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lemonietrinket · 4 years

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Trio ||| Minhyuk x Reader x Jooheon

Summary: Movie nights with your favourite bickering friends is always an event to behold. Everything is peaceful with your trio of giggles, and that’s the way it would stay. You were sure of it. Genre: Fluff Warning(s): Oneshot that accidentally gained a plot that may now need a sequel but I’m busy so idk Word Count: 2831 Theme Song: Humph! - Pentagon AN: December 12 prompt, movie night. Credit as usual goes to @songi-writes I’m going to keep tagging I’m sorry I don’t want to be annoying but I feel like a thief otherwise I’m sorryyyy!! Do I call him Jooheon? Joohoney? I do not know ..... i love u bb joo i promise

~~~

The living room was filled to the brim with near-manic giggles that didn’t falter even as you entered the room. Confusedly tilting your body round the door frame, you caught a glimpse of the thick fluffy blanket on the sofa moving as if it had a life of its own. The amalgamation of pastel blue fluff juddered as another roar of raucous laughter emanated from its depths, its sides flourishing and stretching at random while it snorted unceremoniously.

Quickly grabbing the snacks from the kitchen counter, you hurried into the fray, coming to a halt directly at the side of the beast.

Upon closer inspection, you could see the shapes rippling beneath the blanket reflected one person being held captive by the other, and, going by the sudden convulsions at one end, said captive was being tickled ferociously—leading him to kick wildly in response.

You didn’t even need to listen in to work out who was the perpetrator here, though deciphering who started it would perhaps be a trickier endeavour.

Dropping the snacks on the coffee table, you crouched down strategically, aiming to free the victim from his torture. Tactfully, you leant in at an angle that allowed precision and accuracy, and low enough so to avoid any collateral.

And then, you struck.

Minhyuk took the jab below the ribs with glamorous dignity. And glamorous dignity meant shrieking like a fox.

The manoeuvre gave Jooheon a chance to escape, which he took gladly, knocking the blanket off his head and breathing a huge sigh of relief.

“It’s not over yet soldier!” you exclaimed, swooping in to protect him from recapture, catching Minhyuk’s arms as they swung round to grapple Jooheon back to his body. “Honey, get him!”

“Oh!” Jooheon was startled, but immediately dug his fingers into his band mate’s sides. Cackling, Minhyuk tried to wriggle free, but found himself laughing too hard.

“G-guys! Sto-! P... h—yah!”

“We will never relent!” you declared, letting go of his wrists, deciding he was rendered practically immobile by that point, and joined in on the assault.

Bad move.

Instantly Minhyuk caught you instead, dragging you onto his chest and using his legs—albeit trapped in the end of the blankets—to push Jooheon down onto the two of you.

Yelping at the sneak attack, you were immediately trapped in Minhyuk’s grip, leaving him free to do whatever he wished, which in this case was unleashing an merciless attack upon your stomach. You were left barely able to breathe between laughter, your body shifting wildly with every jolt of giddiness, while Jooheon was left to collapse on your back, cheek squished against your shoulder as he scolded the perpetrator weakly.

Minhyuk laughed victoriously, his master plan of a cuddle pile coming together neatly, even though he couldn’t really breathe either.

Suddenly though, there was a high-toned thud that made you all freeze.

“What was that?” Jooheon asked groggily.

You grimaced. “The remote, I think.”

The two turned simultaneously to glare disapprovingly at Minhyuk as you groaned, it no doubt being a consequence of his kicking legs.

“Hey!” he whined, “I didn’t know it was there! Also you were tickling—! You can’t blame me entirely!

Clambering off the sofa, you left him to pick up the blanket as you joined Jooheon in searching for the lost remote.

He had his head hanging down the gap between the sofa, end-table and armchair, attempting to spot the black remote in the shadow there. You rolled your eyes at the slight lack of common sense, leaning over to turn on the lamp on the table.

The click and sudden ability to see made him jump slightly, but he swung himself a little further down nonetheless. “I can’t see it here!” he called.

You huffed, scowling exaggeratedly at Minhyuk who reciprocated with an even more hyperbolic pout, before laying your hand on Jooheon’s back, indicating for him to stand up.

You felt his body stiffen slightly at your touch, head reappearing to make eye contact with you, bemused.

“I hope it’s not under the chairs,” you remarked, crouching down onto the carpet, “otherwise Minnie’s in big trouble!”

You heard Jooheon laugh at him and say a teasing comment that you couldn’t quite make out as you pressed your head onto the floor, your phone flashlight on. Your shoulders slumped as you spotted the remote nearly in the very centre of the space below the armchair.

“Found it,” you sighed, obviously disgruntled, “it’s under there but it’s too far for me to reach and,” you got to your feet, brushing your hands on your shirt, “like hell I’m sticking my hand under there.”

“Why not?” Minhyuk asked, tugging Jooheon’s ear until you pursed your lips at him, to which he smiled, wide and bright, and let him go. “You... scared?”

You protested his accusation. “Uh?! Hyuk? Are you not scared of the under-space? That’s the place where demons live, I’ll have you know.”

He scoffed, passing Jooheon and patting you on the head. “Well, I’m not scared, I’ll get the remote.”

“Yeah, and because it’s your fault it went missing in the first place, remember! You are totally doing the washing up today.” You chuckled at the huff you heard from the floor.

The other man just laughed. “There’s no such thing as demons, Y/N.”

You looked him dead in the eye, slightly taken aback by how beautiful his eyes were. Fashioned of a gemstone in normal situations, in the lamplight they had become the glittered pools of two galaxies. “Can you be sure?.”

As you perched on the edge of the sofa, you could barely stop the giggle from arising from your throat as you heard Jooheon check with Minhyuk that demons didn’t exist, the laughter gradually dying in his voice.

And especially when the man on the floor just brightly replied, “If thinking that helps you sleep at night, sure!”

Jooheon looked back to you, a highly unnerved expression upon his features. He looked so adorable when he was ever so slightly petrified.

“Oh, Honey, it’s ok they don’t exist, I promise,” you cooed, motioning for him to come and join you on the sofa. He obliged, soft lips set in a trembling pout, taking the space to your left and curling into your chest as soon as you opened your arms for a cuddle. You couldn’t resist squishing his cheek gently, reassuringly holding him close.

“And even if there was, Honey, we’d never let them hurt you,” Minhyuk added, before jumping up victoriously, remote in hand, “I got it!”

You nodded, playfully smushing both of Jooheon’s cheeks so his lips were pursed. “Besides, most demons are nice anyways. They just get a bad rep.”

Minhyuk sent you a quizzical look, but you pointed to the TV, silently asking him to load up the film. “We’ve procrastinated long enough, I think.”

He put his hands on his hips. “The things you make me do, Y/N.”

You pulled an indignant face at him, which he mimicked right back, before turning to the set, opening the box and placing the disk in the tray.

Once it was done, he returned to the sofa, retrieving the blanket and arranged it so it covered you and Jooheon nicely, and then finally climbing under himself.

“Thank you~!” you sang, watching him shuffle and get comfortable, before inclining towards, but not quite against, your free shoulder. You wondered how long it would take for him to give in and sprawl across you, basically making you into a pillow for two tired dorks.

Not that you minded. They were so warm, and you like being crushed with affection, genuinely. The true remedy for touch-starvation. Besides, it was your choice of film, and though you were interested in it, it wasn’t one that the other two were that fussed about, so you’d foreseen this.

Taking the remote from Minhyuk as he shifted, you held it to Jooheon, for him to press the buttons. After all, though arguments over who got to use the remote was something you had not foreseen the first time, you weren’t about to let that happen again any time soon.

The film menu screen faded into black, and you felt Minhyuk’s arm snake around your waist.

50 minutes, you thought, 50 minutes will be how long it takes before they’re out like lights.

The film was as enriching as you expected, and you couldn’t help but mentally gush about just how on point the metaphors were, or how the colour schemes helped foreshadow the unfurling events—you realised as you went. And usually it took a lot to distract you from all movies. However, the two things that could distract you the most were situated on either side of you, and they were doing a brilliant job of it by somehow putting in as little effort as possible.

It hadn’t taken long at all for Minhyuk to give into resting his head on your shoulder. He’d started off by nuzzling his nose into your neck, deliberately trying to distract you so you would hold his hand. When you did as he wished, he decided he was happy with his head upon your shoulder, and so there he remained. Eventually, he untwined his fingers from yours in favour of holding you in his arms fully, and so you resorted to threading your fingers through his hair, very carefully easing out any knots you stumbled across.

That had been what sent him to sleep, you reasoned, with his arms clutching you like a teddy bear. Very occasionally he hummed in his sleep, tiny whines or murmurings of something barely understandable. One time you thought he’d uttered the word ‘love’ but it was hard to tell, with his mumbling coinciding with a swell in the music of the film.

It remained though that you’d no doubt overestimated his willpower by a good 40 minutes. He hadn’t opened a single packet of snacks, nor asked what was going on. It amused you how quick they were to lull into the arms of sleep when warm and coddled. It made you feel good, that they felt secure in your arms enough to drift off whenever.

Meanwhile, it was Jooheon that had proved to be much stronger, willing his heavy eyelids not to droop too low and lull him into a sleep. He was sullenly watching the film, somewhat transfixed by its motions and colours, rather than the messages and dialogue, but he’d stayed awake for a while, even if he hadn’t gotten anywhere near the 50 minute mark.

“Hey Honey, you doing ok?” you whispered, smoothing his shirt sleeve beneath he blanket.

He nodded once, lacking the energy or the desire to do anymore than that. He was perfectly comfortable where he was, not wanting to move a millimetre if it meant causing even the slightest bit of discomfort.

“You want any snacks?” you enquired, receiving the tiniest shake of his head. It wasn’t like you could reach them anyway.

You rubbed his back, feeling him press closer into you, if that were even possible. “It’s ok, Honey, you can go to sleep. Heaven knows you need it after the week you’ve had.”

It was if you’d whispered the final command of a hypnotist, as right after the words left your lips, he let his eyes close, nestling his hands to grip your shirt rather than the blanket loosely, and gave into sleep.

You felt your heart lurch as you felt Jooheon’s breath steady. Glancing across carefully at Minhyuk and admiring how the light of the TV arched across the bridge of his nose, you found no respite as your breath hitched in your throat.

You’d never questioned what you had. You were eternally grateful to have it. You had two people who cared for you so deeply that they immediately travelled to your door from the other side of the city, when all you did was mention that you were a little gloomy that evening. You of course would have done the exact same. But what was it all?

You didn’t let the voices owned by all those unsettled and interrogatory faces into your thoughts that often, because what use was it? But even your obstinate tendencies couldn’t deny that they all did see something, that they all then latched onto like limpets. Constantly asking if one of them was your boyfriend. Acting overtly surprised when you shook your head vividly and asserted ‘no’. Questioning if you were leading both of them on. And then never letting the idea drop no matter how many times you saw them, no matter how many times you requested them to.

It was none of their damn business, you were close as friends, a peaceful trio uncomplicated by labels. Friends could be close and touchy and clingy if they wanted to, and you told them that, square to their faces. Only to find them laugh at you strangely.

That laugh, you’d witnessed in other scenarios, was the one that people always used when they knew something the others didn’t. The laugh people heard when they asked about their favourite character to an older fan, which never indicated their safety. The laugh people uttered under their breath when the movie was paused and they knew something bad was going to happen to one of the characters.

Dramatic irony.

But you weren’t in love with them, either of them, neither Minhyuk nor Jooheon. No. Well, at least not in that way. At least, you thought.

A particularly loud mumble brought you out of your thoughts, as Minhyuk shifted his weight on your shoulder.

“Min?” No response.

You exhaled in a quiet chuckle. From his new position, you could see even less of his face, his lips instead pressed against your neck, his breath tickling your skin. His grip was tight at your side, as if he was afraid you’d leave.

You moved your hand from his hair, and placed it at his waist, caressing the sliver of bare skin you found uncovered there absentmindedly.

Your thoughts swirled, urging you to pull him closer—both of them closer. Even though they were both practically on top of you, you wanted them closer.

What did that even mean...?

You shook your head, taking a glimpse down at Jooheon, fast asleep. A mistake, as you suddenly felt that rise in your soul again. It wasn’t a new feeling, but you’d never felt it this strong before. You’d always written it off as a protective, almost nurturing feeling.

You forced your eyes to focus upon the film again, but you’d lost track of what was going on. The colours blurred and merely danced in front of you.

You wanted to...

No. That was completely, utterly, wholeheartedly a bad idea.

No matter how inviting the idea was, no matter how close they were.

You were just sappy because it was dark out and you were tired and because they’d been so sweet and funny and endearing.

But it was too late.

With your conscious miles behind, your body seemed to behave by itself. It was as if you watched yourself in third person. You supported Minhyuk’s head with a hand, as you leant down and placed a kiss onto Jooheon’s hair. Returning, you did the same for Minhyuk, brushing some loose strands back into place.

You sat up straight again, eyes naturally returning to the screen, and for a solid five seconds there was utter tranquil. No disturbance of a thought, no incessance of a noise.

And then your consciousness slammed back into your head as you realised what you’d done. What had you just done?

Panicking, with your chest heaving, you sought an escape route.

As smoothly as you could, you slipped out between the two of them. Making sure their heads were supported and their bodies covered with the blanket, you praised all the gods evidently watching over you at that moment that they didn’t wake up. Then, you snuck out of the room, into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Sitting on the cool floor, focusing on your breath that was ringing in your ears, you interrogated yourself.

What did you do? Why did you do it? What were you going to do about it?

What you did not know was that they didn’t have a clue either.

When they decided to pretend to be asleep, they had expected to pull a ghost prank on you seamlessly. It would end in you screaming, chasing them around the place, and finally more cuddles when the film was over. They’d checked the bed earlier that day, it was certainly big enough for all three, despite what you’d said!

But now they were stuck, eyes flickering over each other’s faces, on opposite sides of the sofa.

“She kissed you?” Jooheon whispered first.

“Yes!” Minhyuk replied. “You too?”

“On the head, yes!”

“Same!”

Maybe things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated for the three of you.

~~~

AN: I’m sorry this fic was late, a lot of things got in my way yesterday. I’m really sorry it turned into a character piece too lol. Y/N has many feelings apparently sksksk

This was also not how I imagined this would turn out. I’m always adding plots to my oneshots pls save meeeee

I will fix up the masterlist soon, I promise.

College is a pain in the ass and coursework is murdering my soul so yeet me.

I’ll write the next part at.... some point....

Feedback is always welcome too like, I’m going to try and edit all of these after christmas so if you think something is too long then lmk

I’ll stop ANing now. Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

Edited: 18th May 2020

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loyalflutist · 5 years

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Stony Expression (F!Byleth x Edelgard)

Rating: General Audience Archive Warning: Major Character Death Category: F/F Summary: It's a compliment to Byleth. Any sort of emotion beyond the generic smile and cheeky attitude never saw the light of day, even in extreme situations. But in her life, there were only three people who saw through her facade.

A/N: RIP, I had an idea after reading the screenshots of dialogues from Byleth in Fire Emblem Heroes. Decided to write a somewhat... heartwarming... not really... kind of work? (We need more Mama Edelgard, if you know what I’m saying.) Hope you enjoy the work!

----

“Gosh, don’t you think the professor is scary, Dorothea?”

“How so?”

“She’s never shown any sort of emotion to us!”

“Um… why are you so bothered about it? Isn’t that the point of keeping cool-headed?”

“It is, to an extent.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard that when her dad died last week, she didn’t even shed a tear!”

“Whoa. Talk about creepy.”

“You sure you’re telling the truth, Ferdinand? You always seem to blow these situations out of proportion.”

“Um, duh, Casper. I’m sure someone else can attest to it.”

“I doubt so—”

“I did.”

“Lindhardt? YOU?”

“I saw it with my very own eyes. Mmgh… I’m gonna skip class and take a nap, ‘kay?”

“HEY! Don’t you leave us hanging like that!”

“Geez, why are you so loud, Petra?”

“U-Um… don’t… you think we should be… you know… comforting her?”

“I would, Bernadetta, but Teach is clearly keeping her guard up. I mean, just… look at her right now.”

Caspar, Dorothea, Ferdinand, Lindhardt, Petra, and Bernadetta shot a glance at their professor. In the classroom where lecture won’t start for another fifteen minutes, the early birds were given the treat to gossip, jest, and horseplay. The perfect occasion for learning about the hottest rumors too. Today, Ferdinand brought up a rather morbid rumor—No, it wasn’t even a rumor. It was facts about their professor, Byleth.

They kept an eye on Byleth. The young woman in her early 20s fingered through the worksheets behind her desk. Based on their observations, their instructor remained the same. Diligent in her duties, attentive to her colleagues, and always there for her students. That’s the Byleth they knew all too well. However, Ferdinand wasn’t wrong from his remarks. The Byleth they envisioned was a bit more… reactive. Byleth’s stony expression and lack of anything beyond her rare, cheeky attitude painted her in a different light. Strange is a euphemism about the older female. Cold-hearted as a dysphemism about the ex-mercenary.

‘ I’m used to it. ‘

Byleth was not oblivious to their dagger-like stares. It pierced her exposed skin and armor without a moment of hesitation. Despite the mental remark, her shoulder’s muscles became rigid, hidden by the worksheets tossed onto the wooden podium.

‘ They’re just like everyone else. ‘

The male student was not wrong with his impression of her. Her father, whom she looked up to so dearly, died in the heat of battle. It was supposed to be a practical lesson in warfare for her students. The once-a-week “field trip” the staffs put together as part of the Officer’s Academy curriculum. Tragedy hardly described the scene that had befallen them.

Byleth and her father were chaperones and commanders of last week’s trip. A simple mission of pushing back the rebels that dare disrupt the peace near the monastery. It was the usual skirmish to counter any troublemakers and doers. Little did they know of the rebel’s leader. It was an old-time friend of theirs back when they were mercenaries. An older male roughly the same age as her father now stood on the opposite end. They tried to reason with him. The students were uncertain of their role in the fight. He rejected their proposal with a spear thrust into her father’s chest.

The spear

that

pierced

his heart.

It was a complete blur afterward. Byleth knew she didn’t lose her composure. That would be disastrous for the remaining troops and students left on the field. In lieu of fury, she coolly commanded the units to defeat the rebellion. Victory was easily achievable… but at what cost?

She shook her head and refocused her attention to the present time. From the far back, the green-haired spotted Edelgard and Hubert make their entrance into the classroom. The chatters from the other Black Eagles simmered down at the appearance of the two intimidating figures. Both the noble Edelgard and commoner Byleth made eye contact. Byleth smiled. Edelgard’s cheeks reddened before hurrying to her assigned seat at the front. Hubert narrowed his eyes at the professor and seated himself in the back. As if the death of her father hadn’t occurred, her classroom ran exactly as how it should’ve operated. Even the addition of a romantic relationship that recently sparked between Edelgard and Byleth didn’t disrupt the natural order for education.

It was

all so normal.

Like he

never

died.

Was this… really what she wanted though? Did Byleth want some sort of validation?

“Good morning, everyone.”

Byleth’s mature voice rang throughout the premise. If there were any remaining whispers and giggles, they were hushed by the more responsible scholars. She approached the podium. Then, with both hands lightly gripping the surface’s edge, she scanned her surroundings.

Nothing out of place. (Right?) Lindhardt was also present, which was a bit of a surprise. Byleth had lowered her expectations ever since he skipped class for a nap in the garden. The fact that he was here was a huge plus. That amusing idea screeched to a complete halt when he began to nod off. The corner of her lip twitched. At least he did try to come to class…

As for the others… Ferdinand was eyeing the white-haired rival with a small smirk. He twirled a feather between his index and middle finger, eyes twinkled in excitement. A typical reaction from their competitive relationship. Petra toyed with her hair and rolled her eyes at the sight of Ferdinand’s obvious reaction about their future lord. Casper stifled a yawn, elbows on the table and chin resting on the palms of his hands. Bernadetta had beads of sweat fly out of her head as her thumbs toyed with one another. Dorothea sat at the front like an obedient puppy. Maybe a bit too obedient since she was clearly shooting heart eyes at the professor in a playful manner… And then there was Hubert. Oh, Hubert. He was always a loyal servant to Edelgard. The man is kind, but ever since Byleth started a private and secretive relationship with the noble, he has been awfully overprotective with the young lady.

Byleth suppressed a sigh. She closed her eyes and, after counting to five, reopened them and flashed her signature smile.

“Let’s review some materials from last week. It doesn’t hurt to get a little refresher after the long three-day weekend.”

The three-day weekend that was partially due to her absence to quietly mourn for her father. Byleth had disappeared from existence to visit his grave. Accompanied by the ever-so-noisy Sothis that she can only see, speak, hear, and touch, the two paid their respect. Numbness. Byleth felt numb during those three days. No—she still felt numb right now.

“I’m surprised you can still hold yourself together, mortal,” Sothis muttered. She crossed her arms and looked up to the female. “But don’t hold it all in. The bottle is going to explode one day.”

Sothis was one of the few individuals who saw through Byleth’s brick-like features. The second person is her father.

She lowered her gaze. Soon, the woman got down to her knees and reached out to touch her father’s tombstone. His name will forever be immortalized on the thick slab of rock. Unfortunately, it won’t be immortalized for a reason worth celebrating.

“…leth.”

The ex-mercenary now found herself staring at an empty desk. This shared office with other staffs not prestigious enough to earn their own office (like Byleth), who were crammed into this one area. Her father was one of them, yet he never complained. In reality, he had actually enjoyed it. The daughter would always hear his jolly laughter and gruff voice echo from within. Students unfamiliar with his booming personality were in for a shock every single time they walk past the room. To Byleth, she welcomed it. After all, he is her father and she is his daughter.

Most of his supplies were placed in a rusted chest box. If there were any supplies to begin with, that is. Her father was not one to possess many materialistic items, save it for his clothes, weapons, armors, and whiskey. There wasn’t even a family portrait in his possession! He was always a firm believer that memories were picturistic enough. Seeking nostalgia? Dig even deeper into the memory zone. Forgot about it? It was probably not important enough to remember!

“By…”

Byleth sat on her mattress, her knees held close to her chest. She hugged them and stared at the somewhat decorated wall. Unlike her father, she allowed a bit of flair to settle in her personal space. Student notes were pinned to the wall. Some portraits and doodles hung alongside with them. One of them was a portrait of everyone in the Officer’s Academy. All three houses were together, and all of the staffs stood for the shot. It took the artist more than five hours to get them squeezed into this magnificent art. The process was excruciating but worth it.

It was the only physical piece of evidence she has in memory of her father. Her heart clenched at the thought of his death. Flashbacks replayed over and over in her head at the time of his doom. She nearly scoffed at mental torment. How much longer was this going to go on?

was going to

keep

going.

“Byleth.”

The older female blinked. Warmth enveloped her entire being in one swoop. Frantic, she rapidly examined her surroundings—until Byleth considered the context of her current situation. Edelgard held her seated mentor in an embrace. The two were safely hiding in the professor’s now-closed office. It was still early evening where students ran amok in the monastery. Musical melodies from talented choir members faintly trickled through the glass windows. A light breeze ruffled nearby leaves of a tree. Birds chirped alongside with the singers as an accompanist. It was a pleasant day.

Well, it was supposed to be for the two. Edelgard fingers began to run through her lover’s hair, nails satisfyingly brushing the scalp. She planted a gentle kiss to Byleth’s head.

“It’s okay to show what you’re feeling, Byleth.”

No—That wasn’t right. It wasn’t Byleth’s nature to show her feelings to the public. The stony expression, the bland reaction to extreme situations… those were compliments. She’s been told that she lacks emotion since she was a little girl! Even the Black Eagles think she is cold-hearted and cruel in the face of battle! Many of the students and paid troops think of her as an anomaly. Byleth thinks it’s natural.

But when it came to grief this strong, Byleth felt her heartstrings tug. For once, she wanted to let someone know about how she felt. It’s not an easy feat, though. The other half of her rational personality scream that she keeps it to herself. There was no use in burdening others of her sorrows and mourns. The death of her mother was a shining example of this. Besides, even if she did try to open up, she couldn’t. This nature of hers was just too ingrained into her system.

Edelgard continued to smooth through Byleth’s hair. In response, Byleth buried her face into the noble’s abdomen. The aromatic scent blossomed in the teacher’s sensory nerves. She gradually wrapped her arms around the student. Byleth deeply inhaled. A shaky exhale. At that instant, the floodgates from her lacrimal glands came loose as she felt her respiration shudder. The mentor slowly shook her head against Edelgard.

“Why did he have to die?”

She bit her lower lip hard. Eyelids stiff, throat scratchy, a choking cry erupted from her lips.

“I should’ve died in his place!”

Edelgard simply ran her fingers through the green locks, her eyes focused on her girlfriend. Soft “shh”s emitted from her lips as she planted another tender kiss on the head. Small whispers of “you’re going to be okay” and “I’m here for you, Byleth” sprinkled during the breakdown. It caused great agony to the empire’s upcoming lord to feel powerless for her teacher. However, unlike Byleth, who beat herself up, Edelgard’s emotional and mental health was far more resilient. Could it be because she was able to properly grieve when the time came? To release her anger unto others in an appropriate manner? Perhaps. For Byleth, she had always held everything inside.

“Oh, I miss him so much!”

She curled her fingers inward and dug her nails into Edelgard’s clothes. A slight wince from the student went unnoticed as she continued to wail uncontrollably. It was so unlike Byleth. If anyone else were to witness this, they would have assumed a trickster replaced Byleth with another person!

This is no good. Byleth is breaking free from her nature. She shouldn’t be venting, let alone blast her emotions to another person… even if that person is her significant other. Yet it was too late for Byleth. She became oversensitive from being honest with her feelings. The fear. The sadness. The grief. Out of all the people that saw through her façade, for Edelgard, she was the third person in her life to have seen through her stony expression.

#loyalflutist #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #f!byleth x edelgard #fan fiction #fanfic #os #one shot #AnGSTTTTTTTTT #idk what else to tag it as #prepare to be depressed????#my angsty writing is taking over and i should've gone for fluff lmao

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tcmpcral · 5 years

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full name. basil

pronunciation. technically BAY-zil but my dumb disney-loving brain defaults to BA-zil lmao nicknames. dumbass, dumb as ass (these are, of course, all lovingly given to him by his brothers) titles. basil the kicker, ‘our kicking basil’ courtesy of roh height. 5′11-6″

age. 23ish

zodiac. leo languages. whatever language they speak on his planet plus a few others

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour. red, white eye colour. black with yellow sclera skin tone. body type. very athletic and toned, but a little bit wiry tbh accent. like majora below, he’d technically have one to an earthling’s ear, but they wouldn’t be able to place it dominant hand. left posture. confident. has a definite swagger to his gait, and he sometimes tends to lean on one hip when he stands. other times, he simply has a very open, fearless stance scars. what scars he has are covered by fur tattoos. none most noticeable features. the fact he aint got no clothes on >:u possibly his doe eyes, which gives him a markedly more ‘innocent’-looking expression compared with his brothers

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. currently unnamed planet in U9 hometown. an overpopulated city where it was easy for him and his brothers to ‘disappear’ quite often from under ‘human services’ noses birth weight / height. he has no idea manner of birth. just. the usual, i guess :v first words. it was probably something like ‘bermo’ which was his babyish way of saying ‘bergamo’ lmao siblings. lavender, older brother, bergamo, oldest brother parents. his father died at some point before he was born, so he has no memories of him. his mother either died or was separated from the three around the time basil was one to two years old (which means i need to edit A Thing i wrote recently rip), so his memories of her are fuzzy and nondescript parental involvement. he was loved by his mother and treated overtly affectionately by her from the time he was born-- however, his time with her was short. from her disappearance on, he was raised by his older brothers, who did their best of course, but likely fell short in various ways

ADULT LIFE

occupation. ??? whatever it is, it’s not fully legal current residence. a small apartment with his brothers. thanks to a certain god’s influence, it’s a little more luxurious on the inside than one might expect based on its outward appearance close friends. uhhh. his brothers. minca, at one point. and probably again eventually. otherwise, he has various. uh. basically casual drinking buddies, so i’m not sure he’d consider them close relationship status. single financial status. it’s okay. paycheck to paycheck, but. again, thanks to a certain god, he and his brothers are able to live rather comfortably driver’s license. unfortunately, yes criminal record. Yes vices. impulsive, short-tempered, has a tendency to be irreverent without entirely meaning to (not that he’s not Trying to be, just that he’s not thinking about it), lacks common sense a lot

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. he personally identifies as heterosexual but tbh it’s bc he’s only had one girlfriend and hasn’t really thought about his sexuality in great depth. i could honestly see him being bisexual romantic orientation. ??? preferred emotional role. submissive | dominant | switch | unsure preferred sexual role. submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed libido. h-hahaa er. High turn ons. i don’t. know yet tbh turn offs. anything too Out There love language. how do i. explain it. it’s not affectionate exactly, but it would be very obvious to his partner that he likes them, bc there’d be signs like his face lighting up whenever he spotted them in a room, or the fact that he invites them to go with him everywhere, that he’d rather spend time with them than with his drinking buddies, etc. he doesn’t actually do a lot of PDA, i think, bc i tend to see him as being a little more immature than that tbh, but there’d definitely be signs of affection and. adoration there relationship tendencies. basil, at this point in his life, just wants someone he can have fun with. he doesn’t want commitment, he doesn’t want to think about the future (unless it involves daydreaming about visiting cool places)-- all he cares about is the now, and how he can have fun in the now. as such, he’s drawn toward those with like values and desires, and would be turned off by someone who seemed intent on ‘changing him into a better man’ or something similar

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. here we go again, renegades hobbies to pass the time. sparring/fighting, drinking, parties, tagging along with his brothers, causing mischief mental illnesses. avoidant behaviors but lbr mostly none physical illnesses. none left or right brained. right-brained fears. failure, disappointing his brothers, losing his brothers, embarrassing himself in a way he can’t Come Back From self-confidence level. ehh, tbh, it’s mostly high. he probably gets down on himself at times when he thinks he’s done something exceedingly stupid, but for the most part, he thinks pretty highly of himself vulnerabilities. don’t. don’t pull his tail, that hurts. his loyalty to his brothers, the secret feelings he keeps to himself about his childhood if anyone ever figured them out tbh, his fears that he really is kind of dumb

full name. majora pronunciation. MAH-zheruh nicknames. nurse baobei (an old one from shosa that majora absolutely hates to be called in public these days. not that he. loved it to begin with) titles. has an officer’s rank of some kind? does that count height. 5′8ish

age. Advanced (TM) no sorry i just haven’t decided how he ages compared to humans yet :v

zodiac. capricorn n/a languages. whatever language his planet/region uses, as well as a few neighboring ones

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour. olive green, white eye colour. ???? skin tone. body type. slender, slim, but toned. certain joints like his wrists and ankles are very thin and frail-looking, however accent. he’d have one to an earthling’s ear, but it’d be hard to place dominant hand. right posture. generally straight, tho sometimes a little slouchy just bc he’s tired. while he was a military nurse, he wasn’t required to complete any kind of military training, so he doesn’t have the perhaps expected ‘soldier posture’ scars. what scars he does have are easily hidden by fur. has a scar on his upper abdomen leftover from a splenectomy tattoos. none most noticeable features. his ears are huuuuge

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. some planet in U4 lmao hometown. a currently unnamed city on the coast. presently lives in a mountainous region in the northern part of the country/planet he lives on birth weight / height. ~6 pounds, ~19 inches manner of birth. something akin to twilight sleep first words. it was ‘pig’ bc he witnessed one of his older sisters calling another child the term as an insult siblings. four other siblings (two older sisters, one younger sister, one younger brother is the baby. he is the third oldest of five, right smack dab in the middle). his eldest sister is deceased. he is mostly estranged from the others and only sees them occasionally throughout the year parents. Mother: jima Father: rougu, i haven’t quite decided what it was that they did just yet but whatever it was left them rather well-off financially, enough so that they were able to allow their children to pursue whatever interests and hobbies they desired (assuming they were proper, of course). their beliefs were steeped in traditions and conventional wisdom, and these are what majora grew up with and probably still to some degree practices to this day parental involvement. somewhat negligent once he hit a certain age and was capable of helping with younger siblings and household chores, etc. his parents never were particularly affectionate with him, tho they encouraged certain interests of his (...martial arts, mostly) while discouraging others they felt tarnished his (read: their) reputation. this was especially true as he grew into his preteen and teen years and began showing behaviors they didn’t like

ADULT LIFE

occupation. retired; former nurse current residence. lives in a communal apartment setup. he lives at the end of the hall, is able to claim he has the largest room of the floor, and also has a nice little balcony attached to his room as well that he shares with the newly-married couple who live in the room next to him (who i’ve named chuan and cori). he’s quite fond of his living arrangement, despite what he may occasionally say otherwise close friends. ..........shosa. that’s it. that’s literally it relationship status. single financial status. he survives on retiree and disability benefits........ but altogether, it’s not bad driver’s license. doesn’t need one. both. bc the city he lives in is compact enough to be able to walk everywhere and bc. Blind lmao criminal record. lots of curfew and truancy violations as a teen fjfiea;g vices. proud, aloof, withdrawn, set in his ways, stubborn, self-sabotaging

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. generally identifies as homosexual romantic orientation. homoromantic probably preferred emotional role. submissive | dominant | switch | unsure preferred sexual role. submissive | dominant | switch | sex repulsed libido. middles toward low, even when coupled, but he’s not repulsed by any means turn ons. ....like basil i’m. not entirely sure yet turn offs. treating him like a doll?? does that make sense, listen he might like to dress up but don’t treat him like a mannequin. and don’t take advantage of the fact that he can’t see what he’s putting on, that should be obvious. Anything without his permission, ignoring his discomfort if it comes up, not letting him know what you’re doing before you do it gdi love language. kinda stiff and awkward in the beginning, but he softens up soon enough. he never does get to be the type who is outwardly affectionate and forthcoming about his feelings, and particularly in public, will seem very distant and cool to his partner, but he is definitely the sort to enjoy being around a partner and seek their company quite often, whether it’s to accompany them about the town or simply to relax at home

relationship tendencies. truthfully, romance just isn’t on his mind much these days, but he’s always gravitated toward those that he could spend time with and not necessarily worry all the time. he’s not like basil and wants only to live in the present, but he does need something or someone to ground him in the present, or he thinks himself into a nervous frenzy about the future, particularly nowadays at his age and at his level of dependence on others. he worries occasionally that he’s too much of a burden, and that his efforts to decrease his status as a burden only exacerbate it

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. cleopatra hobbies to pass the time. fishing, listening to music/the radio, playing music occasionally (usually when he’s been left in charge of kids and they’re being little hellions rip), going to see plays and operas (even if he can’t appreciate the sets or costumes anymore, he can still enjoy the stories and acting, he supposes) mental illnesses. none tbh physical illnesses. some kind of anemia (think pernicious anemia), which results in fatigue and body aches, compromised immune system left or right brained. left-brained mostly fears. death, losing another sense, various small fears related to his blindness and his resulting vulnerability, being helpless/a burden, convalescent homes self-confidence level. relatively high to moderate while he keeps his independence. when he makes mistakes or otherwise flubs up bc of his blindness, it tends to crash a little vulnerabilities. his fear of both dying and debility/helplessness, frequent refusal to accept help, obviously he. uh. can’t see, tho his other senses help him out to some degree there,

#bas;; dash games #maj;; dash games #THIS TOOK ME SO LONG GOD PLS JUST TAKE IT FROM ME

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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The Scariest Films Ever Made and How They Frighten Us

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It was while I was researching The Book of Horror, an illustrated guide to the scariest movies ever made, that I first started seeing things.

Not the full Haley Joel Osment, you understand, but what we’ll call a seventh sense. I’d catch glimpses of something out of the corner of my eye, and my mind would fill in the blanks with spooky imagery because I was consuming so much of it.

It didn’t help that my son had just been born. Lack of sleep combined with horror movie overload is a condition I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Night becomes dawn becomes day – the full George A Romero – and reality becomes harder and harder to rely upon.

Driving past the local garage one evening, I saw a Creepshow skeleton caked with remnants of clinging skin staring out at me from the front seat of a car. Watching The Great British Bake Off, that beacon of primetime TV evil, I glimpsed a J-horror wraith standing outside the tent.

The cause of this – temporary – insanity was watching up to five horror movies a day for eight months as research for The Book of Horror, casting my net far and wide to seek out the most frightening films the genre has to offer.

But once I’d seen all the main contenders, plus hundreds of wild cards, the question was how to compare them: just what is it that links the grottiest slasher with the most sophisticated ghost story? With the help of my publisher and some horror-fiend friends, I developed a system I called Scare Tactics to analyse how horror films actually work.

By my reckoning, there are seven main Scare Tactics. And while most horror films use most of the Scare Tactics at some point or another, the frequency and intensity of usage changes depending on the subgenre you’re watching.

So Halloween might score highly on Dread (Scare Tactic #5) because we’re always waiting for Michael Myers to strike, but low on The Grotesque (Scare Tactic #4), because the killings are mostly gore-free – although he does eat a dog. The Descent, meanwhile, scores highly on The Unexpected (Scare Tactic #3), because of its excellent jump scares, but low on The Uncanny (Scare Tactic #6), because its bestial horrors could not be more, well, down to earth.

The seven Scare Tactics are as follows:

#1 DEAD SPACE

There are two kinds of Dead Space. Negative space is when there’s so much room around the subject of a shot it feels like something might jump out at any moment. A good example is the large expanse of curtain behind Janet Leigh in Psycho’s shower scene. Positive space is when there’s too the old crone lying in bed behind Christine (Alison Lohman) in Drag Me to Hell. A film that uses Dead Space really effectively is It Follows, which has viewers anxiously scanning the corners of the frame for the next incoming threat.

Film to see: It Follows

#2 THE SUBLIMINAL

This refers to all the sly cinematic tricks that film-makers employ without us noticing. Think of The Texas Chain Saw Massacre’s slaughterhouse noises, or the unearthly breathing on Suspiria’s soundtrack. In The Exorcist William Friedkin uses buzzing insects to stimulate a fight-or-flight response, and there are several inserts of a black-and-white demon’s face (actually Eileen Dietz, Linda Blair’s stand-in) that occur for an eighth of a second, and couldn’t be easily seen pre-VHS. No wonder viewers thought the film itself was possessed.

Film to see: The Exorcist

#3 THE UNEXPECTED

From jump scares to plot twists, The Unexpected covers all the ways horror films pull the rug from beneath our feet. When used well, as in Insidious when the red-faced demon appears behind Josh (Patrick Wilson), jump scares increase our anxiety levels as we wait for the next nasty surprise. Meanwhile, sudden plot twists like the shock death of Charlie (Milly Shapiro) in Hereditary break a pact with the audience. If the film’s capable of doing that to a little girl, we think, what the hell’s going to happen next?

Film to see: Insidious

#4 THE GROTESQUE

Whether splatter movie or creature feature, The Grotesque is all about grossing viewers out with leaking wounds and stomach-churning SFX. And it’s no wonder: we’re programmed to find broken bodies upsetting, and watching people in pain makes us feel vulnerable too, hence why Martyrs is so hard to watch. Triggered by everything from arachnids and aliens to blood and brains, disgust can be a powerful tool, as Neil Marshall shows in The Descent. Here the slimy, sightless crawlers get battered to death in inventive, unforgettably squishy ways.

Film to see: The Descent

#5 DREAD

This is the awful feeling of anticipation when you know something bad is going to happen. It’s a common feature of the ghost story, where the house is clearly haunted but the spectres take time to reveal themselves. Dread can come from within the story itself, such as the many warnings about Hill House at the start of The Haunting, or technical elements such as extended Steadicam shots, which eke out the tension before a big reveal. In The Shining, the longer Danny (Danny Lloyd) wheels around the corridors in those insinuating, unbroken takes, the more we’re scared of what lurks around the next corner.

Film to see: The Shining

#6) THE UNCANNY

The Uncanny is that strange, slightly dreamlike sense that what you’re seeing is not quite right. It could be something inanimate, like a doll, seeming to move, as in the climax of Dead of Night; something normal subtly altered, like Banshee Chapter’s blank-faced human monsters; or something jarring in a mundane setting, like the old lady dancing behind Bev (Jessica Chastain) in It Chapter Two. Perhaps the best example if the way Sadako (Rie Ino’o) moves towards her victims in Ring. In fact, the actor was filmed walking backwards then the footage reversed, so it’s no wonder it looks so plainly, petrifyingly wrong.

Film to see: Ring

#7 THE UNSTOPPABLE

Unlike most films, which reach some kind of happy-ever-after, horror movies are more like nightmares, refusing to resolve themselves and let us off the hook. A good example is the end of Halloween where Michael Myers is revealed to be, basically, the bogeyman – an unkillable force stalking the streets in sequel after sequel. There’s also a sense of The Unstoppable in John Carpenter’s looping synth score, which keeps leading us back to the start. Ju-On: The Grudge, meanwhile, takes The Unstoppable to new extremes because its central curse keeps expanding outwards with no hint of how it can be stopped, and no closure for the viewer.

Film to see: Ju-On: The Grudge

So, to put all the Scare Tactics this in real-life terms, let’s look back at what happened to me. Seeing things out of the corner of my eye is Dead Space. The fact I’m hallucinating is The Subliminal effect of watching too many horror films. Suddenly spotting a skeleton as you drive past a garage is The Unexpected, and the skin still clinging to its bones is The Grotesque. Dread is driving past the garage the next time and being scared of what you’ll see, while The Uncanny is the incongruousness of a ghost appearing on Bake-Off. Luckily The Unstoppable only really relates to movies, otherwise I’d be in deep trouble.

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The Book of Horror: The Anatomy of Fear in Film by Matt Glasby with illustrations by Barney Bodoano is out now.

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chicagoindiecritics · 4 years

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New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: MOVIE REVIEW: Greyhound

(Image courtesy of Apple and Sony Pictures Entertainment)

GREYHOUND— 4 STARS

There’s something to be said for a film that can constantly exude tautness. Some films will have stress and pressure, but not convey those traits with true tension. An element or two will have general solidity, but not have legitimate, durable steadiness. Like every battened down hatch on a warship cutting through its rough seas, the thrilling course of the new Apple+ Tom Hanks vehicle Greyhound throbs with tightness. Stutter, stumble or hesitate and a punctuating torpedo detonates your lack of focus.

Countless war films over the many decades of cinema cannot help but give way to the theatrical tendencies of the medium. They overindulge on explanations and extraneous dialogue exchanges to hold a viewer’s hand and fill the wait time between engagements. Moreso, frontline soliloquies and parapet speeches haul in bright humanistic spotlights that inflate dramatic license, even for fictional takes as well. Audiences eat those up because they are rightfully rousing for what they are, and there are places for those pedestals. Yet, the writers and filmmakers commonly forget or ignore that tautness comes from the situation as much as the men and women present. Well, Tom Hanks gets it and Greyhound churns without such typical trappings.

Based on C.S. Forester’s 1955 novel The Good Shepherd, this film relies on military meticulousness to fictionally emulate one American destroyer’s experience crossing the frosty North Atlantic as convoy protection for merchant vessels versus the marauding patrols of German U-boats. After a long non-wartime career prior to Pearl Harbor, Commander Ernest Krause (Hanks) leaves his wife Evie (a long-lost Elisabeth Shue) at Christmas in 1941 to take his first full command on the USS Keeling, bearing the titular nickname of the quick and lithe racing dog.

LESSON #1: THE IMPORTANCE OF THE BATTLE OF THE ATLANTIC— For those light on their World War II history, Greyhound is a mere snippet of the lengthy Battle of the Atlantic. Wars can be won by the ability to replenish supplies and resources, making this is the battle to make further battles possible. Without reinforcing provisions and manpower arriving by sea from the United States and other countries, the embattled and blitzed island nation of Great Britain would have fallen. Escorting these cargo loads across the center stretch known as “The Black Pit” beyond the range of departure and arrival air cover was significantly vital. All told by the end of the war, over 3,500 ships would be sunk leading to over 72,000 deaths on both sides.

With the calendar turning to 1942, losses have become costly already. For this trek, the Greyhound is one of four light warships charged to protect 37 unarmed others with deck guns, depth charges, and early and imperfect forms of radar. When a hunting party of six U-boats favoring nighttime attacks arrive led by the howling “Gray Wolf” (voiced by Thomas Kretschmann on taunting and invasive radio transmissions), the Allies can only cover so much movement and find themselves helplessly watching ships being picked off and sunk to the deep under the glows of explosions and oil slick fires breaking up the dark and windy bluster.

LESSON #2: DOUBT IS AGELESS— Seasoned in years, Ernest and his XO Charlie Cole (Stephen Graham of The Irishman) are merely rookies next to younger and more experienced British captains that have been at war for years already. Before going from a frosty frying pan into the frigid fire of the same icy waters that sunk the Titanic, all you have is your preparation. Education must turn into actionable skill, and doubt becomes the bigger opponent than the other armed combatant. The God-fearing Ernest’s answer to that challenge is the golden line from the film’s trailer: “Repetition will bring hell down from on high.”

LESSON #3: KNOW YOUR JOB AND FOLLOW ORDERS— Terminology is exchanged between officers and specialists, demanding immediate compliance. Get it or you’re out. Orders are given and repeated back without any “but, sir” theatrics. Authority does not get challenged for the sake of drummed up emotional conflict. Calls for battle stations happen in a flash without lengthy establishing shots because real soldiers are ready a moment’s notice, period. Seconds separate the reaction time from success to failure. In those moments, soldiers shut up and get to work because their cooperation can mean life and death.

In Greyhound, there’s no time given for fluff or flourishes, not even an “I ain’t got time to bleed” retort to bone up a tough guy reality. Part of the film’s palpable sense of increasing tenacity is this lack of exposition. Outside of an ever-so-brief introduction of Shue, Greyhound propels forward for a swift and stunning 95 minutes. Weathering the unknown frenzy at the pace of the editing by The Shape of Water’s Sidney Wolinsky and My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2’s Mark Czyzewski is precisely the aim.

Strengthening the feel of Lesson #3, the deep research is very apparent. Between procedures, drills, bridge decorum, temperaments, command behavior, and the combined team efforts of the entire nautical operation, you will not find many more faithful reenactments of naval operations than what Tom Hanks has composed (his first screenplay since Larry Crowne) and Oscar-winning short film director Aaron Schneider has captured (his first feature in 11 years). Let the Smithsonian back up that praise.

The attention to detail on the production side is equally impressive. Knives Out production designer David Crank utilized interiors and exteriors of the retired and dry-docked USS Kidd in Baton Rouge, the last surviving WWII American destroyer, and the active HMCS Montreal for excellent scale and physical authenticity. Stellar cinematography by Shelly Johnson (Captain America: The First Avenger) and seamless CGI layers sent those hulls into the created warscape waves to dramatic effect. The tingling clincher is composer Blake Neely’s incredibly nerve-racking score. His piercing instrumental oceanic moans are as if he put those mechanical German howls through echo chambers of saltwater walls.

The common men receiving the actionified commands in Greyhound are an ensemble cast of virtually nameless subordinates played by the likes of Rob Morgan (Just Mercy), Karl Glausman (Love), Manuel Garcia-Ruflo (The Magnificent Seven), Tom’s son Chet, and the TV trio of Devin Druid (13 Reasons Why), Tom Brittney (Grantchester), and Lee Norris (One Tree Hill). For many viewers, their thinness will be a fair flaw, but that too matches working Navy actuality. Outside the increased dialogue announcements provided by Glausman’s radar man and a minute sageness given to Morgan as a somewhat planted, yet accurate, Black participant, all are there to pretty much stare and marvel at Tom Hanks and for good reason.

Shucking any and all Saving Private Ryan expectations in revisiting World War II on the silver (err, streaming) screen, the American acting hero crafts a different measure of resolve as the type of man who hits his knees before he hits his rack. For days, his skipper won’t leave, sit down, or even eat until safety is assured. Krause knows his men are watching and they need to see steadiness. The same can be said for the youngsters on set taking cues from the two-time Academy Award winner. The elder Hanks is a rock even while selling senior fatigue, anguish, and, most of all, mettle.

Sure, Greyhound is a simpler performance than the comparative likes of Captain Phillips and Sully, but Tom doesn’t miss a moment to matter. His Krause character’s favorite Bible verse just so happens to be Hebrews 13:8 which reads “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” Putting him (and the hyperbolic love and ego of his devoted fans) in good company, that’s Tom Hanks too.

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lovehotelreservation · 7 years

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All Talk

Summary: Why must it always be that whenever you decide to tease Ghiaccio, you end up in steaming hot water?

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/La Squadra di Esecuzione

HELLO EVERYONE AND WELCOME TO THE FIRST WEEK(END) OF THE LAST SUMMER OF FAFFERY! To those new to this blog, Faffery is a season-long fic spam full of one-shots based on requests and various themes on a weekly basis. ; u ; And alas, this shall be my last confirmed one.

But not too get too emotional on what I hope will be a festive next few weeks, I am eager to get things started with lewds featuring some hopefully confirmed Part 5 antagonists~! I hope you enjoy!

**Warning: the following one-shot contains themes of dub-con, humiliation, and derogatory language!

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An attack on one is an attack on all.

A common philosophy shared amongst those who dwelled in a city's crime-ridden underbelly, a warning to those who may feel inclined to ever stand up for themselves, whether knowing or ignorant to being face to face with these residents.

But there were some who were fully aware of who they were dealing with and just simply unfazed by it all.

Much like you towards the men of La Squadra di Esecuzione.

Admittedly, you did have some sway since in the grand hierarchy of Passione, you were roughly within the same range of status like Doppio. Though you still haven't been made privy to the Boss's identity, you communicated regularly with his underboss, which may as well have been the same thing.

Whereas this brought you respect--whether genuinely so or out of fear--whenever you had to check up on Passioine's members, this only earned the snide apprehension from La Squadra, who also happened to be the group you had to monitor and deliver key information to the most.

The black sheep of the organization, so to speak. They were a lively, rowdy bunch, one that was a pain to keep up with, but was an amusing joy to spectate as though they were a comedy routine.

Those of Passione--hell, to just be a gangster period--must be tough and resilient to survive in any circumstance. Rather than cower in fear or cry over the abrasive nature they put up against you, instead you just took it as a challenge, enjoying just how far you could prod this particular beehive. Though your Stand, Glass and Patron, was better suited for infiltrating and snooping around places and people of interest, you could still hold out against your own--at least, just enough to be able to make your escape.

But today's visit to La Squadra's hideout in Florence would be the day when the beehive simply had enough.

It was chaotic as always, especially with all members still gathered in the living room as you came by to inform them of their newest task from the Boss. Considering that their mission involved infiltration, Illuso took it upon himself to give Man in the Mirror a training exercise by dragging Pesci into the huge mirror that took up an entire wall--a decoration he insisted to be installed, of course--making sure that Beach Boy and a furious Prosciutto were kept outside. Ghiaccio was giving Melone a noisy earful, ranting about the latter's audacity to use the term "baby batter" in an off-hand remark about finding the perfect breeding specimen. Formaggio was dragging his knees across the tiled floor, his hands clasped together in a plead as he begged for you to stay--"It's a desert here, amore! Please be the mirage that becomes an oasis to quench my thirst!"

Then there was Risotto, who was seated in the middle of it all in his own personal seat, looking over the documents that you presented to him.

So loud, so noisy. You couldn't wait to get away from it all.

"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you boys later~!" You chimed while casually pushing Formaggio's kissy face away from your thighs. As you passed by where Ghiaccio was sitting, still rambling on better terms to refer to semen with, a grin formed on your lips. Unable to resist, you reached over and pat his head as you said "boys" for emphasis

Catching onto this, he snarled and slapped your hand away while he glared up at you. "Tch, whatever. Have fun returning to your honorary duties as the Boss's jerkoff toy."

Unfazed, you laughed amusedly in response. "As cold as always, Ghiaccio~" It was then that a response came to mind, one that made the grin on your face stretch from ear to ear with unrestrained glee.

"The shrinkage must be constant for you, huh?"

You weren't exactly sure how anyone could have picked up on what you said amidst all the madness taking place in the living room, but you immediately realized how the atmosphere tensed and quieted. If it wasn't so jarring, you would've been amused to see Illuso--dragging out Pesci by the head--poke out from the mirror, his expression tight.

Which was shared by the way how Ghiaccio seized hold of your wrist before you could draw your hand back.

"What. Was. That?"

Before you knew it, you were shoved down to your knees with Ghiaccio standing right in front of you. It was clear that--without question--you made one crucial mistake, one that even Glass and Patron's effective means to slip by undetected would be rendered useless now that you had the attention and power of all members of La Squadra trained on you.

After all, it would prove to be difficult as you were suddenly embraced from behind from Formaggio, who was glad that he was already on his knees. He held you tight, having absolutely no intention to let you go, especially when you had the rest of La Squadra, save for a disoriented Pesci crawling on the ground before the mirror, crowd around you, each with their own expression of absolute disdain.

"Amore, amore, I know that Ghiaccio can be a punk-ass brat but he, along with all of us at La Squadra," Formaggio purred against your ear with smirk, which only grew as the others--even Risotto--reached for the belts to unbuckle them. "...have a nice thing we like to refer to as size."

You shuddered, letting out a squeak of surprise when you felt the heated, wet flat of his tongue trail along the shell of your ear.

Though, nothing could honestly prepare you for the sight of five cocks are various lengths, girths, trims, and cuts being presented right before your very eyes.

Humility often goes a long way, but you really messed up when teasing about size.

Not that you could admit to it, as you snorted in response, trying your best to not seem fazed, "What? Am I supposed to be impressed by a bunch flaccid dicks?"

That earned you a sudden hair grab from Prosciutto, the icininess in his stare matching his blue irises. "Should we take that as a complaint?"

"Aww amore, if you want all nice and hard..." Formaggio teased deviously while he reached for your jaw, squeezing your face to get your mouth to part open. "...then get to work!"

There was no way wiggling out of this. Even if you were to slip out of Formaggio's hold, you were still surrounded by the annoying but formidable members of La Squadra. Your Stand would have no chance against fighting against the likes of Metallica, or eluding White Album. And even if you were to try and bite at their cocks, you could easily see yourself subjected to some weird breeding experiment with Melone's Baby Face.

You scolded yourself. It would seem that you were going to be swallowing more than pride at this moment.

Your tongue flittered out past your lips as you prepared yourself to lick along the head of Prosciutto's cock--apprehensive mainly because this was La Squadra rather than a lack of experience, which you had--but that was not to be since Ghiaccio slapped away the hand of his comrade, freeing your hair, only for him to grab a fistful and drag your head over towards his dick.

"I'll show you shrinkage!" He snarled, his shoulders remaining tense with anger even if you reluctantly complied and began to kiss and suck his cock. "Your mouth got you into this mess and it'll be your only way out!"

"Now, now, Ghiaccio, there are plenty of other places that our lovely informant can offer," Melone mused with a hum, all while he began to salivate at the thought. "Like a pretty cunt to fill with cum and bree--"

He stopped to groan, feeling the warmth of your mouth suddenly envelop the head of his dick. Glancing down, he saw that you were glaring at him, even if you were flustered. In return, he only grinned darkly--you would be the ideal host for him.

"Formaggio." At last, Risotto spoke up while his eyes remained trained on your mouth. "The arms."

"Ohh, where are my manners? Sharing is caring after all~" He purred, loosening his hold on you so your arms were freed, only for your wrists to be seized by a grinning Illuso and an ever frigid Prosciutto, your hands guided to their cocks. The latter glanced to the side, his voice cool as he commanded, "Pesci, get over here."

"I-I will!" Pesci squeaked timidly, having remained on the ground while observing what was going on from afar. "Just...give me a few minutes!"

"I'm giving you one...!" Prosciutto huffed, right as your thumb pressed against the tip of his cock, smearing his pre-cum around before beginning to stroke and pump his length.

By now, you were beyond the awkward start to your extended stay with the men of La Squadra. As much as you wished to be well on your way back to Venice to meet with Doppio, you thought to see your current predicament as a means to seize control, in that your pleasure literally rested in your hands.

Though, La Squadra and its insistent defiance wouldn't allow for you to claim victory anytime soon.

You were overwhelmed. Not a moment to think. Not a moment to dawdle. There wasn't a point when your mouth wasn't utterly stuffed with cock, or when your hands were put to use. It didn't help that while you were made to service them, Formaggio gleefully took it upon himself to strip you down, baring even more territory for La Squadra to take, claim, and grope.

They always were victorious when it came to turf wars.

Above you, the men taunted and teased, even as they groaned and craved more of the slick heat of your tongue, or the softness of your palms. If your mouth and hands were preoccupied, either they shoved one another out the way to possess you--save for their leader, obviously--or decided to nudge and rub their cocks against your now fully exposed chest, smirks forming when it was made apparent that your nipples were stiff.

"Where's that pride you carry yourself with?" The gravely tone of Risotto's voice struck deeply within you, causing a moan to be let out--though you wanted to think it was moreso because Formaggio had gone from rubbing you between your thighs after tearing off your panties to prodding your ass with his fingertips. Though, the sound you emitted was muffled, since La Squadra's leader was grasping your head with both of his big, calloused hands, keeping your head still while he fucked your mouth with the thick girth of his cock.

Your eyes narrowed at him, which resulted in Ghiaccio purposefully rubbing the slick tip of his cock over your cheek. "Oi! Speak up!"

The thought of "Look what's in my mouth, asshole!" crossed your mind, but you--unfortunately--were given the chance to answer as Risotto withdrew his cock from your mouth.

A chance to finally breathe, even if your hands were still made to stroke and jerk off Melone and Illuso.

But what could you say? Answering jokingly and get punished. Answer falsely and get ridiculed. Answer defiantly and get ravaged.

Though, with your head spinning from what you've just gone through, what could you even say about how you felt? La Squadra were the outcasts that you've unfortunately been made to play babysitter for and now you were being dragged over to patch up their pride over a joking insult to their dick size.

Could you ever live it down with yourself to say you found pleasure from this--?

A whimper was suddenly released from your lips, your body arching in surprise when you felt something hard and hot glide right beneath and against your slippery core. Glancing down, you watched as Formaggio's cock slid back and forth, the obscene sound of your wetness made prominent. A rush of heat swept over you, initially because of his actions but moreso to see the smug and/or amused expressions form on the faces of the La Squadra men.

Formaggio leaned forward, his chin resting on your shoulder as he chuckled lecherously. "To answer the question for our speechless beauty of here, Risotto: there ain't a single shred of pride left."

"Then..." Risotto's crimson gaze seized hold of yours. "It's better that we fill the void then."

You shivered.

Upon the same floor where you stood proudly while delivering intel for their next task--all the while playfully threatening them on how if they screw up, they'd all be moving in with Ariel--was where you were left sprawled and across Risotto while he laid beneath you, his hands guiding your hips, hoisting you up before spearing your ass with his cock. Whereas you were wondering how you were going to fit his girth into your mouth left you crying out as you were stretched to accommodate his size.

It made you glad that Formaggio was so insistent on teasing and feeling you up, the bit of preparation that was spared to you.

For someone who carried himself with such silent intimidation, you were honestly astonished to hear him hiss out of pleasure, curses drawn from his lips while he savored your tightness. From the way he held your hips, it seemed clear that he would continue to take control of things. Though, rather than give you time to completely adjust, he droned out loud.

"Who's first?"

Ghiaccio took one defiant step forward, his eyes directly into yours as he growled. "Me...! Goddamn I've been waiting to put you in your place for so long!"

"Heh, weird fuckin' way of confessing your little crush, Ghiaccio." Formaggio smirked arrogantly from across him, all before he rolled his eyes and scowled. "But step aside. I haven't gotten any real action yet, so I'm goin' up first!"

"None of you fuckers are going until Pesci gets his ass over here!" Prosciutto rumbled vehemently, his head snapping over to where Pesci was still seated.

Having been rubbing himself through his pants at the display before him, he responded meekly with a shaky breath. "B-Big bro, it's fine...! I can...I can wait."

"Don't think you're gettin' outta this!"

You heard the devious chuckle of Melone as he observed, "The condition of your body--a good fit for Baby Face, but to be quite honest, you're an even better fit for me--"

"Mm, then I suppose I'll go first." Illuso grinned toothily while sliding right up to you, parting your legs with one hand while the other cupped your cheek. Seeing you tense, he let out a small, amused laugh before he leaned down to peck your lips. "Oh amore, don't you know I've always been fond of you~? Now, relax. I'll be gentle~"

While not as ungodly massive as Risotto, having to take in Illuso's cock--along with that of the aforementioned leader--left you groaning, your back arching as you were overwhelmed by how completely full you felt.

Illuso's teeth clenched as he groaned from entering your warmth, his head tilting back slightly while his smile remained plastered on his face. Slowly, he rocked his hips into and against yours, a contrast to the brutal pace that Risotto was quick to work himself up to."So divine...! Amore, you're something I'd be willing to sit through mass for~"

"God--- Goddamn you, Illuso!" Ghiaccio barked, envy in his eyes. The same could be said for the others present, annoyed that they were beaten to the punch.

Not that it mattered, for everyone would be having their way with you.

Engulfed. Seized. Posessed.

Being on your knees with your mouth open for their use was nothing compared to this.

Risotto acting as your foundation--even while he drilled his cock up into your ass with some otherwordly stamina--your legs remained parted for whomever wanted to claim you for himself. And even if you were preoccupied with two, your mouth and hands were made to be used to bide time until his inevitable turn, going so far as to rub his dick against your chest. Like that of a hydra, when one climaxed, there was always another eager to ravage whatever he could of you, regardless of whether they were able to make you climax or not.

Though relentlessly teasing, you were surprised by how tender Illuso was, with kisses to your neck while thrusting into you steadily before eventually finishing off on your stomach. By contrast, Ghiaccio took after his leader well, pounding into your core, mauling your chest with pinches and gropes, viciously biting at your neck and chest--though, he was pretty flustered when he heard Formaggio's jeer of "Ya' gonna confess your love now?" Even when he came deeply inside your core with a fierce growl, he was reluctant to leave, grunting that he still wasn't done with putting you in your place and wanted to go another round.

Which would have to wait since Prosciutto shoved him off of you, all the while dragging Pesci over and curtly ordering his partner to pay close attention.

Admittedly, anyone could seem gentle by comparison to Ghiaccio and Risotto, but Prosciutto was pumping into you with gusto. You always saw him as frigid and aloof, however, hearing him grunt and curse while his face was flushed red and contorted with pleasure was a side that you couldn't help but appreciate. His hand roamed across your chest, squeezing and groping--less rough and abrasive, more firm yet still pleasurable. Though, not to be too tender, he still made it a point to look down towards you as he hissed "And that makes three...!" as he emptied himself inside of you.

By contrast, Pesci tried. He thrusted into you clumsily, his hands moving over your body, unsure of where to grab or hold onto, even with Prosciutto by his side, instructing him on what to do.

"Aren't...aren't we supposed to hold hands?"

"Absolutely not!"

Eventually, he just grabbed onto your thighs for purchase, pushing his cock in and out of you with no true sense of rhythm or composure. He ended up slipping out of you right as he came, whimpering as his release just inches below your stomach.

Prosciutto patted his head, at first with a sigh before he remarked, "You did alright, Pesci. You did alright."

Amidst the out-of-place touching moment between the two, Melone beat Formaggio to claim you next. His face was twisted with feverish glee, matched by the way he burrowed his cock inside of you, licking his lips over and over in tune to his eager thrusts. The warmth of his tongue snaked along your torso, avoiding where others have smeared their cum, wanting to savor the unique taste of your skin and sweat. Cradling your hips, he thumbed over the skin in admiration, enjoying how they felt in his hands while imagining how glorious they would look while bearing a child. "Di molto...! You're perfect! Perfect!" He exclaimed while kissing and sucking the valley between your breasts.

Similarly to Ghiaccio, he refused to leave you once he eventually came while shivering delightedly that he got to pour his seed inside of you.

Though, with Formaggio yanking him away with the grumble of "God, sometimes your fucks really piss me off," such would not be the case.

Positioning himself between your legs, his mood changed as he winked flirtatiously. "But not you amore~ This is a wet dream come true!"

Yet more relief in contrast to the viciousness of Risotto. His thrusts were fluid, the shift of his hips adhering the experience he had to hone perfection. Warm lips wrapped around your nipples, him groaning as he joyfully buried his face into your chest, shaking his head from side to side against your skin. The callousness of his thumb on your clit offered a delightful sensation, especially as it was in perfect sync to his rhythm with you moaning and squeezing around his cock in response.

By now, your mouth was free, nothing to muffle or silence the noises of pleasure you released.

It was then that you felt Risotto nip at the base of your neck, catching your attention as his quickened his thrusts, becoming more unforgiving as you could feel his cock finally begin to throb within your ass. Your cries became a lot more apparent and clear, especially with both him and Formaggio fucking you. For how long you've endured the brunt of their brutish lust, allowed to cum whenever they felt like it, you milked the two for all they were worth as you came, feeling the heat of Risotto's release within while Formaggio's spilled onto you.

Your breath haggard and heaving, you fell back against the leader's chest, but as exhausted and drained as you were...

It felt good.

"The Boss's precious lapdog is now our little bitch in heat. How fitting," he snarled viciously against your ear. "Tch, to think that we've been getting ordered around by a shameless cock-hungry slut all this time."

His subordinates all laughed--some chuckling, others cackling. A bit of amusement before they readied themselves to have their way with you again.

There was no way they could let you go back to the Boss’s lap after this.

It seemed you were now part of that all.

#la squadra di esecuzione #risotto nero #ghiaccio #melone #prosciutto #illuso #formaggio #pesci #jjba #reader insert #summer of faffery #fic #super freaknasty writing #management will return in a queue minutes

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sweetersuga · 7 years

Text

Midnight Haze

BTS + EXO x reader (+WINNER)

Overall Warnings: angst, SEXUAL THEMES, POSSIBLE NON CONTENT, gore, prostitution, kidnapping, drugging - if you’re uncomfortable with ANY of these themes please avoid reading!

BTS/EXO gang!au

BTS visuals - EXO visuals

word count: 3,221

Being a recently turned 18 year-old, you lived on your own in a dingy apartment after moving out of home which consisted of just you and your 25 year-old abusive older sister after your mother’s undiscovered disappearance, that fell months after your 16th birthday. Your father walked out years before, with no explanation on your behalf, leaving you parent-less for what you’d consider to be most of your life. When you take a turn down a highway you’d never seen before, how will the rest of your life unfold?

“Alright ma’am, your total is $8.00. Would you like that for here or to go?” Glancing up at the snobbish woman before you, you smile politely as her eyes narrow in disbelief. Clutching her brown fur coat tightly to her body, she glares you up and down with hatred brimming her eyes and flicks a strand of hair out of her face.

“8 dollars!? The sale on that wall,” She points behind you, causing you to let out an inaudible sigh as you glance half-assedly behind you. “Says any cup of black coffee with six half sized soft baked sugar cookies only amounts up to $5! So are you trying to rip me off!?” She yells frustratingly.

This had probably been your 5th time explaining to customers that they were reading last Friday’s sale, which your coworker, Yifan, hadn’t taken down yet. Speaking of him, you hadn’t seen him come in since last week, but you hadn’t thought much of it.

“Well I’ll be damned!” She exclaimed loudly in shock, scoffing as she slammed her hands down on the counter. “Then why don’t you do something about it and take the sign down? Or are commoners as lazy as they are poor, now?”

This time you sigh loudly and shut your eyes, using every ounce of patience you had in you to keep you from exploding. “Ma’am, that’s not my job. All I do is take orders.”

“Well take this order I’m giving you!” She hissed. “Take the God damned sign down.”

“Or what?” You chuckled dryly, narrowing your eyes as you leaned against the table, your face inching closer to hers. You heard frantic footsteps pound against the floor from behind you and you and the woman both glanced over your shoulder to the left, realizing your boss had most likely overheard the woman’s loud screaming.

“Oh, thank goodness! Are you the manager?” She frowns impatiently and the short, fat balding man nods beside you, casting you an accusing glare before he smiles to the snobby woman, nodding. “Yes, what seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

“Your little..” She began, glancing you up and down. “Worker here, has been highly uninformative. I suggest to her that she takes down the outdated sale sign up there, then she starts threatening me!” She muttered loudly. With your mouth hung open in disbelief, you shrug your bosses shoulder ready to intervene. “That is not what happened. She started throwing a fit when I told her the sale’s over and that I’m not the one in charge of taking down the signs, it’s Yifan!”

“Well are you really so unprofessional that you couldn’t take it down yourself?” He scolded you and shrugged your hand away. You bit your lip and rolled your eyes as you began to cross your arms, shifting your weight to your right leg as you watched the unbelievable scene unfold before you. You glare back at the woman who only looks at you with a smirk, before she hums in delight.

“I’ll pay you $200 right here, right now, IF you fire her on the spot.” She grins proudly while reaching into her bag and your heart stops in your chest in shock.

“What?” You and your boss both exclaim simultaneously and the woman just laughs wholeheartedly, as if she was thoroughly enjoying this situation and making you suffer - which she probably was.

“Hell, I’ll make it $500 if you’d like! I have more than enough to keep the pests at bay,” she winked to your boss. “so what do you say?”

“This is ridiculous! Who the fuck do you think you are, acting like whether I work here or not is in your hands? You’re probably too old to even remember how to count, so why the fuck do you think you’re such a big shot, huh?” You yell in anger as you slam your hands down in the counter, surprising both your boss and the woman who probably assumed you’d stay quiet in fear of losing your job. Everyone in the coffee-bakery shop now watched as you yelled at the woman quietly, some even beginning to reach for their phones.

“Y/N! How dare you yell at a costumer like that!? This is unbelievable. You’re fired, get out of my store.” He demanded calmly. A look of hurt and disbelief quickly flashed across your face and sucking your teeth, you nod silently and yank your apron off, tossing it at your boss who caught it with ease as you headed to the back of the shop to grab your belongings. “God, I can’t believe this. Yifan, where the hell are you?”

After you packed everything of yours up into your book bag, you headed out towards your car, grumbling nonsense because of the previous events, along with the fact you accidentally dropped the keys to your car underneath the vehicle. No, you weren’t a bad person. You were a good person, which is why you never let anyone treat you as if you were littler than them, because growing up, no one ever taught you to stand up for yourself.

You could recall the moment you first finally stood up to your sister who always yelled profanities at you, expecting you to sit there and take it just because she was older, and she used you like her punching bag. There were multiple times when she hit you, leaving marks and bruises on different sections of your delicate skin. You informed your mom and your dad, but all they’d do was scold your sister for a brief second, then envelope themselves back into whatever work they were doing. You were your own life coach even when mom and dad were around; it seemed they never had time for you and your older sister, therefore you learned to value yourself over everyone else.

Was it stingy of you? No, more logical than anything else really; why you should submit yourself to degradation, instead of letting others know their own limits? That was what you believed to be the problem with the world. People with a higher status always believed they could inflict whatever kind of pain they wanted on those of a lower status; no one ever expected them to stand up for themselves just because of their title, or therefore lack of one. You had seen it happen too many times for your liking, and each time, you just wished to run up to those people, and scold them for not sticking up for themselves.

15 minutes later, you were already in your car, a third of the way down the road to your way home. Despite it being only 6:45, due to the recent turn of spring, the days still passed by much quicker than you’d like, leaving you in almost complete darkness thanks to the lack of sunlight.

Your heart nearly stopped entirely once you arrived to the highway you’ve always been used to taking since you got the job, only to see that it had been blocked off. Furrowing your eyebrows, you immediately stepped out of the car to take a better look at the construction warning cones scattered across from left to right, completely blocking your entry back to home.

“The hell?” You muttered in confusion. “that wasn’t even there this morning.. Oh well.” With a sigh, you head back into your car, and thankfully since oddly enough, no one else was around, you just u-turned on the same road, heading backwards until you were back at stage 1.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to head down the path to the right; one you’ve never taken before, in hopes of it successfully leading you home. Your GPS automatically reset and you whispered out a “Yes!” when you noticed that after at least an hour, you’d still be lead to the basic direction of your home.

You immediately noticed the path you were now taking was a very woody area filled with trees, and you reluctantly allowed yourself to become worried. You couldn’t help but feel intimidated by such a foreign place, especially once you managed to make it off of the highway. Attempting to cool your nerves, you tried to avoid taking in your suspicious surroundings. The area you were in looked much poorer and run down than any place you were usually used to. Many homes and buildings looked old and chipped away, mold growing on most of them, and there was graffiti on almost all the buildings you turned to. Except this time, there were people outside. You noticed many men rather than anyone else; all of them wearing hoods and you couldn’t make out most of their faces.

You focused your attention back on the road, nearly screaming when you realized a cat had ran right in front of your car onto the other side of the street. You gripped onto your steering wheel for dear life, reducing the speed of the vehicle you were inside as you inhaled sharply. After about 20 solid minutes of following your GPS and making random abrupt turns, you now made your way onto another empty road. Your nerves began subtly calming down by each minute that passed, until you noticed something - or someone, laying down passed out on the road. Your eyes widened in shock and you abruptly slammed your breaks as you got closer, undoing your seat belt and you basically flew out of the car, jogging towards the figure on the ground.

You knelt down and observed the mans’ features. The man had soft red hair that stuck to his forehead by what you assumed to be sweat and blood. You couldn’t make out his eyes as they were shut; but his skin was a cream peachy color, although with your headlights shining on him, he appeared pale. He had on a grey sweatshirt and a pair of worn out black skinny jeans covered in dust and dirt.

“He-hello? Sir, are you alright? Can you hear me?” You begin, gently shaking the man to see if he’d wake. You couldn’t find any blood anywhere else on his body; only his forehead, but as you pushed his hair out of his face to inspect the wound, you found there was none.

You shook him again, to which he began stirring awake and groaned. “What happened? What’s going on?” His deep voice filled your ears, sounding panicked.

“I don’t know, I was just driving, and-” You motioned behind you towards your car. “I saw you just laying here on the road. Do you remember anything that happened? There was blood on your forehead, but I checked and there’s no cuts or anything on you!”

The guy started chuckling much to your confusion, which turned to a full on gut-clutching fit of laughter.

“Are you.. Alright? Why are you laughing..?” You mumble, panic overflowing your senses.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” The man slyly smirks, raising his hand up to caress your face. You smacked his hand away and as you were about to stand up, a figure from behind you locked both of your elbows out towards their chest with their arms, and slammed you down over onto the hood of your car.

“Good catch, Yeol,” a giggle came from behind you, except this voice was much lighter than the red haired boy who was now stood up, dusting his hands off as he walked towards you and the man holding you captive in his death grip.

“What the hell!? Let me go!” You yelled, attempting to yank yourself away from the guy behind you, to no avail.

“Yeol, open the car and get in. Drive us back home, I’ll put her in the back.”

The guy who’s now known as ‘Yeol’ simply nodded and the man gripping you dragged you over to the backseat and opened the door, tossing you inside next to your bag while ‘Yeol’ got in the front seat. Before the other got the chance to slam the door behind you, you quickly glanced to his face, taking in his looks. His hair was dark, although you couldn’t tell the shade due to the lack of light, and his eyes were equally as dark. He was dressed in a red turtleneck and a maroon tinted coat draped over his broad shoulders. His eyes were intimidating and puffy; when they trailed over you, you only shivered at the dangerous, deep feeling they held inside of them, and his feline-like mouth twitched up into a sick grin. He made his way to the passenger’s seat of the car, and redhead locked all of the doors and started driving.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” You spoke calmly, causing the dark haired boy to turn his head towards you and the same grin appeared on his lips.

“I’m Tao,” he points to himself, then points to the red haired man. “and that’s Chanyeol, and we think you’d be the perfect addition to our collection!” giggling, he casts a wink towards you before turning back towards the road.

“Collection? What is that supposed to mean!? Who do you think you are, to just kidnap me like this!?” You scream, masking your true fear behind a front of bravery.

“Damn, that’s a new one,” Chanyeol muttered, causing Tao to hum in confusion.

“Mm?”

“None of them act brave like that. They all start begging and crying as soon as you come out,” He snickered. “then again, I don’t think she’s seen your face, that’s probably why she’s not screaming her head off now. Hell, I screamed the first time I saw you, too.”

“Hey!” Tao hissed. “Last time I checked, I pulled more bitches than you. They scream ‘cause they can’t resist this,” he motioned towards himself. You only watched them bicker back and forth in horror; have they really done this before? Tricked women into getting themselves kidnapped, for some sort of messed up ‘collection’?

“What ‘collection’?” You repeated loudly, but they continued to ignore you. You sighed in defeat, accepting that you weren’t going to get any form of answer out of them.

After what felt like an hour of them driving, they had reset your GPS long ago and now, you had absolutely no idea where you were. You made a point to stay awake the whole time they were driving, just to make sure they didn’t do anything to you in your sleep.

Chanyeol didn’t care much when he drove passed the speed limit, and soon, sirens blared loudly, causing him to groan and bang his fist against the wheel roughly. As he pulled over, he looked at you in the mirror, threatening you. “If you scream or do anything, I’ll kill the officer and make sure you get extra punishment at home.” Slowly, you nodded your head and looked at him in confusion when he rushed to take his hoodie off, throwing it at you. You choked as you accidentally inhaled the scent of his cotton sweater which reeked of cigarette smoke.

“Put this on, and put the hood on. Make sure your face’s covered.” He ordered and you gulped, doing as he said. By the time you yanked it over your head, the officer strutted to the front of the car, tapping his flashlight against the window. Chanyeol rolled it down, nodding at the officer.

“Do you know how fast you were going, sir? And what the speed limit is?” The officer asked, bending down to glance into the car. You breathed slowly as Chanyeol spoke.

“Yes, sir, I was going 65..” He cleared his throat lowly. “And the speed limit?”

“It’s 55, sir.”

“Do you know how danger-” The officer started, yet stopped once his eyes shadowed over you. He cleared his throat and reverted his attention back to Chanyeol, slightly eyeing Tao warily. He obviously knew something was up. “Do you know how dangerous speeding is?”

“Yes, I do, sir. My girlfriend and I needed to drop my friend off,” He motioned towards Tao. “and I figured it was getting pretty late. We wanted to drop him off and get back home quickly.” You were shocked at how smoothly he lied, if you were in the officer’s position, you probably would’ve believed him with ease.

The officer nodded. “Alright. May I see your license?” He asks, and for a brief moment, you get your hopes up since you realized they both had no idea where your wallet was.

“Yeah, of course! I didn’t bring mine with me, but my girlfriend did, right babe? This is your car, after all.” He smiles as he looks back at you, although his eyes held something different; something much darker, and you knew if you didn’t go along with his plan, things would get messy very quick. You nodded quickly and pushed your hair behind your ear as you fumbled with your book bag. Your hands were shaking as you reached for the front pocket, unzipping it and swallowing an everlasting lump in your throat as you pulled out your wallet. You grabbed your drivers license, and slowly passed it towards Chanyeol, who snatched it out of your grip. He handed it to the officer who observed it carefully.

“Sir, if this is your girlfriend’s car, why are you driving and not her?” He finally asks after what felt like ages. Hope sparked up inside your chest, and you hoped he caught on, but much to your luck, Chanyeol was too persuasive.

“She’s felt sick all morning. I offered to drive for her, since we pretty much live right next to each other, I didn’t really mind.”

Chills ran up and down your arms, despite wearing Chanyeol’s thick sweater. All you could think about was how the scene before you would play out. Either the officer would catch onto something suspicious, or he’d believe Chanyeol and lead you off into whatever doom would be awaiting you at the place Chanyeol called ‘home’.

The officer nodded and let out a sigh as he stood up straight. “Alright. Just watch what you’re doing - don’t want any accidents happening.” The red haired boy agreed with a soft laugh and rolled the window up quickly as the officer headed back to the police car.

“Well, that went pretty damn smooth.” Tao finally spoke and Chanyeol chuckled, sending you a glance through the mirror. Your fear was now replaced by hatred and anger as he acted as if nothing was actually wrong, despite literally kidnapping you and holding you hostage in your own car! You glared at him immensely, but avoided opening your mouth. You didn’t know how dangerous these men were and what they could do with you.

“What do you think Baek will think, though? He’s probably gonna get all pissy,” Tao visibly frowned.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll reason with him,” Smirks Chanyeol as he begins driving.

A/N: So what do you guys think? i hope this was good! also i hope this series doesn’t become too cliche or too much like other gang fics. if you enjoyed reading, please let me know by leaving a like or anything! thank you x

#bts x reader #exo x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #exo fanfic #exo fanfiction #bts angst #exo angst #60 noTES IM SHook

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