about me?" The brunette wonders, glancing at me like he’s afraid to be left here in my hotel.

"Can I see your palm?" Mun Hee steps forward and examines the man's palm. "Hmm... You too. You're not supposed to be here."

With my annoyance nearing my tolerance levels, I turn away from the small group but before I walk away, I tell them, "Get out of my hotel."

Without waiting for them to respond, I walk away hoping for silence so I can mentally scream profanities at the Gods and Hotel Blue Moon. But instead of silence, I hear footsteps following me.

I run a hand through my hair and turn to face the idiot following me.

And by idiot, I mean the man who let me sit in his book store for hours and the man I loved.

"Hi, sorry." Wonwoo nervously rubs the back of his neck, "Uh, I was just headed to the library." He makes up an excuse.

I press my lips together then point back the way we had come, "The library is back that way." I inform him.

He turns around and I use the chance to slip down an unknown hallway, hidden by a tapestry.

"Actually, I was..." I hear Wonwoo turn back around, "Going to ask if you were okay." He finishes before sighing.

I turn my head to the side and look down at the floor, listening to his footsteps retreat back towards the lobby. Part of me feels kind of bad for ditching him like that but another part of me doesn't want to get close to him until he's the soul I knew.

Which is going to take 6 days.

~The Sixth Day~

"What's wrong with you?" I ask Mun Hee who is laying on my couch, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"The Wonwoo guy asked me to bring him a bunch of supplies last night." He groans and I walk to my desk to add some more files to my growing stack.

"What kind of supplies?" I question and lean back against my desk.

"Books, paper, glue, binding, and some book covers if we had them." Mun Hee says and I chuckle because of course Wonwoo would want those supplies.

He was a bookseller when I knew him but he cared for books just as much and found a lot of joy in fixing old books.

"Ugh. My shoulders are killing me." Mun Hee rolls his shoulders backwards.

"You're already dead." I remind him.

"Way to shoot a man while he's down." Mun Hee sasses.

I shrug. "Eh."

"So much love." Mun Hee mutters.

I chuckle and move to sit in my desk. But before I can, the door opens and Yong pops just her head in.

"Hey, Wonwoo's in the garden." She informs me and I nod with a smile, "And have you seen Mun Hee? He disappeared a while ago and I haven't seen him anywhere."

I point to the couch and Yong steps into my office to look, "Right there."

"Mun Hee!" Yong raises her voice a touch, "Get back to work. Goodness, I am not your mother."

Mun Hee rises to his feet, "Feels like it sometimes." He grumbles and then follows Yong out of my office.

When I step into the hall, I hear their echos of laughter floating farther away. After securely closing my office doors, I turn down the hallway and head for the elevators. I rock back and forth in my heels anxiously while the elevator slowly approaches my floor. The elevator finally arrives and opens its doors. I quickly rush inside and furiously press the lobby floor button.

"Come on." I encourage it to go faster but hey, like everything else about this hotel, it doesn't listen to me.

Eons later, the elevator reaches the lobby and releases me from its squared hold. I rush out and nearly run into Jiwoo.

"Woah, hey, where's the fire?" He wonders as I continue past him.

"Can't keep my man waiting." I throw a wave at him over my head and his only response is laughter.

About halfway down the hall, I pause to control my breathing and straighten out my dress. After I'm satisfied with the way I look, at least the way I think I look, I walk the last little bit to the garden.

Peeking in, the midnight moonlight illuminates the area with a crisp, clean look. The bare tree somehow looks less dead but only very slightly. The usually hidden bench is out in front of the tree and its subsequent chrysanthemums. And sitting on the bench, with his nose buried in a book as per usual, is Wonwoo. A simple broad striped sweater hugs his shoulders and his glasses sit prominently on his nose. With one leg bent over the other and the book in his hands, he looks like the perfect gentleman.

"Took you long enough." Wonwoo comments and turns to the next page of his book, "I nearly finished three chapters while waiting for you."

I roll my eyes and walk around the bench, "I had things to do, Mr. I-can-read-500-pages-in-5-hours."

"That's a bit exaggerated." He closes one eye in thought but then breaks out into a smile. "Come here." Wonwoo grabs my hand, pulls me down, and securely wraps me in a hug. He doesn't care that his place in the book is lost as the front cover closes shut.

I chuckle and snuggle close into him.

"I missed you." He breathes out after a bit of silence.

"I did too." I mumble into his chest. "I'm sorry for leaving."

Wonwoo shrugs and I readjust to be sitting properly. "It was what it was. I'm just glad to know that you weren't dead."

"Well, I can't exactly die." I give him a silly smile and nod towards the tree.

"I know that now." Wonwoo says a smile on his own lips. The smile that knocked me off my feet every day.

"What were you reading?" I ask, glancing at the book now in his lap.

Wonwoo picks it up and holds it out in front of us. "The one I've read a million times."

I squint my eyes in thought, "You've read a lot of books a million times, so which one is it?"

Wonwoo chuckles and knowing that I can still make him laugh with my mundaneness makes me very happy. "Sherlock Holmes." He says, setting the book aside.

"Is it still fun to read after the first time?" I wonder.

"Of course it is." Wonwoo answers as if I lost my marbles. "You get to go back and pick up on details that you missed during the first read."

"Yeah, but you have to read it all again." I give a small, shy smile.

"But you would rather spend all your time staring at me while I read." Wonwoo stretches out his arms arrogantly.

I hit his chest playfully and he retracts his arms while laughing.

"I heard you're the reason Mun Hee was in my office complaining about his back." I say following a groove in the tree with my eyes.

"Am I? Oh, is it from all the stuff I asked him for?" Wonwoo wonders then clicks his tongue, "I told him I could help if it was a lot. But he said he was fine so I just sat in my room."

"Sounds like something Mun Hee would do." I nod my head, "How did you like your room by the way?"

Wonwoo smiles contently, "I loved it. The wall of books was beautiful. You had all my favorites in there." He nudges my shoulder with his shoulder.

"Took me ages to find all of them. Some of them were quite old." I say with a slightly apologetic look.

But Wonwoo shakes his head, "Don't worry. I fixed them all."

I look at him in wonder, "You fixed all of them?" I ask.

He nods, "Yeah, most of them just needed some binding repairs and the rest weren't that hard to repair."

"So that's why you asked for the supplies and broke Mun Hee's back." I realize though I should've realized sooner.

Wonwoo laughs and my heart flutters happily at the sound. "That's why I needed the supplies."

"You didn't read all of them in that time, did you?" I double check and give him a questioning look.

He boops my nose and scrunches his face at me, "No I didn't. It took me a whole lifetime to read all those books."

"A whole lifetime." I repeat his words.

"How did you even find all those?" Wonwoo asks, playing with my hand, "I read most of those after you left."

I smile bashfully, "I kind of guessed."

'You guessed?" Now Wonwoo gives me the questioning look.

"After I left, I just kind of kept an ear open in the book world and sometimes I would come across a book that just felt like you would really enjoy. So I brought it back and started a collection in that room."

"But other guests use that room." Wonwoo pouts, feeling kind of jealous that other people would've read those books before him.

"Nah, only the right touch can get certain books off the shelf." I tell him with a knowing smile, "I made sure that no one but you or I would be able to read the special ones. To every other guest, it's just a really aesthetic wall."

"Well, look at my girl go." Wonwoo says smugly.

"So." I say, wanting to change the topic.

"So?" Wonwoo responds, turning his body slightly to face more towards me.

"I wanna know..." I pause.

"Mmhm?" He nods once, encouraging me to keep speaking.

"Did you end up married to your books or did some lucky girl come and steal your heart?" I ask with a genuine smile of curiosity.

Wonwoo chuckles but I notice the light behind his eyes dims ever so slightly. His chuckle dies down but he doesn't say anything. Instead he just looks at the tree, contemplating.

"You know I'm not mad if you did move on." I clarify, "I honestly wanted nothing more than for you to be happy and I wanted you to find it after I left. You deserved that happiness."

I know Wonwoo hears me because he chews on the inside of his cheek but he still doesn't say anything.

"What you didn't deserve was falling into the pain of me and my punishment." I say apologetically, "It happened to twelve others and I never for a moment thought any of you deserved that pain."

Wonwoo wraps an arm around me and pulls me close again, "Oh, it's not your fault. It's that damn demon's and trust me if I ever get the chance to meet it, I will get revenge for what it did to you." He presses a kiss to my temple before whispering. "I did marry."

I smile and ignore the slight pain slicing through my heart. Even though my words about wanting his happiness are true, it still stings.

"I met her like 5 or 6 years after you left." Wonwoo recalls and the memories sparkle in his eyes, "She first started coming in and reading her own books. Then she'd come in and read the books I had on the shelves. Then she started to watch me while I repaired books."

"That must've been awkward." I giggle.

"It was at first." Wonwoo agrees, "But then she did something and I knew she was supposed to be in my life."

"What'd she do?" I ask, intrigued.

"Remember the first edition book you and I repaired together?" He wonders.

I nod, "How could I forget that? I was finding glue in random places for weeks."

Wonwoo chuckles at the memory, "You're the one knocked over the glue can."

"You're the one who put it on the edge of the table." I banter back.

"Anyway." Wonwoo squeezes my arm, "I kept it in a showcase box near the back of the store. Hardly anyone asked about it and those who did only wondered if it was for sale. But she, she inspected it and then asked if I had put it together."

"And what did you tell her?" I probed.

"I told her that I had repaired with someone special. I think she could see or hear the bit of sadness in my voice cause she didn't dig deeper." Wonwoo explains, "So then I asked her what made her think that we'd done it by hand. And she," He laughs, "She said cause the back cover was crooked and on the part that poked out, she could see some writing. Somehow made out my name."

I chuckle and think back to the night we stayed up for hours trying to decide what to write there. Like it was our will that would go down in history as the most important document ever. The warm tea cup in my hands and the burning candles that painted the room in rustic comfort.

"And then that was that really. We dated for a while, got married. and then we raised three kids." Wonwoo continues his story.

"Three kids?" I inquire.

Wonwoo nods proudly, "Three. Changkyun was my oldest then came the twins, Soyou and Lisa. Changkyun protected the girls well and the girls grew up tough all thanks to him."

"Nah, I'm sure you had a large part in that too." I reassure him. "You were always tougher than I. Even in future lives." I reference the first day of his stay.

"Oh, I totally was going to ask you if you were okay that day, but you just disappeared." Wonwoo remembers and pouts that he didn't get the chance to ask then. "Part of the punishment I'm guessing."

"Actually I don't know. I never really tried so I don't know if it's against the rules or not." I admit. "But I, uh, I didn't want to find out."

Wonwoo gives me an understanding look, "Totally understand. It couldn't have been easy being stuck here for all those years."

"For the first hundred years, it was awful." I tell him, "But after that, I grew numb to the passing of time. It just kind of happened like that."

"So while you were numb to time, I was terribly sensitive to the passing of time." Wonwoo ponders the thought.

"Kids grow up too fast?" I guess.

Wonwoo looks at me with confusion cause how am I supposed to know what it's like to have kids.

"I overhear guests chatting with each other and a big part of the conversations are kids and how they just grow up so fast." I explain pointing a thumb behind us towards the hotel.

"Ah, I see." Wonwoo murmurs, "But yeah. They just kept growing and then all of a sudden, my wife and I were empty nesters and then a second later, we had grey hairs on our heads and grand babies in our arms. Completely crazy."

I giggle at his amazement, "So what did your kids end up doing?" I ask and he dives into the stories of his children and his life with them.

I sit and listen to his low voice tell the tales of the bookstore, how some years the store would be overrun with teens and then next year it would be filled with fresh out of college adults. He immerses himself in the ocean of stories from his life while I float along the with the waves and let his voice take me through the stories.

All too soon, though, the setting sun freezes the ocean and my tree's crooked branches set me back in reality.

"The setting sun always represented an end with another beginning." Wonwoo stares at the western windows where the last rays of sunlight are slowly being swallowed up by the night. "But this one is just an end."

I stare at his face, hoping to memorize all the pieces I missed before. Like he does during a second or third read of a book.

"For your worldly soul, it's an end." I say, "But for your true soul, it's the start of an eternity of peace."

"What do you think happens on the other side?" He asks, looking back at me.

I give a small shrug, "I don't know, but you'll find out today and someday I'll find out too."

"Could it be like the books?" Wonwoo wonders.

"Depends on which book." I tell him with a tender smile.

"Touché." He tilts his head. "You know," He leans closer to me, "I know I have to go, but I really don't want to." Wonwoo giggles.

I laugh before pressing a kiss to his cheek, "But we do." I remind him, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice.

Wonwoo sighs, "We do." He repeats and stands up before helping me up. "Were you always this fashionable?" He asks after looking me up and down.

I raise my eyebrows, "Uh, yes, and fashion has changed since we were together."

Wonwoo grabs my hand and swings it between us as we walk, "Well, the change looks absolutely stunning on you."

The lobby is quiet as the hotel's opening hours are just around the corner. We quickly make it to the back door and like a gentleman, Wonwoo opens the door for me.

The cool night air rushes by us and we both stand on the landing just taking in the scene.

"Remember the night by the river?" Wonwoo wonders when he starts walking towards the forest, Shin, and the car that will take him.

"The night when you said you loved me?" I ask and he nods, "The air feels the same, doesn't it?"

"Exactly the same. " Wonwoo nods, gripping my hand tighter. "Do you think the Gods are doing this on purpose?"

I look up at the dark sky that's littered with tiny little lights from thousands of miles away. "At this point, I'm certain everything that happens to me is because they," I point upwards, "Want it to happen."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to thank them for letting me happen to you." Wonwoo smiles and I feel his eyes on me.

Lowering my gaze, I meet his gaze, "But I caused you pain. Like freakishly awful pain."

Wonwoo shrugs, "Still don't regret meeting you." He says as we reach the car.

Shin has the door open and is waiting patiently.

"This is the end of my worldly journey then." Wonwoo comments, glancing at the forest and its fog.

"Now you can rest. Forever." I place my hands on his cheeks and he rests one of his on top of mine.

"You know, hearing it now, it isn't as scary as I initially thought." He says a placid smile on his lips.

I kiss him through a smile, "Says the man who would be willing to jump from the highest heights just for the thrill." I mumble against his lips.

"Answer me this, will you?" He asks and rests his forehead against mine. I nod and he asks, "If you were to have met me without a punishment, would you have stayed with me?"

I stare into his eyes and move to rest my arms on his shoulders, "Till the very end." I say with honesty rallying behind me.

"That's all I need to hear." Wonwoo says then presses another kiss to my lips. When he pulls away, his eyes are glossy but I know he won't cry. "I love you, (y/n)." He whispers.

"I love you too." I tell him, feeling my own eyes fill with tears.

Wonwoo pulls away and lowers himself into the car. After Shin shuts the door behind him, the car drives into the fog.

The tires crunch over the gravel road and Shin stops next to me.

"That was the bookseller?" He asks.

I nod, a tear slipping down my cheek.

"He was a good man. He shall be very comfortable." Shin reassures me and walks back into the hotel.

With Shin gone, I let the tears fall freely. Letting the tears fill with the sadness and pain of being left then let them fall and land wherever they please. My heart cracks into a million pieces and it takes everything within me to keep it from exploding into more pieces. It is then that a white chrysanthemum withers away in my garden.

After a while, the moon has risen high into the sky and my tears have dry though my heart hasn't stopped aching. But even now, I have a hotel to run and others to wait for. So I run my hands through my hair, detangling it, and wipe away the left over tears. Just as Wonwoo always told me, I straighten out my shoulders, hold my head level, and walk back into the hotel with purpose.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"Did you ever think today would come?" Wonwoo wonders.

"I knew it would come but I just could never definitively say when it would come." I tell him, "Like when an author has a story and a perfect plot in their mind but putting it on paper is harder than imagined and they’re not sure if the story will ever leave their mind."

“Good analogy.” Wonwoo chuckles, “Come on. Your story has left the author's mind." We stand up together and I instantly grab his hand. Like a child latching onto their favorite toy.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"Hey, Mun Hee." Wonwoo calls out, "I would've helped you with the supplies. You didn't have to carry them by yourself and hurt your back."

Mun Hee vigorously shakes his head, "No, no. I didn't hurt myself, I'm just sore. I haven't worked my body like that in ages." He gives excuses.

"Well, you should start again. Who knows what other guests will request." Wonwoo advises and Mun Hee gives him a thumbs up.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks and looks at me with tears appearing in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears and I hear Wonwoo chuckle behind me.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Wonwoo grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Wonwoo and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car, a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Wonwoo softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Wonwoo securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

#kpop #kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen wonwoo imagine #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo imagine #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #writer-k-pop #waning crescent hotel

25 notes · View notes

the-roanoke-society · 3 years

Note

Is there any way you could tell us about Former Technical Officer Drake? (The one that uses Tom Holland as a face claim?) Like what happened to him that made him become a Former officer?

let’s talk about jude shepard.

and note, that i can’t talk about jude shepard without also speaking of where he died.

it isn’t often i get to tell a story that begins in one decade and ends over a century earlier.

details of violence, sci-fi-induced stressful situations and implied gore and body horror below the cut. proceed with caution.

turn back the clock to 1996.

jude—that is, drake, at the time—was one of the youngest people ever to be brought onto the basement crew. our watchers pinged him at just 14 for showing exceptional aptitude to what i would best describe as technomancy. the phrase ‘wiz kid’ was used often, and seriously. but, the then-wyvern—justine—knew that lilith wouldn’t bend on recruitment rules. she waited patiently until jude was old enough and immediately “adopted” him as a mentee.

our gate had been completely built by this time. at least, an early version of it.

but we knew way less then, than we do now.

and what we know now, we’re realizing, is still precious little.

i wish that i could tell you what happened to jude was significant. i wish i could say that it was meaningful, that it happened for a just cause. i wish i could say that for the handful of officers our homemade portal has swallowed over the decades.

but—well.

a year and a month. that was how long jude had existed fully in his role, fully as drake. justine trusted him completely, why wouldn’t she? he passed training with flying colors, of course he did, that genius born out of the bronx, maybe he’d graduate to her title someday, of course, why not, he’d make a great leader—

so of course he could do routine maintenance by himself.

of course, his hands would never slip and puncture the wrong wire, triggering an instantaneous opening that would have felt like stepping into a sauna turned way too high.

of course, he would never be snapped up, as though raptured.

but they did. and he was.

now, the good news, what slivers of it were to be found, were that we did trace his landing point.

the bad news—he wasn’t in north america in the 1990s.

he was in 19th century prussia.

and the worse news—which everyone knew was the worse news as soon as they saw lilith’s expression shift when she realized the coordinates—was where exactly in prussia he’d been spat out. it was why we couldn’t pull him back, even after repairing the gate’s puncture. why we couldn’t get a push signal to re-generate to the same point.

brennenburg castle.

she recognized it, of course she did.

alexander.

“lady,” lilith began. her eyes didn’t leave the screen, didn’t leave the green dot blinking in russia. “will you please get brosnya on the phone.”

when was it that she’d last spoken to yekatarina, the head of the order of snow and sun? a year ago? two? five?

because of the atrocities committed in that castle, the order is very—protective, of that particular parcel of land. today, as it was then, it’s heavily warded, and regularly observed. the structure itself still stands, condemned and rotting.

lilith had always run on the assumption that, surely, they’d sent field agents down into the castle’s interior to clear it. to make sure that nothing was left behind that shouldn’t be, like say—a proverbial open door.

an exquisitely, ridiculously dangerous open door.

but she still had a sense of decorum, and wasn’t about to point blank ask for some kind of verification as if it was owed to her. after all, the heaviest parts of that investigation would have been years and years earlier.

surely, they had.

surely.

but the unfortunate truth was that there wasn’t much to be done. alexander’s property was cursed, and that curse was powered by something far bigger, and far older, than us. jude was doomed as soon as he hit the ground.

the gate is our homemade doorway. we made it ourselves.

the orb that lilith desperately hoped was in the order’s protective custody, the entire reason behind the castle’s ruin? was built by something like a god. or gods. we’re—we’re not sure.

but it’s not our fault that research is limited.

remember another time we had someone try his hand at technomancy?

remember the time we hit a wall?

turns out that there is a way behind it after all.

remember, there was never any doubt that it wasn’t a wall, and a wall is not a wall without the other side.

if what had happened at brennenburg castle was anything like the world beyond the wall, lilith had zero desire for us, or any other agency, to go there.

more recently, dohbar has been sending her updates. there are seven orbs. “it’s all set up like spokes on a wheel, diana. spokes on a wheel. are we turning? where we are going? how many spokes? and where is the hub, you think? what could possibly lie at the center of something so vast? so ancient? what do you think, diana?” he was getting worse every month. she could see it in his writing. she knew ness was watching him, but not in the role of distant, mournful witness, not like she was watching him.

we have evidence that alexander managed to secure at least a beginning signal, an initial push, to this other plane.

we have no evidence that it was successfully destroyed—beyond the order’s word.

but lilith wondered.

justine was heart-broken, which is why the handle was retired for fifteen years, even as her title passed to jeremy, who followed protocol out of respect—up until he actually met drake and it felt a little too much like a ‘stars aligning’ moment.

a clever cover story was crafted for the benefit of jude’s parents. one that made his ending quick, easy. pure accident. pure fate. pure whatever would bring them peace.

lilith didn’t know it. she wept, god, how she cried, for nights, praying for the first time in what seemed like lifetimes to anybody, please let it have been quick. please let it have been easy. please let him be in peace. please let it have been quick— a never-ending mental prayer chain, timed with her heartbeats, with her jagged breaths. because she knew it had been none of those things. she knew this for a fact. but she whispered into her hands anyway, cupping her own pleas like water to offer to the universe for just this one thing.

at least... as much peace as they could offer at the price of a body. there was nothing to bury. nothing to burn. “we’re sorry. he is gone.”

they bought a plot anyway. they upturned the soil, (”ned--neddy? honey, is this--are we breaking the law?” “oh they wouldn’t dare touch this flower bed, analiese. it’s--it’s the principle of the thing!”) planting begonias. jude’s favorite flower. and yes, he has a tombstone, calling him by his names: jude levi shepard. beloved son. beloved friend. beloved, beloved, beloved.

jude was “buried” in between his paternal and maternal grandparents in a cemetery in long island.

annabelle has a saved photo on her phone from drake of the view from jude’s garden, looking at the city’s skyline.

10 notes · View notes

nurseofren · 3 years

Text

TW: body dysmorphia, body talk, binge eating, disordered eating, my mother, fatphobia, depression, weight mention

It runs deep and it starts so early.

I feel I should write this without generalizing, as I think body dysmorphia/binge eating/eating disorders are very personal and individual experiences, so I don’t want to group anyone into this.

So I guess I’ll start off with why I felt the need to get this out of my head: eating.

Eating hasn’t been an experience focused around nourishing my body in a long time. Eating is something very touchy for me. It has been even more so this past year. And I’ll get into that.

But I’ll just describe it as how it feels right now. It’s like this big secret. It’s something shameful. It’s something to hide. Because no matter the portion size, it feels like I’m doing something wrong.

“You are all of that?”

“Do you feel sick? You didn’t take that much food.”

As someone who detrimentally tried to please everyone, who tries to read the room and scope out the correct action, it’s been very confusing.

I have to bring up my mother. Because as much as I wish one issue didn’t involve her, I’m finding that’s true very little of the time.

She cooks for the family. Always has. And I was scorned for not eating something. Even if I didn’t like it, it would always end in “you are a stubborn child. You are a picky eater. You’ll eat what I make or you can make a peanut butter sandwich. I just suck, don’t I? Why do I even bother?”

So it’s confusing as a grown woman living with her parents — a situation I’m working toward changing soon, hoping for next Fall — to be told that i don’t have to clear my plate. And then I can not eat something and I’ll still get the aforementioned comments, but it’s not forced on me like it was when I was young.

It’s these learned behaviors that were expected of me at a young age that fester and leave me vulnerable to fits of BD, BE.

And then there’s another level to it.

“No we’re not getting [fast food establishment], none of us (i. e. my family who is fat) need that anyway”

“You only need a super small piece, it’s so rich”

“Those clothes weren’t made for big girls”

*justification of eating a meal because a prior meal was skipped*

“Those shorts look a little tight”

“Big girls shouldn’t do cheerleading, it’s embarrassing”

“No we’re not getting dessert! None of us need it, anyway!”

My mother is fat. I’m fat. I grew up fat with a fat mother. But I grew up fat with a fat mother who hates herself. Who called herself ugly and depreciated herself every chance she got. I grew up in a house where it was expected to cover your body, to wear baggy clothes, to buy clothes because they fit and not because you liked them.

And I could go on a full tangent on how this runs even deeper. How my mother views herself as a lost cause, who deems herself unlovable or unworthy of being loved because of her body — and how, ultimately, I never learned how to take care of myself because she never took care of herself.

Calling women high maintenance because they got their nails done, because they scheduled hair appointments, because they bought shoes and clothes they loved more than once bi-annually. And as a kid, I obviously wanted to believe my mother.

So I saw these women with pretty painted nails, and I saw them with their daughters who were my age, I saw these pretty girls with the nice nails and the skill in makeup, and I thought I was above them. But really I was just so buried under the self hatred of someone else that I didn’t see that those people did those things because they cared what they looked like, that they saw it was important to take care of themselves in a way that let them feel good.

And I was jealous. I was jealous because my mother never taught me how to paint my nails. Angry that I wasn’t worth the time for her to learn how to braid. Jealous of these other girls who tanned and were always polished. And then there was always me, biting my nails off every week in the shower because I didn’t know how to trim my nails.

But anyway, see I knew I’d tangent off w that topic, I have a very interesting relationship with my own body. Now.

I truthfully didn’t start really actively taking care of myself until early this year. I’d go months without shaving. I had no skin care routine. I would go days without brushing my teeth (which honestly is my very prominent sign of depression, when I stop brushing at all when I have nowhere to go and I’m still working on changing that).

In short, my outward appearance was very much for someone who loved me. And I never had one, so I didn’t see the point in keeping up with these routines. Why should I take care of my body if nobody is caring for it?

And last year I’d lost some weight by changing my diet, so people complimented that. And it just cemented to me that people only care about you when you’re smaller. People only positively notice you when you are skinny or slimming down.

So. I gained that weight back. I accidentally weighed myself at work last week and had it confirmed. I’m at my heaviest in probably two years. And I don’t feel shame for the number, or even the appearance of my body, but what really grates against me is eating.

There’s two sides to the nagging — the one that tells me to eat because I’m too far gone and it’ll be impossible to lose 120 pounds and find the elusive happiness that supposedly comes with that. And then there’s the side that angrily screams at me while I’m thinking of food, while I’m hungry, while I’m getting food, while I’m eating food, that just mentally beats me to a pulp.

“Maybe you’re a virgin who’s never been loved because you’re such a disgusting pig”

“If you don’t eat that, you’ll lose weight faster”

“If you start today, you could be at the BMI approved weight this time next year.”

“Just take a nap, you can’t be hungry while you sleep”

“Just eat smaller portions so you can shrink your stomach and decrease your appetite”

It’s just so exhausting. Having food be a salve, but having food also be the root of the issue.

Existing as a fat person in friend groups where they stand around and call their BMI approved bodies fat and disgusting. Hearing people fear fatness on a daily basis. Working with a preceptor who was grossly interested when my large patient wanted to weigh himself, like she was so involved in the situation because she viewed his size as shameful. Hearing her and another skinny friend go through photos of their high school classmates and act so disgusted and say “she blew up. She got big” about someone they graduated with.

It’s just all of these things. And then I accidentally take a video of my body when I’m taking risqué pics (😅😉) and looking at myself and…. Loving my body so much.

Knowing I’m at my heaviest in a while, and seeing my belly and curves and legit loving them. And seeing my body as this beautiful thing. This soft, cozy being worthy of love and affection and attention.

And then I hear these things. Everything mentioned above and I’m just “I’m not supposed to love my body because I am fat and there is no love for the fat girl”.

And there’s always been this forefront of a thought that I can be loved….. once I lose the weight. I can be loved…. after I’m below a size 12. I’m allowed to be shown affection and kindness….. when I’m thin.

It’s always been there. I never expected attention because I never deemed myself worthy of it. I still don’t most days. I’ve grown comfortable moving in the background of others’ lives because i am not a positive presence in my fat body.

No matter how kind. No matter how funny. No matter how smart. I am simultaneously too much and never enough for society. So I do not deserve those things thin people get without thought. Obviously.

So it’s all very heavy (hahahaha). I love my body, I really do, but I don’t deem it worthy of affection or desire. I complicate eating because obviously I’m fat and don’t need regular nourishment as the current fat existing on my body will be my sustenance because that’s how science works.

I’m trying to work on it. I’m trying to deem myself worthy of good things. Of food, of exercise not centered around changing my body, of clothes I’ve forever been told is “not for big girls”.

I’m trying. I am. But that’s where I am. Hopefully, if anyone has made it this far, I’ve made sense and perhaps made life a little less lonely for some people.

#admin #I think it’s worth the read if you think you’re up for it mentally #she’s a lil long but I’ve been sitting on this for a while.

6 notes · View notes

briefpersonawombat · 3 years

Text

Advantages Of Using Air Fresheners

Often you get some unpleasant smells once you come back to your home after a long time. This is generally due to inadequate air passage. You might not be able to stay in such an environment where there are unpleasant smells.

There can be any other reasons due to which you can get bad smell in your surrounding environment. The best way will be to use an air freshener to make the surrounding environment fresh and fragranced.

Getting a very well invoked fragrance will be really important as soon as the brain receives odors there will be instant invocation and memories create some unpleasant mood. It will be really important to get your mood in a perfect order in order to stay healthy physically and mentally.

Today people are using air fresheners at home and in cars, like car hanging perfume. This creates a wonderful fragrance which in turn helps in making the ambience wonderful and fresh. People use the fruit and lemon rich fragrance in order to create a refreshing image.

Along with advantages there are also some of the disadvantages which individual experiences with the air fresheners effect.

This article will speak about both advantages and disadvantages of the air refreshers. Also there are varieties of companies that deal with air fresheners in the market. You can choose the one that is reputed in the market.

Advantages And Disadvantages Of Air Fresheners

Unpleasant smells are frequently found lurking in bathrooms and musky offices, which make using those facilities bothersome and at times unbearable.

While its main benefit is to eliminate odors, there are many other benefits other than spreading a pleasant smell.

Advantages

Flexible: Air freshener service, such as EVA air freshener, can be installed virtually anywhere in your building. It is designed not just for restrooms but also for use in areas such as offices, meeting rooms, care homes, hotels, reception areas, school classrooms or anywhere that a pleasant fragrance is desired.

The air freshener comes furnished with a fan which can be used in high traffic areas and turned off in less visited areas so you get the perfect amount of fragrance circulating in the place on installation or spray.

Natural: Most air fresher services, use natural essential oils to make their scents. The freshener contains no volatile organic compounds (VOC’s) or aerosol products. And although most fragrances are strong and overpowering, Air fresheners leave a light, fresh fragrance behind.

You don’t have to worry about getting burned out on one scent; Most Air fresheners come equipped with a number of fragrance /scent options for you to enjoy a variety of aromas that you like

Neutralizes: Some fresheners simply mask the smell of malicious odors instead of neutralizing them; however, air fresheners that eliminate odors completely as to avoid mixing uncomplimentary smells together are available in most departmental stores. It truly creates a fresh, clean smell completely void of ghastly whiffs and scrunching noses.

Convenient: By choosing a good air freshener service provider, you will benefit from full installation, maintenance, and refills by service technicians Usually there is no additional charge for battery changes, and technicians will make sure your Room Freshener Gel doesn’t run out.

Designs: There are many design, sleek and classy and not old fashioned bulky air fresheners available these days .Also their closed system is ideal for hanging and decreases theft & vandalism. The design is also safety-minded as children can’t tamper with it and animals can’t reach it.

Positive change in mood: There are situations when you are in a tremendous off mood. Even you feel like breaking your head. But, if suddenly if you get a fresh smell of lemon or natural flower, it will instantly change your mood and you can easily get in to moon on with salinity and peace in mind.

You can easily concentrate on your work or speak to everyone without spoiling your mood. Air fresheners are very well associated with well being of human being with a boost to positive attitude.

Killing airborne pathogens: Some microorganisms and airborne pathogens are present in the environment that sometimes creates unhealthy atmosphere. If you can use the air fresheners with natural essential oil extracts, the airborne pathogens which are harmful for your body will be eradicated with the natural air fresheners. Even in your vehicles and bathrooms you can use these air fresheners in order to stay fresh and healthy. Also, you can use air purifier spray.

Eliminating undesirable odors: None of the individuals would like bad odor capturing them when they enter home or bathroom. Thus, the cosmetic manufacturers are making air fresheners of different fragrance and aroma according to the likes of individuals. This will help eradicating all undesirable odors from your rooms, bathroom and environment.

Keeps fragranced: You can stay away from the bad smell if you are using air fresheners. Your home will be really fragranced with the good smell. The air around you will be refreshing as well. You can apply this in your drawing room where you are going to grace your guest. Your relatives and friends visiting your home will be delighted.

Portrays positive frame of mind: If an individual is not having good mood, the fragrance can easily give a drastic change over the mood. Yes, the good fragrance helps in providing positive mood to every individual. If you have problem of mood swing, the air fresheners can help making it positive.

Homeowners and tenants are usually alike they use air fresheners to eliminate bad odors in their homes. Air fresheners are a quick fix to bad smells, and may seem like a gift from the home-cleaning gods. However, there are several disadvantages to using air fresheners. Certain aspects of air fresheners may affect your health, finances and the sanitation of your home.

1 note · View note

baepsaetan · 4 years

Text

Banner by @thebannershop

Summary: In a futuristic age where a person can be coded and inserted into a new body, the rich can live forever. Born to a wealthy family, Jin expects to live life at a lofty and uncaring height. His expectations go awry when his body is murdered and a small gang steals his ‘stack’ and resleeves him in a criminal. Thrust into a gritty, neon world far below his life as an immortal, where death can be Real, Jin will discover truths that challenge his perceptions and make him wonder what - if anything - immortality is worth.

Chapters: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt.5, pt. 6, pt. 7

Genre: Altered Carbon Fusion, Science Fiction/Futuristic, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Murder Mystery

Warnings: Shifting PoVs (primarily Jin), minor character death, abuse, torture, gangs, drug addiction, drug use, references to depression, body dysphoria, animal death, swearing, smut in future chapters

Length: 7.4k

The gang he’s been kidnapped by apparently doesn’t own – or at least use – a car, not even a terrain-exclusive one, and they set off on foot from the little apartment complex the men live in. He doesn’t know what time it is, and the sky’s too clouded to give much of an indication, but it’s too light to be night. Mid-afternoon, maybe? There are a fair few people out, and they wind through a series of side streets, cutting by buildings that are tall but also sagging, as if the weight of keeping themselves and their hundreds of thousands of inhabitants upright for half a century or so is becoming too much. Jin considers running, or calling for help, but Jungkook had none-too-subtly shown him the pistol he’s carrying before they’d left, and he hasn’t put it away, either. Besides, when they break through the side roads into what seems to be a main street, Seokjin has other things to think about.

He’s lived in Triptych all his life, but it might be more accurate to say he’s lived in Glass Harbour, instead. The neighbourhood – built in the ocean a short way from Triptych’s shoreline – is of course isolated from the rest of the city, but Seokjin has never realized just how removed he’s been, too. He’s been outside of Glass Harbour plenty of times – even been to the Curve, where they clearly are, given the general disrepair and the lack of multileveled streets – but never without at least several guards and a friend or two, and never really on the streets, either. His family owns several hovercars that simply coast up to whatever place he wants to go; walking the pavement is for the poor.

Triptych is a sprawling city of towering steel and glass buildings, shining pathways of cable and artificial stone arching across various levels, letting citizens walk in the sky as they move through their lives. Far younger than the Bay Area, it is a city of technological advancement and drive, of lights and steel and laws written by a Meth chequebook.

The Curve is an exception to that rule. In the early days of its inception, Triptych had been built on what was essentially two hills, with a deep cleft between the pair. That inconvenience was offset by the location – close to the shore, and, more important for the three Meth families who founded the city, perfectly situated next to a wide ocean shelf on which they could begin to build their Glass Harbour. As the city grew, all soaring heights and chrome exteriors, the gap between the two hills was overwhelmed by the buildings going up on all sides. A deep dip in the urban landscape, it received less sunlight and fresh air than neighbouring districts, and so was forgotten by the Meths who poured money into construction and maintenance.

In a city devoted to worshipping the future, the Curve is a neighbourhood left in the past. There are no networks of raised walkways to direct people through the area. Everyone too poor to move elsewhere operates on one level: the ground.

And there are apparently plenty of those people. The trek through the narrow, pitted roads, Namjoon ahead and Jungkook behind, has revealed more citizens than Jin was even aware lived in Triptych. They have to push through several crowds, hassled people in impatient groups shuffling outside a building or at a transit stop, waiting for things and headed for places he can’t conceive. Even though it’s raining, a miserable shower that sinks straight through his sweater and makes things worse, almost no one has an umbrella, or even a hood. They just accept the rain.

In the same passive way, they accept the haze smearing across neon-bright signs set up far above their heads, the pollution distorting ads for any number of cheap looking products, most of which Seokjin can’t guess the purpose of. Everyone walks quickly, eyes down or on their companions, and accepts – or ignores, it is hard to see a difference – the constant noise of the advertisements. The disembodied voices fall down from the signs and the smog like the conversations of chain-smoking angels, never quite fully understood, too distorted to catch.

“Get a… Won’t regret the…”

“…seat in the back and…”

“…like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Buy now!”

The noise and lights and people crash over Seokjin with a weight that feels more physical than mental, and he guesses these people can’t even afford neural implants or ONIs. That must be why all of the ads are out in the open instead of transmitting into the ocular displays of specific consumers, targeted based on purchasing history and tendencies. He’s only experienced op ads once – no business would dare bother a Meth without permission, and he’d just tried it for fun, at Taehyung’s suggestion – but even that hectic mess of visual heckling had been less overwhelming than the blaring sounds and sights assaulting him now.

And then there’s the sheer struggle of getting where they need to be. Jin actually finds himself grateful for Namjoon. The pink haired man seems to have no issue cutting through the crowds, and, deliberately or otherwise, usually clears enough space for Jin to get through in the process. A few times it isn’t quite enough, and, unused to the broad-shouldered sleeve, Jin jostles against a passerby or two – with irritated responses – but without Namjoon, he probably would have drowned trying to get just a few steps, let alone miles.

When they finally slow, approaching the mouth of an alley off the main street, Jin’s feet are aching. The once white sneakers they gave him have seen better days, and they’re even worse now than when he put them on more than an hour ago; it feels like the three of them walked through enough trash and mud to build a small mountain on the way here, and his shoes reflect that. Namjoon and Jungkook had been oblivious, but he’d spent most of the trip trying (and failing) to navigate puddles, wrappers, cigarette butts and things he couldn’t identify and didn’t want to.

That, coupled with Jungkook almost literally breathing down his neck the entire time, gun in hand, and snickering whenever Jin slipped or winced or hesitated, has put him in a mood that could only charitably be called bad.

There’s also the whole being kidnapped and forced to return to the spot of his death thing.

“Will you stop that?” he demands when a foot knocks painfully against his heel for the umpteenth time, whipping around to glare at the (presumably) younger man. Jungkook puffs out his cheeks and smiles, a small overbite becoming evident with the little grin, and the innocent expression is infuriating.

No Meth would ever leave a defect like an overbite alone. So far as Seokjin is concerned, it screams poverty. And this drudge had the nerve to kick him! Repeatedly! And grin about it!

If the irritation boiling under his skin is any indication, he’s probably turning an unattractive shade of red, but before Seokjin can make what might be described as a mistake and take a swing at Jungkook, Namjoon intervenes. “Leave him alone, Kookie,” he orders. “Go watch the entrance, make sure no one’s going to start anything.”

Jin is dismally certain that the chances of that are low. He’d tried making eye contact with anyone even remotely respectable in appearance on their way here, some half-baked notion of escape in his head, but very few people even looked at him. Those that did were quick to look away, and he hadn’t been able to tell if that was the fault of the intimidating sleeve he’d been stuck in, or Jungkook looming over his shoulder and scowling, or something else altogether. Regardless, the small number of passersby who happen to glance into the alley all suddenly remember important engagements elsewhere and rush off, leaving Jin stranded.

Better to just bide his time. Or something that sounds similarly calm and planned and definitely not freaking out.

“So,” he says, looking around the alley, and falls silent. It’s certainly not a glamorous spot to die in, or even breathe in. Jin literally can’t imagine why he would have been here. There’s dirt and garbage on the ground, like a carpet of very dubious design that releases an odor he suspects hints at the more disgusting uses this alley has been put to. A bunch of graffiti is scrawled on the walls, senseless black and red scribbles splattered across the bricks like blood and ichor. Someone even rigged up a holographic bit of disruption, a horrifyingly grotesque man, rail thin and warped, who flickers into being (and scares the hell out of Jin) when they get close enough to activate its sensors. The image is deteriorating, pixels missing here and there, and the whole figure wavers in and out of existence erratically. However, that doesn’t stop the holographic from going through a series of obscene gestures, the least of which is giving viewers the finger.

Namjoon is staring at the wavering vandalism. “Do you know,” he asks suddenly, “how hard those are to make?”

“Ah…” The random question takes Jin off guard, and besides, graphics have never been one of his interests.

“It’s hard. Not if you have a computer program to do it all for you, but the program would cost too much for an individual to own.” His heavy eyes flick to Jin and then back to the figure. “Most individuals. So, someone built that, piece by piece, in some kind of limited process, and they did a decent job. It looks good.”

“Good,” Seokjin repeats doubtfully as he stares at the holographic, wondering if there’s something he’s missing about the distorted piece. Or maybe Namjoon’s just a nutcase.

“Not the subject, obviously,” snorts the nutcase in question. “But the skill is there. Good rendering, skin tones… The facial expressions are on point, too. Took time, took effort, took knowledge… and it’s sitting out here, in some random alleyway, just to fuck with whatever police were here to investigate your murder. See, the mechanism is latched in place? The police didn’t even bother to get rid of it, and since they’re not around anymore, it’s not getting seen by anyone.”

This doesn’t exactly feel like small talk, but if Namjoon is trying to make a point, it’s joining the advertisements prattling above Jin’s head, lost in the haze. He rolls his shoulders, impatient, and moves away from the holographic. A few seconds later it dies away. “Look, I got killed here and I don’t care about the quality of some stupid vandalism. You dragged me to this place, now tell me what’s next.”

Taking that with a mouth that twists a little, Namjoon pivots, points to a spot on the ground. It is conspicuously less filthy than any other spot. “You were found around there. This alley is a dead end, so the guy who killed you was probably close to the entrance when he did it… unless he was supposed to meet with you or set up an ambush or something. Just… try to picture it all. See if anything comes back.”

Compliant, if not exactly confident, Jin looks around more carefully, willing himself to ignore the unpleasantness and stench and focus on the specifics instead. He trails his fingers over the cinder blocks with only a slight grimace for what his touch smears through, studies each line and scuff in the grime at his feet. There are no windows opening up onto this alley, just featureless walls rising up on either side, blank and disinterested in the little drama taking place between them.

"When did I get shot?" he asks.

"From the police files we, uh, liberated, around two in the morning."

So, it was dark when it happened. If they're close to Ringwanderung – Jin can't be sure, he hasn't seen the building so far and he doesn't remember it's exact location from the last visit he can remember – the roads probably weren't deserted. People would have heard him if he screamed. But did he scream?

The rasp of the ground is rough against his fingertips, and when he pulls them away, they're blackened with dirt. Just a bit of dirt, no blood, even though this is the spot he died in. The police apparently did a good job cleaning up; if his faulty memories are at all accurate, he bled like his heart was trying to water the dry ground. But what else is there? Night time...

He's starting to feel strange again. Disconnected, although this time it's not the sleeve that he's floating away from. No, this time the body stays with him as he detaches from the present, forcing his mind into the treacherous, bleak path of the shadowed past. There's nothing there that's solid. It's disintegrated even more than the vandalism Namjoon was so intrigued by. He has – feelings. Impressions. Maybe-might-if-could-be's that float through his head and come apart when he tries to grab them. Words lost on the tip of his tongue.

He didn't scream. Jin is suddenly certain of that. He didn't scream for help, because the man – threatened something. Threatened someone? Someone – Jin loses it. But the man – in his mind, the man is the holographic, twisted and broken and ominous as he looms up in the darkness, with no solid features to nail in place. He veers in and out of focus, and his words are as intangible as his features. Something about – about wanting, about plans collapsing, about frustration and fear, about defiance, about no no no no you can't–

With a gasp, Seokjin shoves himself up from his crouch, staggers into the wall and stays there, needing the uncaring surface to keep him upright. His chest is aching, fear closing ghostly fingers around his throat, the sensation a faded pressure. This time Namjoon doesn't try to help, but neither does he rush Jin or demand an update. That makes it – easier – to get his breathing under control, but it does nothing to help the simmering pressure bubbling under his skin. He's clenching his jaw, he realizes numbly after a moment, and can't seem to get himself to relax as dissatisfaction upbraids his self-assurance.

All of that, and he still has – nothing. Absolutely nothing. A bunch of gibberish, even less useful than a holographic placed in the middle of nowhere.

He hits his fist against the wall he’s leaning against, more of a tap than a punch, but Namjoon’s eyebrows lift at the aggravated display. “I’m guessing that means you can’t remember anything important?”

“I’m trying,” he pants. “But this is just – garbage and more garbage. I can’t put anything together.”

“Tell me a bit about it.”

“What’s there to tell? I – I got threatened by the guy, I think, and he wanted something. I don’t know if I gave it to him.” Jin coughs, trying to clear a throat that’s gone dry. “Just to be clear, that’s all maybes. I don’t – I can’t tell if it’s real or not.”

“What did he want?”

It’s not purposeful – or at least, Jin’s pretty sure it’s not – but there’s something extremely aggravating about the other man’s persistence. “Yah! Are you deaf? I told you, I don’t know!”

Namjoon is silent for a moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw, before he turns away. "So, we're at more than one dead end," he comments, and though Jin catches an attempt at a smile at the corner of his mouth, he sounds dispirited. Not angry. Just… tired. Jin is surprised and relieved that his outburst hadn’t elicited a violent retaliation, but there’s something dimly reproachful keeping his throat tight as he follows the other man to the end of the alley. When Jungkook looks over inquiringly, Namjoon shakes his head.

"Let's go inside the Ring and see if there's anything we can pick up there." Passing a hand over his face, for a moment the pink-haired man doesn't follow his own command, just stands unmoving on the sidewalk. It lasts for all of two seconds, but it still makes discomfort sink seething hooks into Jin, somewhere low in his stomach. Obviously Namjoon is struggling to hold himself together, and that doesn't seem to speak well for Jin's immediate future. Or for any of their futures, actually. When he glances at Jungkook, the boy is biting at his lip and watching his leader from the corner of his eye, presumably just as concerned, albeit for entirely different reasons.

Dropping his hand, Namjoon gives himself a little shake. As though they were the ones dawdling, his voice sharpens as he snaps, "Let's go."

True to his capturers' words, the Ring is just a few buildings down, though the street curves sharply upward and had made it difficult to spot the sign from further down the way. The sign isn’t garish, which is surprising given how many eyesores Jin has seen on this street. Three neon rings surrounded by a fourth, all of them differing shades of blue, with Ringwanderung shot through them in a dark blue approaching black. The sign probably looks quite beautiful at night. The Ring itself is a squat building of modern black and grey angles, shorter by two or three floors than the ones on either side of it, but it's also wider than either of them. If Jin remembers correctly, it has several underground floors, too, where most of the drug dens and prostitute rooms are. Above ground, funny enough, was for above ground deals, like dancing, hanging out and eating, drinking alcohol and using some of the milder intoxicants available. Very PG 13.

There aren't all that many people frequenting the club when they enter the Ring, including security. That's not entirely a surprise, given the time, and Jin pauses just inside the entrance, letting his eyes adjust to the slightly dimmer setting while they scour the red and black couches scattered across the room. He's half-hoping he'll see a familiar face, someone to run to and beg for help – several of his friends, particularly Taehyung, like to come here, enjoying the establishment’s slight edges. Jin’s come to realize those are pretty laughable. What’s edgy about a building complete with a complement of security guards?

Although, now that he thinks about it... his friends might be wearing familiar faces, but he isn't. What would they do if some random stranger came up to them and started ranting about needing help?

Not react quickly enough to save him from being shot by Jungkook or Namjoon, Jin's pretty sure of that. Even Taehyung, with his special empathy implants, would probably take too long.

Both of his escorts are tenser in this closed setting, anyways. Somehow Jungkook manages to inch even closer to him than when they were walking, and Namjoon doesn't let the same amount of space grow between them as he leads the way through the lounge, deeper into the club. "Keep your head down," he mutters to Jin. "I don't want someone recognizing the sleeve."

Jin stops dead and hisses, “What do you mean, someone recognizing the sleeve?” Seconds later, as Namjoon regards him tight-lipped and silent, a horrified revelation stumbles into his mind. “You – I’m in – You put me in someone’s body illegally? Someone who lives here?”

“Now’s not the time to get into the details, Seokjin,” Namjoon says from between clenched teeth.

“Not the time!” His voice leaps like it’s trying to high-five the ceiling. “Where is – who is – how –” It hadn’t even remotely occurred to him that they might have put him in a sleeve with an owner who wasn’t either dead or locked away or had moved on from this sleeve. He’d just – Meths took their sleeves from others if they took a fancy to one, sure, but that was an exception, not the rule. Most of them were lab-created, or, if biologically based and from parents, at least genetically enhanced. The point being that they were new, and not… He’d known this was a used sleeve, the impulses proved that, but he hadn’t thought that the previous user might still be around! Or their friends!

Namjoon must see the alarm taking over Jin and tilting precariously towards a full-blown meltdown, because he steps closers, grabs Jin’s arm. “Relax, okay? I promise, we’ll fill you in on everything, but not right now.”

He stares wildly into Namjoon’s dark eyes, and they feel like locked doors with bright OPEN signs above them. A lie and a disappointment. “Just tell me. Are they dead? The person who had this sleeve… Did you kill them?”

The fingers wrapped around Seokjin’s arm tighten to the point of pain, but the other man doesn’t look away. Doesn’t hesitate when he says, “No. They’re not dead. Even if they deserve to be. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

Seokjin is released and his captor turns away, leaving a throbbing ache in Jin’s arm and a colder hurt in his chest. He doesn’t know if Namjoon is lying to get him to go along with this. Is that why this body is so bruised and battered? Because whoever had worn it before ‘deserved’ it?

“Like I said,” Namjoon tacks on, voice cool, “just keep your head down. Don’t look at anyone for too long. I don’t even think he went here that often, only a few times.” He starts to move away.

"A few times is a few times too many! Maybe you should have thought of that before?" Jin gripes, unmoving, sweat pouring down his back and making his shirt stick to his skin uncomfortably. The wary looks he darts at the club inhabitants don’t reveal anyone particularly interested, even despite his outburst, but he feels like a target’s been put on his back. "This face isn't exactly indiscrete. It practically begs for attention. You should have grabbed me a hat or something."

Jungkook shoves him in the back, the gun's barrel pressing a painful indent into his body, but that doesn't stop Jin from seeing the way Namjoon grimaces, his head falling, accepting the blame as yet another heavy burden.

The dance area is even emptier than the lounge, with only a few groups of people standing here and there, drinks in hand. The small cluster of booths off to the side are completely empty. A trio of girls are swaying slowly in the middle of the floor. They can't be dancing to the music – there's a quiet but fast electro-pop song playing in the background – and he can only assume by the relaxed way they move that they've been sampling some of the wares that the Ring offers. There's a bar at the back of the room that might sell such wares, a long counter with a bunch of stools manned by a sole crewman. He's not exactly the friendliest looking person Jin's ever seen, with a bristling black beard and eyebrows so thick they could have crawled down his chin and formed another beard. He’s also giving them a once over.

Apparently failing to notice those alarming traits, Namjoon heads straight for the counter. "Arven," he says warmly.

“Namjoon!” the bartender calls back, just as warmly. “If it isn’t the bulletproof boy. I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.” When Jin moves to get closer, interested in spite of himself, Jungkook grabs his sweater, pulls him back with a warning look.

“They’re not talking about shit that concerns you, Meth,” Jungkook says. “Just some business deals. How ‘bout you just stand there and look good until they’re done? I bet you’re good at that.” The acerbic words sound a bit awkward, like the kid is trying them out for the first time, and after Jin stares at him for a few seconds, Jungkook flushes and looks away.

Jin mumbles, “I am good at looking good,” and yanks his sweater out of the other's grasp. Still uncomfortable, he scans the room, observation skipping over several people before he freezes. One of the girls on the dance floor, a red head in a floral green summer dress, is watching him, her gaze glassy, and he smiles nervously before looking away.

“Uh, Jungkook?” he whispers. “I think that girl recognizes me.”

“No, she doesn’t know…” The strangled way his guard’s words die might have been funny, if the girl wasn’t making her way over.

“What do I do!?”

“Get her to go away!”

“How?”

Jungkook doesn’t come up with anything before the girl is in hearing range, and a quick look at his wide, panicked eyes makes Jin suspect it would have taken awhile, anyways.

"Hey, Siwoo," the pale girl breathes in an uncomfortably familiar way when she halts in front of them. Her eyes trail across his face, noting the cuts and bruises, but she makes no comment. Is it the norm for this sleeve, or just not something you talk about in public? "It’s so weird to run into you now."

Jin casts a pleading look at Jungkook, but the young man just edges closer, hand under his coat and definitely cradling his gun. Seokjin doesn’t dare turn around enough to see if Namjoon has noticed their interaction, but surely he won’t be shot? If he can just fumble around and pretend to be who he’s not? And if he can’t? Is he – or the girl – going to be killed just because he can’t act like a thug? The unbidden thought sets his teeth on edge, and Jin tries to pull his face into something tough and removed.

"Uh, hey," he says, wondering if she's high enough to miss any discrepancies in his mannerisms. Her expression is spacey enough to give him hope. "I had something to pick up nearby, and I, uh, figured this place had a nice ring to it, you know? Hahaha." Her delicate brows furrow, button nose scrunching, and he thinks that maybe Siwoo doesn't use puns too often. Or maybe it was the way his laugh had spiked seventy octaves, nerves punting it up like a pro-kicker over a goalpost.

Before Jin can devolve into panic too much more, the perplexed expression dissolves, replaced by a knowing smile. "You picked up some of the new stuff from Kali, huh? Bet it's got you going." She steps closer, looking back at her friends suggestively. "If you shared some with us, I bet we could really keep you going, Siwoo."

"Ahaha..." His cheeks flaming red, Jin wonders if spontaneously combusting would destroy his stack, or just this sleeve. He also wonders what kind of guy Siwoo is, that girls are willing to make that kind of suggestion, and so boldly, too. The thought does nothing for his embarrassment. "I, uh, can't. Not this time. I’m meeting with, uh…"

A stroke of genius hits, sweeping away most of the mortification. Namjoon said that whoever this body belonged too, he deserved to be dead. Who else could that be, than one of the gang members targeting Namjoon’s group? If that were true… If this girl knows Siwoo, then maybe she knows something about that, too. And if he can find it out…

Jin slaps his forehead, thickens his voice further like he’s seriously intoxicated. “Damn… You know the one. He’s the guy who…” Jin leans closer, pitches his voice lower. “Well, you heard about that Meth that got murdered the other night? It’s the guy who offed him.”

She jerks back, alarmed even in her haze, and gives Jungkook a wary once over. Her voice lowers to a hiss. “Keep your voice down, Siwoo. Fuck, you’ve had too much if you’re talking about David. ‘Sides, that’s your guys’ business, not mine.”

“Yeah, yeah, David, sorry.” He tries to wave an airy hand, but it’s shaking too hard, so he runs it through his hair instead. The motion doesn’t do much to soothe his racing thoughts. “This shit I’m trying is just, uh, really heavy.” She nods slowly, but Jin doesn’t think she’s quite convinced. He tries a different tactic. “Actually, honestly, I’m just kind of pissed off. I heard David got a bunch of creds or something from getting that guy, and he isn’t sharing it with me. But I still gotta grab shit for him?”

As he hoped, the promise of gossip eases her a little, even as a confused frown slopes her mouth. “I heard it was a lot, too. Something big or something, everyone up top was freaking out. Someone said Rafa smiled when he heard. It’s weird he wouldn’t share, when I heard you’re the one who helped him out.” Jungkook moves, a sudden twitch, and she eyes him again. Jin could have kicked him in the shin. Abruptly losing interest, the girl shrugs. “Like I said, it’s not my business. Besides, you never introduced me to your… friend?” Jin stiffly nods. “Who is he? Have I seen you before?” That to Jungkook directly, and with her attention diverted, Jin is free to look at his guard, too.

He hadn’t realized it before, too engrossed in the pretence, but Jungkook might very well be having a heart attack. The kid is shaking and sweating, pink staining every visible patch of skin, and his head is ducked so low his chin might as well be fused to his throat. Jungkook stutters something that’s completely incomprehensible, before clearing his throat. In a very small voice, he says, “Probably. You probably saw me. I – I’ve been here before.”

Such a novel experience as his captor floundering should really be enjoyed, and Jin is spitefully ready to sit back and let Jungkook continue to struggle. It seems no more than justice.

Unfortunately, impatient or too drugged to hold on to a train of thought, the girl shrugs again, not even interested enough to get a name. “Alright. Anyways, Siwoo, are you going to the Meth party? I’ve never been to one and I hear it's going to be wild! Some of the other girls were invited last week, but since that Meth got messed up, not many of you guys are coming here to throw around party invitations. So far none of you assholes have asked me to go. Plus I doubt any Meths are gonna be sending out invites, either."

The girl is definitely working another angle, and Jin blinks rapidly, trying to keep up with the information. "The party? Uh, I haven't decided yet. It's... when is it again?"

"Christ, Siwoo, maybe you should lay off the stuff for awhile. I heard everyone from your group is invited. It's, what, a few months from now? Remember? If you feel like going, you should hit me up; I want a pass."

"A pass?"

"Duh. Not like the Meths are gonna let just anyone stroll into Glass Harbour, especially not at a party like that." The redhead rolls her eyes. “Can’t have people like us dragging in mud, right? I want to –” One of the girls still on the dancefloor calls out a name, Natasha, and she glances back. Her friends make beckoning gestures. Natasha waves at them and looks ruefully at Jin. “My friends are calling. I’ll see you later, okay? Anytime. Hope stuff works out with you and David… And seriously, let me know if you’re going? Or if you just want to hang out…” She trails away without another look at either of them.

Beside him, Jungkook inhales violently. Within a few seconds Namjoon arrives at their side, face calm but eyes demanding as they turn to Jungkook. The brown-haired man hurriedly says, “I think it’s fine. She’s a friend or something, not someone that knows this asshole is missing.”

“And Seokjin didn’t…” Try to clue her in, Jin assumes Namjoon is asking. He lifts his chin, outraged by the question.

“No,” Jungkook replies, “nothing like that. Actually, he – I think he pretty much fooled her.” His tone could not have been more grudging if he’d made a concerted effort, though before Jin can smile at the faint praise, Jungkook cuts that pretty short. “She was so high I think a pole with a face stuck on it might have fooled her, though.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that while Jungkook was imitating the pole he just mentioned, I was finding out things! A lot of help you were, by the way,” Jin adds with a sour look at Jungkook. Yeah, he definitely prefers the kid flushing in embarrassment instead of wearing a smug grin. At least the former is cute instead of insufferable.

Namjoon forestalls anything either of them might have added. “You can tell me about it when we leave. I talked to Arven, mostly business, but I asked him about the murder, too.” As Jin begins to frown at that information, he continues. “Not about you specifically, just in an indirect way. He didn’t know much about it. Said something about an unusual amount of Meths coming here, and not just thirteenth sons and daughters, either, but even a few heads of houses.”

He looks so excited by the news that Jin feels a little bad to let him down. “That’s not that weird. There are trends, right? Ringwanderung has been gathering popularity for awhile now; it’s not odd that some of the heavy weights would eventually stop by. It’ll be a thing for a bit – maybe a while longer than usual, since I got, uh, since I died – and they’ll move on to other things.”

The way Namjoon’s shoulders slump is distracting enough for Jin to ignore Jungkook’s comment about flighty bastards. Hands hovering and waving awkwardly, Seokjin says, “Well, it might be important. Maybe it’s not a coincidence that I got hurt just when they started coming here.” It’s definitely a coincidence, so far as he’s concerned, but it’s nice to see the gang leader take a deep breath and straighten a little.

“Okay. Well – we’ll figure it out. I’m guessing being here hasn’t struck anything in your memory?”

Jin looks around the Ring. He remembers it well enough, but just from night and weekend sprees, hazy and splotched with drugs and alcohol. There’s nothing immediate about the memories, nothing that says he’s about to stumble onto a massive revelation. Hesitantly, wanting to give it his best try, he spends a few minutes wandering around, his two captors tailing him, but by the time they circle back to the dancefloor, he hasn’t found anything. He doesn’t really want to go downstairs, either, not with this company. After a few more silent seconds of observation, he shakes his head.

His companion sighs, but less heavily than the last time. “It’s time for us to go, then. This was a long shot, anyways, and the less time you’re in the open, the better.” When he gestures, Jin precedes him out of the dance area, leaving the pop music behind, with Jungkook trailing them both.

They enter into the lounge again, soft lights a distinct change from the darker illumination of the dancefloor, the private conversations a pleasant background noise. Jin tunes them out; he’s attempting to calculate what else he has to offer, since this trip has been essentially a bust. Was the Meth party significant? Who was hosting it? He can’t remember being invited to one recently, but that could be his amnesia in general, or maybe he just wasn’t friends or acquaintances with the host. The latter was admittedly much less likely – there weren’t all that many Meths, especially ones influential enough to host parties that normies could be invited to – but if the whole gang was invited, that had to be important, right? Only, what could it mean? What…

“Ah, we’re gonna find something tonight! I can feel it!”

“Sir, it’s barely the evening and we just got here. Besides, we’ve been here so many times in the last few days. What makes today different?”

“It’s a feeling! I’m absolutely positive someone here knows something.”

“…sir, you’ve tried already… Why don’t we just go home…?”

Jin’s concentrating so hard that it takes him a moment to realize that he knows both of the voices coming from a cluster of couches not far from them. When he gawks in that direction, he definitely recognizes the tousled head of dark brown hair just visible above the chair’s back.

A surge of relief hits him, thunderous comfort resonating through his nerves, so powerful that he stops dead and feels tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Without conscious decision, the name bursts from him, as natural as his own. “Taehyung!”

The gun that’s suddenly jammed against his spine, hard enough to make his mouth tighten in pain, is expected. After all, even as the word had left his lips, he’d regretted it, had wanted to pull it back and give himself time to think instead of showing his hand so early. He’d expected the consequences.

But he doesn’t expect the glacier cold voice that issues from behind him to belong to Namjoon.

“Put your head down, now,” demands the voice he hardly recognizes, and even as Taehyung stands up from the couch and turns their way, Seokjin complies, sets his stinging eyes on the red carpet at their feet. Namjoon snatches his arm, bodily forces him to sidestep away, and Jungkook casually paces in front of them, blocking Tae’s line of sight. “You say anything, you even breathe wrong, and you die. So does your friend,” Namjoon says quietly, his perfect enunciation of each word somehow more frightening than if he’d been shouting.

“What is it, sir?” asks Taehyung’s companion, and Jin knows it’s Drayton, the Kim family’s personal driver. Probably here to drag the man home on his father’s orders, but roped into whatever TaeTae is doing.

When Taehyung replies, he sounds miffed. “I thought I heard my name.”

“Really? I don’t think I…”

You did, Seokjin wants to scream, and he wants to cry too, because God, he’s been so alone, and Taehyung is right there. But a new terror is puncturing his lungs, making it hard to breathe, and this jagged fear has nothing to do with the pistol pressing into his back. It has to do with Taehyung’s curious, clever eyes, and the way he sees things that sometimes he shouldn’t, and the way he wants to help when he shouldn’t, too.

If Namjoon had been just a little slower – if Jin had been just a little louder – his friend would have seen him, maybe even recognized him. And Jin would have had just enough time to see something like bewildered joy bloom across Taehyung’s face before Taehyung, one of the best people he knows, was shot to death, and who cared if it was just a sleeve death? Jin is walking proof that the experience is a horrible one. And the possibility hadn’t even occurred to him until after the fact.

The thought makes him nauseous, literally nauseous, and Namjoon practically has to drag him through the lounge and outside. The air’s still stifling despite being outdoors, and when Seokjin looks up all he can see is buildings and grey haze. No sky to speak of. Yet somehow the rush of people is still present, going through their day as if they don’t have an ashen weight over their heads. It’s smothering and does nothing for the frenetic pounding in his chest or the queasiness in Jin’s stomach.

A harsh shove by Namjoon sets him into a stumbling walk, the gun falling away with his captors hemming him in on either side. After a few blocks, the pink-haired man asks tersely, “Do you think we’re being followed?”

Jungkook says, “I haven’t seen anyone. No… I don’t think so.” There’s a beat of silence between the three of them that’s so profound it almost blocks out the sounds of street traffic, the noisy chatter of the people they’re flowing through. Jungkook breaks it. “We shouldn’t have brought him. Or we should have made sure we had control of him. We shouldn’t –”

“I know, Jungkook. I know.”

Silence again, deep and miserable and difficult to walk in. Jin doesn’t know what to do, what to say. The constant fear that’s been lapping at his feet or swamping over his head is proving too much; his lips and fingertips are tingling, but Seokjin is numb to everything else. His feet slog through a sticky puddle of someone’s discarded drink without pause, and the clang of his foot hitting the mostly empty can doesn’t even make him glance down. It’s hard enough to just keep his legs moving.

They cover several more streets before Jungkook says, small and unhappy, “Sorry, hyung. I should have kept a closer watch, anyways. I got… distracted.”

“…Nah. S’not your fault. Just bad luck or something. Maybe we’re cursed.” It’s a joke that falls so flat it’s almost 2D, and when Jin’s eyes drift over to Namjoon’s tight face, the man doesn’t really look like he’s joking, anyways.

They’re off the main road now, passing through an industrial zone with cars lining both sides of the street, but few people are in sight among the clusters of squat, stained buildings. Jungkook kicks at the chain link fence they’re walking next to, making it rattle. “It’s not bad luck. It’s him. Why’d you have to go do something stupid like that, huh?” he abruptly demands of Jin.

Jin, grateful to be more or less ignored until now, hesitates to answer. Jungkook’s question isn’t even that mean, more frustrated than anything, but Seokjin can’t tear his gaze from the cracked pavement they’re walking over. Truth is, he’s been wondering the same thing himself. Had he really almost gotten Taehyung killed? All for – what? A second of relief that he wasn’t the only one in this horrible situation? He’d already concluded that no one could help, at least not quickly enough, but he’d called for his friend despite that.

What does that make him?

Once again, Namjoon intercedes on his behalf. Sort of. “It doesn’t matter now, Kookie. We got out without anyone important catching on. All’s well that ends well. A fairy-tale finish.” The bitterness is absolutely impossible to miss by the end, but when Jin risks a look, Namjoon isn’t directing the vitriol towards him. He’s wearing an indrawn expression, fine brows caving together, and Jin doesn’t think it’s the encounter with Taehyung that has him so upset. Or at least, that’s not the only thing.

Namjoon catches him watching, however, and his brows draw down even more. “Jungkook’s right, though. It was stupid. What did you think would happen?”

He waits to feel the sharp prick of defensiveness, but it doesn’t come. “I… I didn’t really think, it just… came out.”

The ice that was in Namjoon’s tone before has crept into his eyes when he says, “Next time – if there’s a next time – you have to think. Because I know this situation sucks, but I’m not risking my crew for a Meth who puts his mouth before his head again. Next time…”

“I get shot. I die. Yeah, I get it.” And he does. He really kind of does. So much so that it does nothing to the leaden mass sunk into every atom of his body.

The tight hollowness in his throat is only growing, a gaping emptiness that’s threatening to climb into his head and plummet into his chest. There’s regret, sure, regret for saying anything, regret for not saying enough, regret that he’s here at all, but the fear is a wrung-out towel, strangled and nearly dry. All Jin wants is to be somewhere else. It’s hard to look away from both Jungkook and Namjoon, since they’re on either side, so once again his gaze finds the ground.

Which is why Jin completely misses the woman, dressed in dark clothes with a black face mask, who suddenly steps out from behind one of the cars ahead of them. There’s a gun clutched in her hand. He misses the way she lifts up the weapon and aims – right at Jin.

He doesn’t miss the crack of the gun going off, though.

#namjin #namjin fanfic #my fanfic #namjoon x seokjin #member x member #seokjin #namjoon

5 notes · View notes

astralkoo · 5 years

Text

Beautifully Misfit 2

SERIES: Hybrid BTS

‣ Genre: fluff, smutt, hybrid au

‣ Word Count: 3k

‣ Pairing(s): skunk!Jimin x reader, puppy!Taehyung x reader, bunny!Jungkook x reader

‣ Warning(s): strong language, angst, bullying, fighting (not graphic), some mentions of abuse and neglect, talks of euthanasia

‣ to be aware of: sub!jimin, switch!taehyung, switch!jungkook, dom!reader, some kinky ass future happenings, BDSM themes, some heavy angst, and triggering themes.

Summary: you never really saw yourself as a hybrid person. that is, until your best friend introduces you to his hybrid, and you suddenly find yourself craving the companionship. you only intended to bring home one. somewhere between the lines you ended up with three beautifully misfit hybrids who craved nothing but your love.

part. i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi (coming soon)

A/N; I promise I’ll introduce Jiminie and Kookie next chapter, I just wanted to get all the introductory stuff out of the way early on without making the chapters too long! Also, thank you so much for the positive responses on Beautifully Misfit part 1! It means a lot, and I hope you enjoy part 2!

“Are you sure it’s enough?” You asked for the twenty thousandth time.

“Y/n,” Namjoon sighed, “you practically bought out the entire store, I’m pretty sure you’re set for the next twelve decades.”

“But what if there’s something I missed?”

“Trust me, you’re not missing any of the general necessities. You don’t even know what breed of hybrid you’re going to get and somehow you’re already over prepared.”

You offered him a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of your neck. “I suppose, I might have gone a bit overboard?”

He laughed loudly, “what gave it away? The king sized bed you ordered or the five thousand dollars worth of miscellaneous items?”

Humming in thought, you meekly interlaced your fingers behind your back, swaying a bit in your step, “a bit of both?”

Shaking his head at your ridiculous antics, he let out a light hearted chuckle, pulling you into his side. “You are one of a kind, you know that?” You smiled brightly up at him, wrapping your arm around his waist.

“So I’ve been told.”

But the light aura surrounding you seemed to crack as you approached the building. A sudden bout of uncertainty and nervousness gripped at your heart and mind.

You were finally here. After weeks of preparing your home for your new addition, endless hours of researching, and having several mental breakdowns in the arms of your best friend, you had finally arrived at the hybrid shelter.

It was almost surreal.

And definitely terrifying.

The shelter itself had been difficult to find. Originally, you’d believed it was fine to just pop into any random hybrid shop, because there was pretty much one on every block. Hybrids were very common, especially in the area you were currently living in. One prominent change in society a few years back was the climb in hybrid normality.

They’d once symbolized wealth and high status, but as their population increased, their value dropped and therefore, they were within reach of the ordinary man and woman. Within a span of two years, they became normal to have in everyday households.

Back when you were in middle school, there was only one girl who’s family was wealthy enough to own a hybrid. And she made sure to rub it in everyone’s face every chance she got.

But now, one glance down a street and there were usually at least three within view.

Unfortunately, this sprout in population came with several prominent downsides.

It wasn’t rare to hear of underground hybrid fighting rings. Men and women used hybrids as a source of entertainment, their own twisted amusement. The death of a hybrid in those fighting rings was like some sick joke on the street.

It was also not unusual to hear of hybrids being used for… sexual activities. Whether it be the owner abusing their power over a hybrid and taking advantage of them, or a hybrid being sold by a new form of pimp for money and power. It was a messed up system.

There were organizations that countered these issues, fortunately. Organizations that were dedicated to saving and protecting hybrids, as well as finding safe forever homes for them. Like H4H, ‘Home for Hybrids,’ which was where Namjoon had adopted Jin from and where you were currently going to adopt your own.

It was one of the most well known Hybrid protection organizations in the nation, and one of the most well credited. Unlike many other hybrid ‘rescues’, H4H took good care of their residents, treated them fairly and without abuse, tending to each hybrids unique needs in the most effective way possible.

You may or may not have read that off their website home page.

But it seemed legit enough. Namjoon approved of it, and you trusted Namjoon. He was good at this kind of thing.

“What’s with that face?” He nudged you gently in the side, breaking you from your train of thought.

“Just a little nervous. But it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you nodded confidently, eyes flickering over the exterior of the shelter. It was big. Really big. You wondered how many hybrids were inside. Probably hundreds. Maybe even thousands. Okay, that’s be an exaggeration, but possibly close to!

That thought alone sent another wave of unease over your restless mind.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Namjoon asked, concern obvious in his tone. He knew how you could be in these types of situations. You know, with decisions and all that. Especially life changing ones.

You quickly shook your head.

“No! No, I’m sure. I can do this by myself. I want to do this by myself,” you said, determination burning in your eyes. Your best friend smiled down at you adoringly, nodding in understanding.

“Alright. Good luck, Y/n,” He pecked your cheek, before turning to leave, only to pause at the feeling on your hand on his wrist. He looked back at you with furrowed brows, nearly melting into the damn floor at the look on your face.

This meant a lot to you. It really did. There weren’t a lot of important things in your life at the moment, but this was important. So important in fact that you’d spent the last few nights damn near tearing your hair out in a nauseating mixture of raw terror and unbridled excitement. Which was more overpowering was debatable.

“How… how will I know?”

He smiled reassuringly, flicking your forehead gently. “Trust this old dusty thing. You’ll just know. Don’t overthink it and don’t force it. If it’s meant to be, it’ll come naturally.”

You swallowed. “Okay. Okay, I’ve got this.”

“Damn right you got this,” He egged you on, playfully shoving you towards the massive center, “now go before you chicken out and bury your regret in a gallon of ice cream.”

Whipping around you threatening raised a hand at him, but he just laughed loudly and scurried out of arms reach, waving encouragingly as he got into his car. “You’ll be fine! I believe in you!”

You only flipped him the bird, earning a few looks from passerby’s.

“That Kim Namjoom,” you grumbled under your breath in aggravation, in spite of the smile that touched your lips.

With renewed confidence, you squared your shoulders, raising your chin as you struck a quick power pose. “I’ve got this.”

Yeah… you don’t got this.

As soon as you entered the building, your mind went blank. The lobby resembled that of a five star hotel, wide and modern and absolutely gorgeous. There were at least fifteen other people, some working there, others on a similar mission as you.

“Hello.”

You let out a yelp of shock, whipping around to come face to face with an unfamiliar boy.

He was very handsome, with brightly shining eyes and the kind of smile that would normally have you swooning in seconds had it not been for your buzzing nerves.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked a little lost and overwhelmed. I’m going to assume that it’s your first time?”

You could only nod, cheeks warming faintly. Had you really looked that out of place?

The boy’s smile widened and he politely raised a hand for you to shake, “my names Jung Hoseok. I work here, as you can probably guess by the uniform and name tag. I’d be glad to help you out, if you’d like?”

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself, cringing as your voice cracked, “and yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Right this way, Y/n.” He took a step back, extending an arm to gesture at two large glass doors. Stifling any remaining unease, you allowed him to guide you through, immediately filling with curiosity. There was a hallway with three more doors, each with a large label across the top. The first read domestic, the second aquatic, the third exotic. “Any specific preference?” He asked, turning to you with another bright smile.

“Uh… domestic?”

“Good choice, I usually recommend exotic and aquatic hybrids for experienced owners. They can be a bit more of a handful and far more high maintenance, especially when it comes to their unique requirements. They can be quite pricy.” He explained with a playful click of his tongue that coaxed a soft chuckle from your lips.

“I don’t doubt that,” you couldn’t imagine the kind of home a person would need to own an aquatic hybrid, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but do you have a hybrid of your own?”

“I do, actually! A grumpy munchkin cat hybrid, his names Yoongi. I adopted him from this very place four years ago. He’s actually the reason I became passionate about hybrids,” he gushed fondly, clasping his hands in front of him. His eyes shined as he spoke, betraying just how dearly he loved this Yoongi.

“Was he your first?” You questioned.

He nodded. “My first and only!”

Immediately any restraint you had on your curiosity burst like an overstretches rubber band. “What was it like? How’d you know that he was the one you wanted? And what was it like bringing him home for the first time? Did it just click or did it take time? You said he was grumpy, has he ever bitten or scratched you? Shit, none of these hybrids bite, do they? I don’t tolerate pain very well so I don’t know just how well I’d be able to cope with being bit or scratched or—”

You began to ramble off question after question, his eyes going wide as he tried to process your words as quickly as they came shooting from your lips. But his shocked expression quickly turned to a gentle smile. At the feeling of his hand resting gently on your shoulder, you quickly snapped your mouth shut, face heating as you realized your mistake.

Leave it to you to have the biggest mouth of the century.

Hoseok was quick to cut off the apology that was seconds from being spit from your mouth with soothing words, “you’re nervous. That’s okay, I was, too.”

“Really? I’m not just loosing my mind over nothing?” Your lips turned upwards sheepishly as your shoulders rose.

A bright laugh bubbled on his lips at that, quickly shaking his head. “No, no, not at all. You’re bringing an entirely new living being into your home. Someone that you’ll be responsible for not only taking care of, but loving and protecting to the best of your ability. If you do that, then they will show you that same love and compassion in return. It’s an relationship of mutualism, give and you will receive. Trust and you will be trusted.”

Trust and you will be trusted.

You stared up at the boy beside you in awe, amazed by his wisdom. “Shit, you really do know your stuff, huh?”

He playfully popped his collar, giving a modest shrug. “I try.” You laughed loudly, him grinning happily at having been able to ease a bit of the tension that had been weighing down your shoulders. “Now come on, its time to find you your perfect new family.”

Family. That’s right. Family. You liked the sound of it.

Excitement overwhelmed the previously buzzing nerves that now lay dormant.

You hovered close behind him, fidgeting as he swiped his key card over a recognition device, a low beeping sound filling the hall before a notable click. With one last smile shot in your direction, he pulled open the door.

And you swear to god, you damn near dropped dead at the sight before you (in the ‘it’s so fluffy you could die’ kind way).

Hybrids–fucking–galore.

It was like a little pet paradise. Toys for every species and massive bean bags adorned freshly polished hardwood floors.

And the hyrbids. Dear god they were adorable.

“Wow,” you murmured, heart warming at the sight of two young cat hybrids playing happily with a unwinding ball of yarn. There was a group of puppy hybrids wrestling in the corner, playfully batting at one another and rolling across the floor. You smiled, giggling quietly until a sharp yell of pain split through the upbeat atmosphere.

“You bit him!” One cried in shock.

“I–I didn’t mean to, it was an accident, I swear!” A dark brown haired boy with large eyes spoke frantically. He tried to reach for the one that had yelped only to be harshly shoved away, a growl tearing from his throat.

“This is why no one likes to play with you! Because you’re just a stupid mutt.”

“I’m sorry—”

“You should be. I better not get any of your filthy diseases.”

“I don’t have any d–diseases!”

“Liar, you’re a disgusting, diseased mutt. Why do you think no one ever wants to keep you?”

“Shut up!” The brown haired boy shouted, delivering a rough shove to the over boy’s shoulders, sending him flying to the ground.

“Tae!” Hoseok was quickly leaving your side, running over to the two as they began to fight in a much less playful way than before. You could only watch with wide eyes as he intervened, pulling the two growling pups away from each other. “Both of you calm down before you get your snack time taken for the next week!”

That shut them up real quick.

Crossing him arms over his chest, he glanced back and forth between the hybrid, a hard but concern expression on his face. “Would either of you like to explain what just happened.”

“Taehyung bit me!” The first and much larger boy was quick to bark out. Haha. Bark out. Get it because they’re both dog hybrids? No, okay. Moving on,

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Taehyung cried out desperately, “I tried to say sorry but he pushed me and started saying really mean things!”

“Did not.”

“Did to!”

“Hey! Stop that right now! You’re both acting like immature puppies, you know that is not how we behave.” They snapped their jaws shut obediently, heads lowering as they were scolded.

“I’m sorry, Hobi,” Taehyung whimpered, tugging at his sleeve meekly.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, Tae. You need to apologize to each other.”

He looked far less thrilled about that, but spit out a soft ‘sorry’ to the other hybrid nonetheless.

The larger grunted stubbornly, turning away, chin held up pridefully. “Sehun, apologize to Taehyung. Now.” Hoseok voice was quiet but surprisingly firm. Sehun let out a low sound of frustration, eyes flicking back over to where they stood.

“Sorry.”

“Very good, thank you. But you both know the consequences of fighting.” The two canines quietly whined in protest. “Ah–ah… none of that. After lunch and dinner you’ll both be helping the staff clean up and wash dishes. Now back to your rooms for an hour, alright?”

Sehun shot one last sharp glare in Taehyung’s direction before stalking off, fluffy golden tail lowered. Taehyung bit his lip, worriedly looking up at Hoseok. “I’m real sorry, Hobi. Are you mad at me?”

Hoseok rested a hand between Taehyung’s dark ears, scratching reassuringly. “No, of course I’m not mad, Tae. I know it was an accident.” The dark haired hybrid whimpered happily in relief, nodding and scampering off. But for a brief moment, his eyes met yours. You could’ve sworn a blush touched his cheeks before he offered a welcoming wave and disappeared behind a set of doors.

“You handled that incredibly well,” you chimed.

Hoseok chuckled softly, “you learn how to handle situations like that after a few go arounds.”

“Who were they?”

“Sehun and Taehyung? Sehun is a German Shepard hybrid. He hasn’t been here for too long. But Tae…” he sighed softly, shaking his head, “he’s been in and out of this place since he was five.”

“Shit.”

“I know. He’s a good boy, he really is. He’s just been dealt a bad hand,” suddenly, he got this really sad look on his face, gnawing at the inside of his cheek, “listen. I’m not supposed to tell anyone this, but…”

“But?” You urged, taking a step closer to him as his voice lowered.

“There was talk of him being put down if it doesn’t get adopted soon.”

Horror. Absolute horror.

“P–put down?” You repeated, praying that he would say you misheard. He nodded sadly, lips tightening. “That’s… that’s horrible. I didn’t realize this was a kill shelter.”

“It’s not meant to be. They’ve never put a single hybrid down before that I know of. But the higher ups are saying that his quality of life will just keep declining if he continues to be adopted and sent back. Things like that take their tole on hybrids mental health, which subsequently affects their physical health. Hybrids that suffer from mental illnesses are ten times more likely to become ill and far less likely to recover from something as seemingly simple as the common cold.”

“I never knew that.”

“Naturally, hybrids seek companionship. We all do to some extent, but hybrids with their animal counterparts actually need it. It’s not a matter of what looks good for the shelter. It’s a matter of whether this hybrid will be driven to extremes.”

“Extremes?”

“It’s possible that he may become feral.“

You felt yourself stiffen.

You’d done enough research to know what feral meant. His animal instincts would take over his mind, all human aspects ground into dust. He would become a danger to anyone around him. And would more likely than not end up being put down.

But you couldn’t picture the sweet boy with the big brown eyes becoming something so vicious and inhuman.

“That’s awful,” you muttered, more to yourself than to the worker beside you. He nodded in agreement nonetheless. Suddenly, you turned to him, eyes wide, “I would like to meet him.”

His own eyes enlarged hopefully, “really? You genuinely mean it? Because I don’t think he can take being let down again—”

“I mean it, Hoseok. I want to meet him.”

You could see how he was trying desperately to stifle his blossoming excitement.

“I’ll take you to his room!”

818 notes · View notes

harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // Introduction

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, allusion to sexual content, perhaps the Most Extra OC I’ve written to date

WC: 2.2k

----------

Penny closes one eye and scrunches up her face, digging through her S/S 2018 monogrammed Louis Vuitton tote for her work phone. It buzzes hard, rattling against her Oliver Peoples sunglasses, until she can fling some chestnut hair from her face and answer it.

“Caught me just before we’re leaving for the airport,” she says breezily, squinting out the bay window of the whitewashed St. Lucia suite looking over the lapis ocean, “What’s up?”

“I have such a treat for you,” chuckles Silver.

A familiar thrill shoots down Penny’s spine. She swallows and casts a glance around the room for her vacation companion. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Who is it?”

Silver, being Silver, pauses for dramatic effect.

“It’s Shawn Mendes.”

A pause. Penny’s well kept brow furrows.

“Who?”

Niall first realized something was really wrong when Shawn didn’t want to go to 40 Love. In fact, he didn’t want to go anywhere. Niall had to go to him, to his house in Beachwood Canyon, just to see his old friend.

He eyes him warily, watching Shawn stare out the window overlooking the Hills. He’s got a guitar pick in the pocket of his sweats. His fingers fumble with it while he thinks.

“So… things are bad,” Niall guesses.

Shawn takes too long to shrug and angle his head back at Niall. “Not… bad. Just weird.”

Niall leans forward, propping his elbows up on his knees and holding his beer bottle aloft, examining the shedding label.

“I get it. It’s a weird situation. Honestly, I… I was pretty surprised.”

Shawn bobs his head and feels his jaw tighten against his will. “I think a lot of people are.”

Niall is quiet for almost a full minute. He shakes a hand through his coarse brown hair. “I get it, though. I mean, you know I do, mate. Going from teenager to adult in this business is somethin’ most people don’t even get to do. But doin’ it… it’s hard. So I get it, why this thing makes sense for ya.”

Shawn is silent, fidgeting in front of the window.

Niall lifts a shoulder, looking to lighten the mood. “Least she’s not a nightmare.”

It gets a short, rough chuckle from Shawn, which Niall considers progress. Shawn finally turns looking worse for wear as he shuffles to sit in the armchair across from the couch, shoulders hunched, legs spread.

“I don’t think I would’ve agreed to a publicity stunt relationship with someone I hate,” He pauses and chews on the inside of his lip, “I dunno, maybe I would’ve at this point.”

Niall lowers his gaze. He recognizes the old, faded remnants of Catholic guilt in his gut and does what he can to tamp them down. His progression from teen heartthrob of One Direction fame to singer-songwriter hasn’t been easy in comparison to Shawn’s. Hell, he’ll always be one of the 1D boys -- there’s really no changing that. He’s made his peace with it.

His young friend, 21 now and in the industry since he was 15, has to do the same. Niall’s been paying attention. Shawn Mendes has been stratospheric for a while. His third album was a massive success. He sold out arenas on a world tour that even One Direction’s *cough* ambitious management wouldn’t sniff at. But the Armani smart watch ads and even the Calvin Klein campaign haven’t saved him from being a “prince of pop.”

It’s not the worst thing you can be called, Shawn and Niall both know. But it’s diminutive, it’s a little condescending, it’s sweet. Shawn has always been sweet. He is the ultimate nice Canadian boy, the antidote to Bieber’s downfall.

But he’s growing the fuck up and the rest of it -- the music, the tours, the image -- it has to grow, too.

It was Shawn and Bex’s shared publicist who first mentioned the idea. Bex, single name, like Madonna, is an old friend. She’s a Nickelodeon star-turned-pop singer who came up around the same time Shawn was sitting in a computer chair posting to Vine and YouTube. He likes Bex, she’s cool. They’ve written together and yeah, they’ve fucked a couple times when they were drunk and needed distractions from their own lives for various reasons. But he doesn’t get that feeling about Bex. He knows the feeling is out there. But that’s not what this thing with her is for.

“It’s a proven effective way to age you up in the public’s eyes,” Emily advised him, doing that thing where she dips her chin a little toward her chest and widens her eyes, the ‘you really should listen to me’ face, “And aging you up is the only way to get you where you really want to go. The teenage girls can get you places. Fuck, they can even make you a legend. But they can’t get you the world’s respect.”

Shawn thought it was insane at first. Lie about a relationship? Isn’t that kind of seedy? Won’t people see right through it?

He shifts uncomfortably in the chair. He still wonders these things sometimes. But the righteous indignation he felt last year when it came up is an ancient memory. He picks moodily at his own beer bottle sitting on the arm of the chair.

“You see someone, right? Like a therapist?” Niall verifies. Shawn nods absently.

Niall goes silent again for longer than usual. Shawn looks up to see his friend pensive.

“What?”

Niall shrugs and lifts his eyes to Shawn’s carefully. “Not the only thing you could be doing to manage this. The stress, ya know? And anxiety.”

Shawn bristles the way he does whenever someone suggests he’s not doing enough of something. Before he can open his mouth, Niall steps on his own words.

“I mean, ya know, there’s someone else ya can be seein’.”

Shawn’s face is blank. Niall’s going to have to explain the idea as painfully and awkwardly as it was explained to him by a friend a couple years ago.

“I’ve been seein’ a girl on and off for three years. Not always the same one, I mean. For stress relief.”

Shawn, as sweet and doe-eyed as he doesn’t want to be, isn’t picking up what Niall’s putting down.

“What, like a chiropractor?” Shawn guesses, his brow creasing.

Niall slugs back the last slurp of his beer. “No, like a domme.”

Penny waits until she’s back in her three bedroom Studio City home, quiet and removed in the hills just like she likes, to call Silver back.

Gus, her favorite agency driver, picked her up from the Santa Monica airport after she kissed one of her favorite clients, Victor Calhoun, goodbye and hauled in all her luggage from a week in St. Lucia. For barely needing to be dressed at all for a week, she brought a ton of shit with her. She makes a mental note to rethink that for next time, but she also thinks Victor likes that she’s high maintenance. Or seemingly high maintenance, she thinks with a smile as she pads barefoot around her cottage in panties and an old t-shirt, bag of popcorn in hand.

She drops onto her couch while the phone rings on speaker in her lap. She stretches out her slender legs, admiring her robust tan.

“Hey, bitch.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” Penny laughs, dropping some popped kernels into her mouth, “Been holding down the fort ok?”

“Yes, believe it or not, I survived a week without you. How was St. Lucia? Was Victor a very good boy?”

Penny smirks. “Always. So good, in fact, I’ve been taking low doses of muscle relaxants for three days to keep myself from getting lockjaw.”

Silver snorts. “That man loves a blow job.”

Penny sifts through some burnt kernels, locating an extra buttery looking piece toward the bottom of the bag and eyeing it like treasure.

“So,” she begins, crunching indelicately into the phone, “Tell me about Shawn Mendes. Who referred him?”

“Niall Horan.”

“Oh, he’s been seeing Karina, right?”

“Yep, she keeps him very much in line. He’s quiet about La Splendeur -- he’s not the guy telling all his friends about how much he’s paying to get dommed by a call girl. He’s selective with his referrals.”

Penny lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. “Those are usually our favorite kind of clients, I guess.”

Silver snorts. “Less messy, certainly. Anyway, Karina adores him, so that bodes well.”

“Who, Shawn?”

“No, actually, as far as I can tell, he’s new. None of my contacts have a history of him seeing anyone.”

Now Penny is really intrigued. It’s not that often she gets a client that has never seen a call girl before. Being a courtesan, the elitest of the elite escorts, clients generally work their way up the food chain to her.

But he’s new. Fresh, untouched, curious. Silver’s right. This is a special treat.

“Well, I downloaded his music, so I’ll have a listen. I recognize a few of the tracks. Anything else I should know?”

“Well, babe, no client history means you start from scratch, research-wise. I’d say be prepared for anything. He seems like your usual sweet, pretty boy, which as you know, can mean anything goes.”

Penny bobs her head thoughtfully, already mentally scanning wardrobe options and toys.

“When?”

“Thursday at 8, Chateau. Give you some time to recover from your potential lockjaw.”

Penny’s laugh is loud and sizzling, one she rarely uses in front of clients, but she and Silver have known each other a long time.

“Good. Plus, I like a few days of anticipation for new guys. Gets ‘em all worked up before I even get in the door.”

“And that is why you’re worth every Penny.”

Penny rolls her eyes and hangs up on the millionth time Silver has made that same adorably stupid joke.

Penny’s always liked the Chateau Marmont. It was the site of her first appointment. She remembers being nauseous with nerves walking through the doors that night, sure she’d be arrested just for stepping foot inside. She felt like she had the word “NEFARIOUS” stamped across her pretty forehead.

But she held her head high and focused on the rhythm of her Jimmy Choos, purchased especially for the occasion, on the fine marble floor. As instructed, she didn’t even spare a glance for the front desk. She strode in, not too fast, not too slow, and headed straight for the elevators. The concierge would recognize her from a picture passed along by her madam, Silver, and let her by without a problem. That’s one of Silver’s treasured trade secrets -- most working girls choose lower key locations for dates. Hiding in plain sight, especially at tourist attractions, heavily reduces suspicion, hence why Silver struck up a deal with the Chateau’s concierge years ago. Her girls get a pass, he gets a cut.

The booking is made under the name of the driver who arrives early to check in and drop off Penny’s suitcase while she window shops nearby or grabs a glass of wine at the bar. When the client arrives and is OK’d by the driver for security reasons, Penny gets a text and makes her entrance. Before the driver excuses himself to the car, he checks in with Silver to make sure the client’s wire transfer is complete. Once those initial checkpoints are crossed, the night is Penny’s.

Tonight is no different, really, Penny tells herself as she steps out of the Bentley, offered a hand by the Chateau’s valet. She sneaks him a sultry smile just because getting men squirming for her before she even meets her client feels like a good way to hype up.

But it feels different, somehow. The Hollywood evening’s breeze is especially pleasant, the hotel is especially quiet, and the night especially charged as she heads inside hugged in tastefully cut black satin and wearing her favorite black Roger Viviers. She ignores the way the hair on the back of her smooth olive neck stands on end when the elevator dings upon arrival to the specified floor.

Gus, standing outside the door in a dark suit with his arms crossed, gives her a nod, indicating all is set and well. She rises on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. She knows by now she can’t make Gus squirm, so she doesn’t try. He stands aside and opens the door.

He’s sitting on the couch, facing the windows on the opposite wall. His posture is hunched and she can see his shoulders are broad. She tries not to lick her lips.

He turns slightly, looking over his shoulder. His profile catches the orange lamplight. It’s even more magnificent in person. Penny feels a jolt from her squished toes up her very straight spine. She smiles.

He stands, one hand limp by his side, the other clutching a sweating glass of bourbon. Penny can’t wait to taste it on his pretty lips.

Facing her, his jaw tightens, muscles flexing, and his eyes darken just a shade, or maybe she imagines it because she bets hers do the same.

“Penny?”

His voice is a croak. He notices -- he goes magenta moments later. The familiar animal that lives in her stirs, stretching, limbering up.

“Hi, Shawn.”

-------

Ooooh it’s that time again! Ya girl has a new solo series to sink her teeth into. If you’re happy and you know it, buy me a Ko-fi (link on main page)!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes series

312 notes · View notes

poetzproblem · 5 years

Text

Have You Ever Really? Part IV

Author’s Note: Part IV, not by request. Under the cut, or read at FF.Net or AO3.

Rachel has a list.

A very thorough, carefully thought-out list.

It's divided into appropriate love songs with which to serenade Quinn, endearing gifts with which to woo her, and potential date-like activities with which to wow her should this endeavor progress to that stage of courtship.

Because that is exactly what Rachel is doing—courting Quinn Fabray.

And she might still be having just the tiniest bit of trouble wrapping her mind around the fact.

She'd honestly expected to be slapped down—quite literally.

In fairness, Quinn had immediately apologized for that unfortunate burst of temper at prom, and the guilt and remorse shining in her eyes had screamed of sincere regret. Also in fairness, Rachel hadn't been lying about appreciating the drama of it. In fact, it's quite possible that her imagination had immediately conjured up an equally dramatic kiss to follow the slap—something right out of the movies—regardless of the rather unhealthy nature of that particular fantasy. It's also possible that having that fantasy about Quinn Fabray had been one of the things to make her realize that she does, in fact, like Quinn like that.

The list of potential serenades had been drawn up as a sort of therapy for Rachel while she'd been deciding just what to do with the new knowledge that she was attracted to Quinn—and, really, to girls in general. The rest of the list—well, that had been compiled as soon as Quinn had presented her with the opportunity to pursue her attraction.

Granted, her pursuit hasn't been entirely without a few minor setbacks.

First, Finn had decided to ruin their perfectly professional (and potentially competition-winning) duet with an unwanted kiss after she'd repeatedly rebuffed his attempts to win her back with a (perhaps too) gentle reminder that she has feelings for someone else. (Really. His denial about that someone being Quinn has been very frustrating.)

Then, Rachel might have slightly overestimated Quinn's unexpected openness to her attention by choosing to sing She's Always A Woman to her in front of the club. Rachel still maintains that it's a perfectly acceptable love song. She was only attempting to acknowledge that, despite recognizing all of Quinn's flaws, Rachel is still completely enamoured with her.

Explaining that to Quinn had helped to make up for the minor snafu, along with the homemade I'm Sorry cookies and Rachel's next, much more carefully chosen serenade. Perhaps the glee club hadn't fully appreciated her efforts, but it had gotten the job done.

In fact, it had gone well enough for Rachel to jump down three spots on her gift list, breaking into Quinn's locker on their final day of school to leave a stuffed teddy bear with a t-shirt stating I Love You Bear-y Much. (Rachel hadn't been able to resist.) That seemed to go over fairly well too—at least, it did if Quinn's blush and adorable little grin were anything to go by.

(Rachel totally hadn't been lying in wait down the hallway in order to watch her reaction.)

Rachel most certainly had watched Quinn's reaction while singing I'll Be to her in glee.

It had been very favorable—even if Quinn had been trying very, very hard not to let anyone else realize it.

That's what bolsters Rachel's courage to actually ask Quinn out—or at least make some tangible plan to continue courting her through the summer.

(Rachel really, really wants to keep courting Quinn over the summer. This unexpected openness of Quinn's has opened up an entire world of possibilities right before Rachel's eyes. The girl is seriously sexy and flirty and just—ugh! No wonder Finn had kept going back to her again and again and again.)

Maybe Rachel will even get to discover firsthand what it's like to kiss Quinn Fabray.

(Please, Barbra, let her get to discover that.)

But she's getting seriously ahead of herself.

First things first. She has to ask Quinn out.

Just—

"Go out with me?"

Rachel nearly grimaces the moment she says it. She really had intended for that to come out in a far more romantic way—and a more romantic setting, though she's starting to suspect that bathrooms might just be their thing. Maybe she should have put it in song.

An amused smirk pulls up the corner of Quinn's lips, and her eyes glint with specks of green. "Do you think four serenades, a gardenia, and a teddy bear are enough to earn you a date?"

"Technically, there were five serenades," Rachel points out. "My coming out song was obviously for you," she needlessly reminds Quinn.

Quinn arches a singular eyebrow. (It's entirely too sexy for Rachel's mental health.) "There were four," she insists sternly. "We're so not counting Tuesday."

Rachel makes the calculated decision to not argue the point. Again. "Have I at least wooed you enough to earn the opportunity to continue...outside of normal school hours?" she asks, gesturing around to the empty bathroom. "Seeing that we're about to bid adieu to this place for the summer."

Quinn giggles, shaking her head. "What does it say about me that I suddenly find your weird loquaciousness cute?"

Rachel can feel a flush of pleasure crawl up her neck. "I think it says that you take advanced English with a four point five grade-point average and read a new five hundred page novel every week. Hence your easy use of the word loquaciousness."

"I don't think that's it," Quinn muses with a tender smile that makes Rachel nearly lose her breath. "Thank you for the teddy bear, by the way," she husks, stepping closer. "He's also very cute. And," she pauses, catching her lip between her teeth as she gazes at Rachel through her lashes, "kind of forward with his slogan tee."

Rachel swallows, nodding. "I...I wanted to make my case for...for our continued interactions."

Quinn chuckles. "You mean, the date you want me to agree to?"

"It doesn't have to be a date," Rachel hedges, grasping for whatever contact Quinn will allow her. "We can just...hang out. Get to know each other better."

That eyebrow inches up again. "That's generally what dating is, Rachel."

Nervously licking her lips, Rachel nods again. "It is. But I realize that actually dating me might...still be outside of your comfort zone, so I'm willing to engage in...friendly outings if you prefer."

Quinn gazes at her thoughtfully for a long moment before sighing. "Maybe I am still a little uncertain about doing all of this in public," she admits. "I mean, I can't tell my mother about this." She gestures between them. "Not yet...and maybe not ever. But Rachel, if we're going to...hang out," she practically purrs the words, "it will be a date."

"It will?" Rachel asks dumbly, heart racing from Quinn's words and her proximity.

Quinn smiles again—that sultry, seductive one that just lures a person in. "It will. And you'll be picking me up at seven. Tomorrow night," she decides. "I expect you'll plan something appropriately private so we can," her lips curve even more, "get to know each other better."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "Did...did you just ask me out?"

Quinn laughs, shaking her head. "No, Rachel. You asked me out. I just said yes." She lifts a hand to gently brush the back of her fingers across Rachel's jaw. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Rachel breathes out, nodding stupidly. She can feel the grin blooming on her face. "Yeah, you will."

Holy Broadway! She's got a date with Quinn Fabray!

She barely even registers cleaning out her locker for the year. She's too preoccupied with thoughts of her pending date. And the moment she gets home, she races to her bedroom where she obsessively pours over her list of potential date-like activities, searching for the perfect one that is private but still romantic but not too forward because she'd already mucked up asking Quinn out in any kind of romantic way and she's not about to do that again!

What she settles on is—

"Stargazing?" Quinn repeats skeptically.

Rachel grips the steering wheel a little more tightly. "It's stupid, isn't it?" she laments, frowning. "We can go to a movie instead. Or dinner. At a restaurant," she rushes out, ignoring the carefully packed picnic basket in the back seat. "Not Breadstix obviously. Maybe the Thai place on Pine Street." That seems appropriately off the beaten path.

Quinn reaches over to curl a hand around her wrist, bringing her rambling to a stop. "It's fine, Rachel," she says with a reassuring smile. "Stargazing sounds nice. We'll have a chance to talk."

Rachel exhales in relief, smiling in gratitude. "That was my thought." Also—being alone with Quinn under the stars.

So she drives them just outside of town to the OSU campus, feeling a bit apprehensive when she notices that Quinn is once again looking a little unimpressed. "Should we be here?" she asks warily as she glances around at the empty parking lot, just off Campus Drive next to a little copse of trees.

"The spring semester is over, and none of the summer classes meet on Fridays," Rachel assures her. "It's pretty dead this time of year." The students are all off campus, enjoying their weekends, and the handful of professors who teach summer courses are likely gone by now as well. There are probably only a few maintenance workers and custodians around tonight.

"One of your dads teaches here, right?"

Rachel glances at her in surprise. She didn't expect Quinn to know that—or to remember it. "Hiram," she clarifies. "He teaches computer science."

Quinn nods. "A techie. I would have guessed music or theater."

Rachel laughs, shaking her head. "He does love both of those things as much as I do, but he chose to keep them as beloved hobbies, free from the pressures of monetary compensation. I suppose there's some wisdom in that."

"But not for you," Quinn easily surmises, a fond smile dancing on her lips.

Rachel shrugs. "I can't imagine doing anything other than performing. Obviously, I'm hoping the monetary compensation will follow, but it isn't about that for me."

Quinn's smile turns teasing. "It's about the applause."

"Well, of course," Rachel concedes with a grin. "But also pursuing my passion with everything in me."

Quinn's breath hitches, and her eyes seem to darken ever so slightly "Yeah, you do seem to do that."

Oh.

She's kind of doing it right now, and she'd really like to keep doing it—which means that she really shouldn't lean in to taste Quinn's lips before they've even had a chance to really start their date, no matter how tempting Quinn looks right now.

Rachel clears her throat. "I packed a picnic." She gestures to the back seat. "It's just some veggie wraps and pasta salad." She doesn't mention that they're both vegan. "And raspberry bars for dessert." Also vegan.

"I love raspberry," Quinn murmurs with a pleased smile.

Rachel hums a vague acknowledgement. She may have remembered Finn mentioning it once in passing. It seems that she really has been quite interested in Quinn for a lot longer than she'd realized.

"There's a spot just down there," she points to the small clearing between the trees, "closer to the baseball field, where we can spread out a blanket and watch the sunset until the stars come out."

"Somewhere private?" Quinn asks, arching that eyebrow of hers.

Rachel nods. "I know it's not the most romantic place for our first date, but it's far enough away from town to cut down on the light pollution and still be publicly accessible, semi private, and...well...relatively safe."

Quinn tilts her head as she studies Rachel with a speculative look in her eyes. "You've really thought all of this out." It's not a question.

"Are you surprised?"

Quinn shakes her head, laughing lightly, and it's the most beautiful sound. "I'm really not."

She's not even all that surprised when Rachel shows her the cooler she brought along containing water (both regular and sparkling in six different flavors), three kinds of juices, and one milk. "I wasn't sure what you might like."

Quinn only laughs again, choosing a bottle of lemon sparkling water.

They spread out their blanket on the wide expanse of grass behind left field, close to the treeline but away from the obstruction of any overhead branches. The trees act as as a barrier between the parking lot and the field, obscuring them from the view of anyone driving through the main campus.

It's easy to focus on the food when they first settle down. The conversation is less easy—at least at first.

"You know, I've never actually been out here," Quinn eventually says. "I guess I should let you give me the tour, since this is probably where I'll be after graduation."

Rachel drops the last bite of her raspberry bar onto her plate with a frown. "Don't be ridiculous," she chastises. "You're second in our class." It's been a continuous annoyance for Rachel that she can't seem to edge out Quinn in the battle for salutatorian. (It's pretty much a given at this point that neither of them will be able beat Mike for valedictorian.) "You'll get into any school you apply to. You could probably even get into Harvard. Or Yale."

Quinn stares at her for a long moment with an unreadable expression. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do," Rachel confirms easily. "The question is, why don't you?"

Quinn looks away, chewing on the corner of her lip. "I don't know." She shrugs awkwardly. "Maybe because...no one else expects me to be anything more than the pretty prom queen who screws up her life by getting pregnant and gets stuck in her hometown married to her loser boyfriend."

She sounds so angry at herself when she says it, and Rachel can't help but recall another very similar conversation they'd had not that long ago—only at the time, Rachel hadn't understood that Quinn's vision of her future with Finn wasn't ever meant to be something Rachel should covet. But she thinks she understands now.

"That's not who you are, Quinn," Rachel inisists, setting her plate aside. "Not if you don't want to be." Quinn looks at her again with shining eyes. "You told me I don't belong here," she recalls with brand new comprehension. "But neither do you. The mistakes you've made don't have to define you. You can do anything. Be anything."

Quinn exhales unsteadily, turning her head and brushing her fingers beneath her eyes. "What if I don't know what that is?" She shakes her head, glancing back to Rachel with a sad smile. "Not everyone is as certain about what they want as you are, Rachel."

"Maybe you don't have to be," Rachel reasons with a shrug. "Maybe that's what college is for. Or...or maybe it just happens when it happens. I don't know," she concedes, holding Quinn's gaze. "But I do know the only way it even has a chance of happening is if you open yourself up to the possibility. And while OSU Lima isn't a bad school by any means, if you have other options," she makes sure to meet those hazel eyes head on, "and Quinn, you definitely do...why not explore them?"

Quinn stares at her with a trace of wonder in her expression. "Wow. You're really taking that whole give her wings when she wants to fly thing seriously, aren't you?"

It takes Rachel a moment to pick up on the reference, but when she does, she can actually feel her face catch fire. But she tries to play it off. "I...I think that's what you should do when you care about someone in general."

Quinn draws in a careful breath. "I think...you deserve to have someone do that for you too."

Rachel does not disagree. She just can't quite tell if Quinn is speaking in generals or to a very specific someone that Rachel very much hopes is Quinn. "I actually feel like...maybe you've tried to do that a few times already. Sending me on my way, and all that," she recalls with a tentative grin. "I just wasn't understanding you at the time."

The sun is quickly sinking low in the sky, bathing the world in hues of orange and red, but Rachel is almost certain that the color she's seeing on Quinn's cheeks has nothing to do with the current lighting. "Don't give me too much credit, Rachel." she warns. "I wanted you to stay away from Finn."

"By reminding me I'm meant for bigger and better things than Lima," Rachel points out, only really considering now what it means that Quinn had chosen that approach.

Quinn shrugs. "It's true."

"You know, most people generally try to belittle my talent and tell me I'm dreaming too big...that I'll never make it on Broadway...but you never have."

Quinn sighs, her expression going soft. "I never could. No matter what else I might have felt about you before, I've always been in awe of your talent." Rachel's entire being flushes with pleasure, even more so when Quinn admits, "And it's impossible not to admire your ambition."

"Not so impossible for everyone else." In fact, they generally find her ambition off-putting—even Finn had while he'd claimed to love her.

Quinn frowns. "Well, they're stupid. And probably jealous. Don't listen to them."

If Rachel wasn't already nearly certain that she's in love with Quinn, she would be now. She almost says it, but she doesn't want to freak Quinn out. She's still stunned that she hasn't freaked her out already with everything else. "And you wanted to know how I could like you," she murmurs in awe, reaching out to touch Quinn's hand where it's resting on the blanket.

She's pretty sure that Quinn is blushing again, and she's absolutely certain the bashful smile on her face is the loveliest thing she's ever seen. And then Quinn is moving her hand, turning it over to tentatively link their fingers together, and Rachel just about loses her breath. "I think I kind of like you too," Quinn says softly, as if she can't quite believe she's saying it.

Rachel can't quite believe it either, but her heart is practically soaring up to the stars that will soon be appearing in the sky. She only smiles and holds Quinn's hand more tightly to keep from flying away.

And Quinn lets her.

Together, they watch the sun set and the stars begin to shine, and they sink down onto the blanket to gaze up at the heavens. Rachel points out the constellations, quietly reciting the myths associated with them. She has a feeling Quinn already knows them, but she seems content to listen to Rachel talk.

Until she isn't.

Quinn shifts on the blanket, turning onto her side and propping her head on her hand as she looks down at Rachel with a contemplative expression on her face. Rachel's words trail off under Quinn's intent gaze.

"Quinn? You're supposed to be looking at the stars."

Quinn's lips slowly curl into a mysterious smile. "I am. I'm looking at the brightest one."

And Rachel's heart is just gone—rocketing up into the atmosphere and bouncing around between the stars before landing right in the palm of Quinn's hand. A breathless, "Oh," is all Rachel can manage.

And then Quinn is shifting again, moving closer, and Rachel's lips part in surprise and she can barely remember to breath because—

Oh.

Oh, her lips are so soft and warm and—

Finn was not wrong about the fireworks.

Rachel feels like she's flying apart, exploding into a million sparks of colorful light that catch the universe on fire. And when Quinn moans against her lips and deepens the kiss, Rachel knows she isn't the only one who's feeling it.

She knows without a doubt that she just found one more dream to chase, and Quinn is going to help her catch it.

#have you ever really?#faberry #ficlet

35 notes · View notes

pikapeppa · 5 years

Text

Fenris/f!Hawke smut: The Night Before

Chapter 25 of Lovers In A Dangerous Time (i.e. Fenris the Inquisitor) is up on AO3!

In which Fenris and Rynne Hawke spend some quality time together the night before the siege on Adamant Fortress. NSFW.

Read on AO3; ~3600 words.

*******************

Fenris trudged up the stairs to the upper level of the Griffon’s Keep. He made his way toward the secluded alcove where Rylen had set up a small tent for him and Hawke, and he managed a small smile and a nod for every soldier who greeted him.

By the time he reached the tent, however, he was more than ready to let the smile drop from his face. He sighed and removed his armour, carefully brushing the sand from every joint before arranging it neatly on a nearby table, then crawled into the tent.

Two bedrolls were already laid out side-by-side, along with a small alchemical lamp. Fenris made a mental note to thank Rylen in the morning, then set about rearranging the bedrolls, laying one out like a pallet and the other like a blanket so he and Hawke could share their bedding and their body heat as they usually did.

He sat heavily on the bedrolls, then closed his eyes and simply breathed. The clank of weapons being cleaned and ladles in cooking pots competed with the lively chatter of soldiers joshing around, and Fenris simply listened for a moment.

The sounds weren’t unusual; weapon maintenance and cooking and conversation were common at any military camp. But the mood tonight was different. It was charged somehow, a few shades too energetic to be called truly relaxed – like dancing on the fine line of excitement and anxiety.

They were marching on Adamant Fortress tomorrow. That was the difference. The Inquisition’s soldiers were a mixture of experienced and new, and when Fenris was walking down among the troops who were camped outside the keep, he’d heard the experienced soldiers pepping up their greener counterparts, reassuring them and passing on advice. He’d seen soldiers praying together, singing lewd songs and making lewd jokes and generally fostering a cheerful atmosphere – as cheerful as could be expected, knowing the risks that would come tomorrow.

It was those risks that weighed on Fenris’s mind now as he sat alone in the tent. He’d shoved those risks to the back of his mind as he wandered through the army camp at Hawke’s side, but there was a writhing worry in his gut that wouldn’t abate.

People would die. There was no getting around that. Every pair of eyes he’d met and every smile he’d returned was a face that he might see tomorrow lying lifeless on the ground.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The irony of the situation was this: Fenris was the leader of the Inquisition. He was the one man who was supposedly in charge of everyone here. But he had never been part of a major organized battle like this before.

Oh, he’d fought in countless battles, certainly; gang fights and scraps galore, and more skirmishes than he could ever possibly remember. But the only major military battle he’d been involved in was the Kirkwall Rebellion, and that battle had been sudden and unexpected.

There had been no preparation time for the battle in Kirkwall. None of them had known that that fight was going to happen until suddenly it was upon them. And aside from that short and torturous period of time when they’d been cloistered in the Gallows with the mages, waiting for the Templars to attack, there had been little to no time for Fenris to ruminate about what could happen.

The current situation was completely different. The assault on Adamant Fortress was as meticulously planned as possible, thanks to Cullen’s impeccable command. And that meant that Fenris had time to think about what could happen tomorrow – far too much time.

Maybe it was a mistake to escape the noise and activity of the army camp to be alone.

“Fenris?”

He looked up as Hawke poked her head through the tent flap. She smiled at him. “Hey there,” she said softly. “I’m just going to take off my kit and my boots. I think there’s enough sand in them to build a replica of this keep.”

Fenris cleared his throat. “Hopefully not a replica that is to scale,” he joked.

Her laughter floated through the tent flap. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” she said. A couple of minutes later, she slipped into the tent wearing just her trousers and her cotton undershirt.

She sat beside him. “You did well down there,” she said. “Being the wise and encouraging leader. I think it really cheered them up to see you walking around. You know, because you’re so handsome.” She batted her eyelashes.

He smirked. “I beg to disagree. I believe your beauty is to thank for their boosted morale.”

She laughed. “You smooth talker,” she said happily. She stretched out on her side and propped her cheek on her fist, then coyly patted the bedroll beside her.

Fenris lay on his back beside her, and she shifted closer and slung one leg over his. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

He folded one arm behind his head. “Fine,” he said. He snuck his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt and idly stroked the curve of her hip.

She shot him a chiding look. “Fenris. Come on. You can talk to me.”

“About what?” he said.

“About tomorrow,” Hawke said. “You know, this whole huge siege situation we’re going into. I hope it won’t take too long for Cullen’s people to get us through the gates and into the fortress proper. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to crash the blood magic party. ‘Hey demons, better run for your lives – oh wait, most of you haven’t got legs.’” She laughed softly and rubbed the collar of his shirt between her fingers.

She was nervous. It was obvious in her smile and her downcast eyes. This was exactly what Fenris had been trying to ward off.

He smoothed his palm along her back and dredged up a smile. “You’ll have to save the largest pride demons for me. I’ll remove their legs so they cannot run from you.”

She grinned at him briefly, then tilted her head. “You’re humouring me.”

“I am always humouring you,” Fenris said. “You are fairly ridiculous most of the time.”

She laughed again, then pinched his earlobe. “I’m serious,” she said. “You don’t have to put on a show for me. Are you nervous about tomorrow?”

“Are you?” he said.

She shot him another chiding glance at his obvious deflection, then sighed and rested her chin on his chest. “Of course. This is a weird situation. The waiting before the battle…” She grimaced. “I don’t like it. I’d rather go flying in by the seat of my pants than sit around waiting like this. Or, you know, not get involved in any battle at all. Alas, we can’t always get what we want.”

“I agree,” Fenris said quietly.

She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. “You do?”

Fenris nodded. “I am unaccustomed to this kind of waiting. I find it unnerving as well.”

She sat up on her elbows. “Have you never been in a big planned battle before, then?”

He shook his head. “Such waiting is the purview of a soldier, and I have never been that. I trained in combat, but only for Danarius’s protection. And then in a different way with the fog warriors, of course. But even then, the fog warriors are stealth attackers,” he explained. “We knew who we were going to hit and when, but the hits happened swiftly. The goal was always to take lives quickly and leave none behind, and the vast majority of the time, we were successful.”

Hawke nodded slowly. “That’s… very different than tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Fenris said quietly. “Tomorrow…” He hesitated, then sighed. “Many people will die tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Hawke murmured. “Kind of feels like right before the Templars attacked us in the Gallows, doesn’t it?”

He looked at her. That was exactly what he’d been thinking.

She was smiling still, but beneath the lovely mask of her smile, her true feelings were evident in the tilt of her eyebrows: she was scared.

He swallowed hard as his own suppressed fear rose in his belly. “We’ll be all right, Hawke,” he told her quietly. “I will protect you.”

She shook her head. “No,” she said firmly. “I’ll protect you, remember. I’ve been practicing at casting barriers one right after the other for if we’re separated – one for me, one for you.” She frowned fiercely at him. “You have to let me protect you tomorrow.”

He clenched his jaw against the instinctive refusal that was clamouring at the back of his tongue. Her frown deepened, and finally he sighed.

“All right,” he grunted, and he watched as her shoulders relaxed a bit. “But you must remember to keep a defensive role. Stay back from the worst of the danger. None of your usual bursting into the thick of the battle. Promise me.”

She inhaled, then blew out a gusty breath and nodded. “All right, I promise,” she said.

They gazed at each other in silence for a long and loaded moment. Then Hawke nervously licked her lips. “Fenris, I’m… I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

A nearly-painful surge of tenderness closed his throat for a moment. He carefully breathed through it and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. “There is nothing that will tear me from your side. You know that.”

She lowered her eyes and didn’t reply, and Fenris gently tilted her chin up until she was forced to meet his gaze. “I will fell anyone or anything that tries to stand between us, Hawke,” he murmured. “That is my promise to you.”

She swallowed hard, then smiled. “I like that plan,” she said. “So full of good murderous plans, you are. That’s why you’re the Inquisitor.”

He scoffed softly as Hawke shifted higher on his body. “I hope that is not why. It’s a poor criterion for choosing a leader.”

She smiled and brushed his nose with hers. “It’s good enough for me,” she whispered, and she kissed him.

He parted his lips for her, and her tongue brushed against his in a soft press of heat. She shifted between his legs, and he slipped his hands inside the back of her shirt to feel the smooth heat of her skin. Her fingers stroked his neck and the tender spot behind his ear, and then she was turning his head to the side and lowering her lips to his neck.

She brushed his ear with her nose and pressed her lips to the pulse at his throat, and Fenris inhaled slowly as a wave of heat rose through his body. Hawke trailed her tongue along the tattoos that marred his skin until she found his collarbone, and he exhaled as her teeth grazed the tendon in his neck.

He gathered her shirt in his hands and tugged. She obeyed his wordless request, sitting up on her knees to pull the shirt over her head, and Fenris propped himself up on his elbows to watch as she divested herself of her breastband as well.

She sat back and shucked her trousers and her smallclothes, and Fenris swallowed before speaking softly. “You don’t have to take it all off,” he rasped, even as his greedy eyes roamed over her naked body. “What if there is an emergency and someone comes…?”

She straddled his fully-clothed body. “I don’t care,” she whispered. “I want you to look at me. Maybe I’m hoping to boost your morale.”

Her smile was small but cheeky, and Fenris couldn’t help but smile in return. “Consider it boosted,” he said, and he lifted his hips beneath her.

Her smile became a grin. She arched her back slowly, pressing her chest toward him, and when his predictable gaze fell to her breasts, she took his hands and placed them on her body.

She guided his glowing left palm to her breast. “Touch me,” she whispered.

He didn’t reply; he only obeyed. He brushed his fingers over her nipple, savouring the firm feel of it beneath every fingertip, then grasped her bottom and pulled her closer on his lap.

He lowered his mouth to her breast, and she gasped. Fenris lapped carefully at her nipple until she moaned, then lifted his head to look her in the eye.

“Silence, Hawke,” he whispered. “Remember, your sounds are mine.”

She grinned at him. In the warm glow of the alchemical lamp, her eyes were dark and brilliant with lust. “You’d better give me something to be silent about, then,” she retorted.

Fenris smirked, then wrapped one arm around her waist and rolled so she was flat on her back beneath him. She slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, but her laughter soon melted into eager panting breaths as Fenris kneeled between her legs and pushed her knees apart.

He smoothed his palms along the buttery-soft skin of her inner thighs and stared at her for a moment. The sounds of the soldiers were apparent still, clanking and crackling fires and laughter, but they were little more than background noise now, a backdrop for the sight of Hawke spread wide before him. He drank her in greedily, watching the way the flickering lamplight highlighted the curves and peaks of her body, and when she started to twist restlessly beneath him, he lowered his lips between her legs.

He pressed his tongue to her swollen little bud, and she eagerly jerked her hips. Fenris lapped at the sweetness that was pooling between her legs, careful to take every fragrant drop on his tongue, and when she was shining from the moisture of his mouth alone, he pressed another ravenous kiss to her heated centre.

She undulated toward him, and Fenris lifted his gaze to watch the desperate rise and fall of her ribs as he caressed her clit with the flat of his tongue. Soon she was rocking against his mouth, meeting his lips and tongue with the same zeal that he was bestowing upon her, and when her thighs went tense beneath his palms, he knew she was close.

Her ecstasy came upon her, heralded by the shuddering of her body as she silently thrust her hips toward his face, and Fenris gave her the firm treatment of his lips and tongue until she settled onto the bedding.

She pulled her hand away from her mouth and reached for him silently, and Fenris rose to his knees and shucked his clothes as swiftly as he could in the confines of the tent. Then he was stretching over her, hooking her leg over his hip and cupping her flushed cheek in his palm, and when he sheathed himself inside of her, he silenced them both with a desperate kiss.

He could feel the vibration of her moan against his tongue, and he moaned in turn as she took him all the way to the hilt. He sank slowly into her warmth, long slow thrusts that brought their bodies flush together, lifting his pleasure higher with every careful draw and pull.

His fingers slid into the tufty hair at her nape. She curled her hips to meet his every thrust, then suddenly she broke from his kiss and clasped his jaw in her fingers.

Fenris wrenched his eyes open and looked at her. Her face was rife with pleasure, her eyebrows lifted and her lips parted and her eyes glowing with heat, and now that he was looking at her beautiful and rapturous face, he couldn’t look away.

He stared at her in silence, and without breaking her gaze, she eagerly nodded her head.

Fenris withdrew slowly, then thrust into her hard, and her lips parted more desperately still. “More,” she whispered – the faintest whisper, so faint that it was practically inaudible: more a movement of her lips than an actual trace of sound.

He nodded, then slammed his hips into hers, and she threw her head back in ecstasy before meeting his eyes once more. Within seconds, they were fucking hard and fast, and her nails were digging into his shoulder while his fingertips gripped the nape of her neck, and still their eyes were desperately locked on each other’s faces as they fucked and breathed as fiercely and quietly as they could.

Hawke’s heated gaze was steady and intense, and her face was full of all the best things: love and desire and sheer unadulterated pleasure, all those glorious and hedonistic things that Fenris only ever remembered enjoying with her. With every forceful thrust, that pleasure was rising higher, spanning from his pelvis to his calves and his chest and his throat, building and rising and pushing higher still until –

Fenris couldn’t stand it anymore. He broke his own rule and gasped aloud. “I love you,” he groaned.

She grabbed his neck and kissed him hard, and he groaned into her mouth as they fucked more desperately still. Then her lips were on his cheekbone, and her breath was ghosting across his ear. “I love you too,” she gasped. “Fenris, I love you, I love you so much–”

“I… Rynne, I love you,” he insisted. His own voice was a desperate guttural whimper, but he didn’t care; they didn’t know what would happen tomorrow, and his words of protection and togetherness were sincere – venhedis, nothing he’d ever said was more sincere than his promises to keep them together and safe.

But anything could happen tomorrow. His promises might only take him so far when blood magic was at play, and when had fate ever really been kind to him?

“Hey,” Hawke murmured. She stroked his cheek. “Stay with me.”

“I am,” he whispered. “I am here.” He focused on her face, her beautiful pleasured face with her soft raspberry lips and her glittering copper eyes, then lowered his lips to hers and redoubled his amorous efforts.

He thrust into her hard and fast, and she gripped his arms and whimpered into his mouth, then she broke away from his lips and told him she loved him, telling him over and over again until her words were a mess of affection and pleasure and longing as she whispered them against his cheekbone. Minutes later they were shuddering together, and his gasping mouth was pressed to her salt-laced neck as she ground her pelvis firmly against him to wring every last drop of pleasure from his body.

They gradually fell still, and Fenris closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrance of her skin. Her fingers carded carefully through his hair, and her husky voice floated to his ears.

“This better not have been farewell sex on your part,” she said.

He opened his eyes, then carefully lifted himself onto his elbows to look down at her. She was frowning slightly, and Fenris brushed a thumb over her eyebrow as though to wipe the frown away.

“Of course not,” he told her seriously. “Never.”

Her eyebrows relaxed. “All right,” she said. “It’s just… I know you’re worried. I don’t want you to worry.” She smiled faintly. “And now you don’t have to worry, because this was good luck sex.”

I don’t want you to worry, either, he thought. But he smiled in return. “Only good luck?” he teased softly. “A poor showing on my part, then. I would have called it excellent luck sex.”

She grinned, then fondly pinched his chin. “You fucking smooth talker,” she murmured.

He smiled more widely, but their smiles didn’t last; Fenris watched as Hawke’s face grew serious once more, and he could feel his own face creasing into a frown as well.

He carefully shifted off of her body, and they slid under the covers and curled together. Hawke wrapped her arm around him and tucked her knee between his thighs, and Fenris smoothed her sweat-dampened hair back from her forehead before pulling her closer still.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I am scared, Hawke,” he confessed. “I… I’ve tried to be lighthearted about all of this…”

“I noticed,” she said softly. She squeezed him gently. “That’s why I asked if you were humouring me.”

He gave her a half-hearted smile, then sighed heavily. Her fingers curled and flexed idly against his back in a relaxed sort of scratch, and against all odds, Fenris felt his mind drifting at her soothing touch.

Her quiet voice roused him from his floating reverie. “We’ll protect each other,” she said softly. “That’s all there is to it.”

He nodded. Cullen had planned everything for tomorrow as best he could, but the situation was dire and the risks were high. Even the best-laid plans could be set awry by the simplest of bad intentions, and any number of unpredictable factors could arise to throw their plans into disarray.

In the face of possible chaos, there were only two things Fenris and Hawke could do: stay together and protect each other. He pulled her closer into the shelter of his naked body, and as she wrapped her arm more securely around his waist, he made a silent vow: that he and Hawke would stay together and protect each other, no matter what.

#fenris #fenris fic #fenhawke #fenris/hawke #fenris x hawke #fenris/femhawke #fenris x femhawke #fenris/f!hawke #fenris x f!hawke #hawris #f!hawris #fenris the inquisitor #fenquisition #Lovers in a Dangerous Time #fenrynne #pikapeppa writes

54 notes · View notes