#i do quite enjoy the sketchy and looseness in this one | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theghostpinesmusic · 6 months

Text

Eagle Cap Circumnavigation (2/4)

I woke up on the first full day of my Eagle Cap circumnavigation feeling much less sick, and therefore more optimistic about my ability to do the whole hike without it turning into a death march. I didn't know at the time, as I finished packing up my camp and headed east toward the nearby Cliff Creek Trail, that I was starting what would turn out to be the longest single day of hiking I've done (so far) while carrying a full backpack.

Maybe I should have seen this coming, as I didn't have a very firm plan when heading out that morning, and lack of an end goal usually leads me to hike more, not less. I knew I wanted to head north, toward the Lakes Basin, but Mirror Lake, in the heart of the basin, was quite a distance from Crater Lake (GaiaGPS said 17 miles and 5,000 feet of elevation, and it usually underestimates). In-between were a number of great camp spots like the Frazier Lakes, Glacier Lake, and Moccasin Lake. I had to think about how to balance how far I wanted to travel on this day as well as the next day to reach my final camping goal, which was Hidden Lake on the other side of Eagle Cap. Knowing I'd be spending a lot of time on the trail alone and in my own head, I hadn't bothered to figure this out before getting to the trailhead, enjoying the excitement of the idea of deciding what to do intuitively, as I hiked. I just knew, as an outer limit on my mileage for the day, that I did not intend to walk all the way to Mirror Lake and would definitely stop before then.

Should I just post the photos of my camp at Mirror Lake now, or have you already guessed what happened because you've read this blog before?

Okay, so, like the first day, I somehow started the second day of the hike by getting lost. This trip report is making me seem like an absolute doofus, so in my admittedly shaky defense I will say that both the trail emerging from the East Eagle trailhead (where I got lost on day one) and the trail emerging from the east side of Crater Lake (where I got lost on day two) were churned up quite a bit and featured a number of "unofficial" spin-offs due to people riding horses in the area while the ground was muddy. I'm not strongly for or against horses in Wilderness Areas here, just making an observation and a meager defense of my own stupidity.

In this case, I managed to follow a sort-of trail for nearly a mile (in the right direction, east, but, as it would turn out, about five hundred feet uphill from the "real" trail). I had some reservations about this trail from the get-go, but I stayed on it all the way until it dead-ended nearly a mile from Crater Lake at an impromptu, empty camp site. Then there was no trail and I had to accept the fact that I was lost again. Whoops.

Fortunately, once I realized I was in trouble and took a moment to hike out to a more meadow-y, open part of the not-trail, I could actually see other backpackers five hundred feet below me traversing the same hill on the trail I was supposed to be on. So, I started my day, more or less, with an extremely sketchy descent down an old drainage filled with loose rocks until I reached the trail. At least this area was gorgeous, with the face of Marble Mountain looming in front of me, and Red and Granite Mountains hanging seemingly nearly overhead. My knees, though, would remind of this unplanned descent for the rest of the day.

Once I was back on the (real) trail, things were pretty straightforward for awhile. I took the Cliff Creek Trail to where it dead-ended into the South Fork Imnaha River, spent a minute trying to find a place to cross that would allow me to keep my boots dry, shimmied across a wet log, then had a friendly chat with another solo backpacker who was taking a lunch break on a little island in the middle of the river. The backpacker told me that she had camped at Frazier Lake the previous night after finding the wind to be overwhelming at Glacier Lake (a common occurrence, in my experience). I filed that information away for later, then continued north(ish) from there.

After another mile or so, the valley really started to open up. I could see the odd-looking cliffs of the Cusick Peaks and a little of Cusick Mountain hovering to my right, while the striking face of Jackson Peak reared up further ahead.

Up until now all the hiking I'd done since parking the car had been on trails I'd never traveled before in the Wallowas. I knew Hawkins Pass was coming up soon, but I knew very little about what it was like other than that you gained nearly a half-mile in elevation between the intersection with the river and the top of the pass. I had some general hope that it would be "cool," based on other passes I'd crossed in the Wallowas previously that provided views of some absolutely insane landscape (Glacier Pass, Polaris Pass, Tenderfoot Pass, and Ivan Carper Pass come to mind), but I was a blank slate otherwise.

So, as I was gearing myself up both physically and aesthetically (?) for my first crossing of Hawkins Pass I encountered another solo hiker, who was doing the same loop I was doing, but from the opposite direction. We traded stories and ideas for future hikes for a few minutes, and then he proceeded to try to describe how crazy Hawkins Pass was while his eyes bugged out of his head. I heard the words "enormous glacial cirque" and then I was more or less off and running (in a manner of speaking) from there. Why else come to the Wallowas in the first place, but for ENORMOUS GLACIAL CIRQUES?

The (still) long approach to the climbing portion of the pass was both absolutely beautiful and seemed to drag on and on, as each turn in trail revealed another (but not the final) exposure of the previously-advertised enormous glacial cirque. It felt contradictory to rush through such a beautiful landscape, but each turn revealed an even better view, leading me to plow through the lead up to the pass proper like a five-year-old plowing through a stack of presents on Christmas morning, each gift only serving as motivation to find and open the next one.

When I finally saw the full scale of the thing, it knocked the breath out of me for a minute. Obviously, photos don't really do it justice. This was my first-ever hike in the Wallowas with a wide-angle lens, and all it really did was make even more clear how hard it is to capture the landscape with a camera in any meaningful way.

After the big reveal, it was lots of climbing and lots of wind. The trail winds ingeniously up and to the north (left in the picture), eventually giving you a wonderful view of the valley you just spent an hour or two hiking up.

As I got higher, the path got narrower, and the wind became a bit of a liability for someone with a moderate fear of falling-from-heights, but before too long I'd reached the top of Hawkins Pass.

Coming from the south side of the pass, which was all fall foliage and (I think?) limestone rock faces, the north side presented a view and palette that was more familiar to me as I neared the area of the Wallowas that I'd hiked in before.

From here, I could see for the first time terrain that I knew: Eagle Cap and Glacier Peak reared up in the background, and though I'd never seen them from this angle before, the Frazier Lakes laid out in the valley below like a teal necklace a giant had dropped and left behind.

I wound down the north side of the pass, at this point so used to hiking uphill that the quick, nearly-1,000-foot drop felt like a reprieve instead of yet more work. I stopped for the first substantive break of the day (as opposed to a few previous less-than-five-minutes breaks) at Little Frazier Lake, which seemed to be lacking decent camping sites but provided a great view of the pass's north-side cirque.

Post-break, I continued on downhill a bit further before reaching the intersection between the West Fork Wallowa Trail and the Glacier Pass Trail. This was the first time, fifteen or so miles into the trip, where I stepped onto ground I had walked before. From the trail intersection, I could see where Lindsey and I had camped at Frazier Lake in 2017, while completing a counter-clockwise take on the Lakes Basin Loop hike. After having my mind blown by Hawkins Pass, it was a bit sad to know there wouldn't be any other "new" surprises until I reached the west side of Eagle Cap, likely midway through the third day of the trip. On the other hand, it was comforting to be somewhere I was more familiar with, especially after struggling to follow the trail a few times back in the "rougher," southern part of the wilderness. Also, one of my absolute favorite parts of the whole wilderness was coming up soon: Glacier Pass.

As I mentioned above, the Frazier Lakes had been the first potential stopping point for me on day two. I reached them about two hours earlier than my imagined "slowest possible" time, though, which meant that when the decision to stop and camp or not was actually upon me, there was plenty of daylight left and I chose pretty much immediately to pass them up in the name of using more daylight to cover more miles and set myself up for an easier third day tomorrow.

The good and bad news, then, was that the next step was climbing Glacier Pass, an absolutely gorgeous glacier-carved pass leading up and then back down into the famous Lakes Basin: I'd be climbing 1,400 more feet up, then deciding whether or not to camp at the beautiful but notoriously windy Glacier Lake, then descending 1,000 more feet down if not. Past Glacier Pass, I'd likely be hiking in the twilight, and would have to hope to find a spot to camp in the busiest area in the wilderness after nightfall.

The scenery around Glacier Pass is another one of those things that's almost impossible to capture with a camera, but it's emblematic of what makes the Wallowas incredible to me: the scope of some of these glacial valleys is just unlike anything I've seen anywhere else I've been. To reach the top of the pass and look back to see another hiker a half-mile behind you (as I did during this hike) looking like an ant squirming around within an impossibly huge landscape is an overwhelming experience. And then you keep walking.

Like with Hawkins Pass, I have thirty or so more photos I could share of this pass-crossing, but it's probably best to just get on with it.

Glacier Lake was as stunning as always, emerging as does, in reverse, from the West Fork Wallowa River, if you're following the trail up from the south as I was. Glacier Peak leaned over top of the whole tableau, reminding me yet again that I haven't summitted it yet, and Eagle Cap occasionally peeked coyly out from behind the background hills, egging me on toward the Lakes Basin that it presides over like a monarch.

I've never camped at Glacier Lake because, as beautiful as it is, there is always a freezing wind tearing across its surface. In 2017, Lindsey and I had planned to spend a night there, and ended up descending to Frazier Lake instead to stay warm. In 2019, we had also planned to spend a night there, then bailed for an already-established camp at Moccasin Lake after the wind once again scared us off. I was really into the idea of this trip being The Time, was convinced I'd really be camping there, finally. There was even a great, open camp spot right on the lake, a rarity in a part of the wilderness that is usually a little overpopulated by humans. But there was also the wind. Again.

I didn't have a lot of daylight left at this point, but rather than motivating me to stop, set up my tent, and enjoy shelter, it underscored exactly how cold it was going to be once the sun went down on the shore of Glacier Lake. My hands and feet had mostly gone numb from the gale the moment I reached the lake, and it wasn't going to get any warmer until tomorrow. I stopped and thought about it for a minute, chatted with a few established campers, and then decided to continue on to the top of Glacier Pass and beyond. Maybe next time.

Glacier Lake looks unreal from near the top of the pass. I almost turned around and went back. Almost.

This was already much further than I'd planned on hiking, already the furthest I'd ever hiked in a day with a full pack, and, likely the most elevation I'd ever gained in one day with a full pack. Getting a new personal best (time, distance, elevation, etc.) tends not to mean a lot to me as I'm generally not very competitive even with myself. Instead, it's usually more esoteric "rewards" (like the view from Hawkins Pass) that motivate me; however, at this point in the day even the descent of the striking north side of Glacier Pass, a view that filled the sky with old friends (Eagle Cap, Sacajawea Peak, the Matterhorn, and so on), and the spectacle of the Lakes Basin coming into view below me were overcome a bit by my just being tired and hungry and having feet that hurt.

I did in fact descend all the way into the Lakes Basin, and continued on past a super-busy Moccasin Lake (where a nice older woman offered to let me set up camp nearer to her than would normally be polite, as she was concerned about me still being out and about in the darkness) to a surprisingly less-busy Mirror Lake. In the midst of summer, finding a spot on the granite slabs along the shore of Mirror Lake is a bit like finding rental property...well, basically anywhere these days. For some reason, though, everyone was camped out around Moccasin Lake instead on this particular night. So, I swooped in just at sunset and grabbed a wonderful spot right near the lake, with a perfect view of Eagle Cap.

I set up the tent right as it got truly dark, had to cook and eat in the dark, and crawled into my tent for the night almost immediately afterward. I had covered way more distance than I'd expected to in one day, but my third day, the hike to Hidden Lake, was still going to be a bit of a doozy.

In the end, my GPS watch recorded the trip from Crater Lake to Mirror Lake as an 18.25 mile hike, with 4,200 feet of elevation gain. I realize that for some, that's just an average day on the JMT, but for me it was a lot. I slept like it.

#backpacking #hiking #photos #camping #traveling #eagle cap wilderness #wallowas #eastern oregon #mountains

0 notes

whattheheckmidoriya · 3 years

Note

hi <3 i was wondering if i could request a #7 from the injury reveal prompt list for my mans sergeant hunter

( “ who did this to you? “ “ silence* “ hey, look at me. look at me. who did this to you? )

Bruised Eyes

Pairing: Hunter x Reader

Genre: Fluff?? Angst?? FLANGST???

Warnings: Mention of bar fights, mentions of harrassment (no descriptions, though!), quick mention of injuries, Hunter being a softie

Word Count: 1,392

Join the taglist here!

Author's Note: I was so excited to write this!! Hunter is my favorite member of the Bad Batch, so I definitely enjoyed this! I hope you like it, corazón, and thank you for trusting me with your request!

• • •

Maker, you just wanted to sleep.

You wanted to get back to your apartment, cleanse yourself from the day’s troubles, and sleep until way past your wake-up time. Maybe you could even skip work tomorrow— call in sick and just take the entire day to hide away in the comfort of your home.

You worked at a bar on the lower levels of Coruscant, and while it wasn’t always pretty, you really just needed a paycheck to keep a roof over your head. Hunter hated it, told you to quit and find something better—safer—to do than serving at a sketchy bar full of nut jobs that were one drink away from starting a fight, but there were no openings for nicer places like 79’s. He never liked the idea of you being down there, hated the thought of you getting caught in the middle of a drunk fight and getting hurt.

And he had reason to feel that way.

There have been times where you’d come back to your apartment with a new bruise or a cut from a broken glass trailing your arms, and Hunter would have to patch you up after the whole ordeal had left you drained of every beautiful spark that lit your eyes. He’s seen you come back with a limp, a broken nose, cuts, and bruises that took weeks to heal. He felt a piece of him shatter every time you came back battered and bruised, a part of him cursing himself for not being there to keep you safe.

Hunter had taken it upon himself to teach you how to defend yourself. He never stayed on Coruscant long enough to teach you the fancier stuff, but he did what he could to ensure that you could protect yourself in the case of another fight. He ran you through different maneuvers— how to disarm someone with a vibroblade or blaster, how to escape someone’s grip, how to knock someone out without hurting yourself— all in hopes that he wouldn’t have to see you drag yourself back home so brokenly again.

But you both knew luck and training wouldn’t always be on your side. Tonight was a testament to that.

Your shift was hard. Your customers were drunk beyond recognition. You were once again pulled into a fight you had no intentions of being a part of.

It had totally slipped your mind that Hunter had landed on Coruscant that day and would be waiting for you in your apartment, so when you walked through the front door, you weren’t expecting to jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice.

“Kinda jumpy tonight, aren’t ya?” he chuckled, pushing off of your couch to meet you at the door.

Even with your aching body, you couldn’t ignore the warmth that blossomed in your chest at the sight of your lover. His bandanna was long gone, letting his thick, curly locks to cascade around his face with no restraints. The pieces of loungewear you had gotten for him hung loosely from his frame, making him look so much softer than he did with his blacks. Shadows from the night sky pooled in from your windows, dancing over his face as a gentle smile settled on his lips.

You huffed a breath of laughter, leaning into his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his warmth. “Sorry, you simply caught me off guard is all,” you mumbled into his chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you breathed in the soft scent that was so unforgettably him, letting your muscles relax slightly.

“How was work today? No one gave you too much trouble?” Your breath hitched, and you cursed yourself for it, knowing his senses caught onto the seizing of your breathing. He pulled away from you gently, a look of concern glimmering in his eyes. You tried turning your face away in an attempt to hide the bruises on your skin, but he gently took hold of your chin, tilting your face back to him.

He didn't say anything for a few moments, his eyes widening and darkening at the sight of your bruised eyes and busted lip.

“Hunter, it’s not that bad—”

“Who did this to you?” His voice rumbled lowly in his chest, something akin to anger and concern weighing on his words.

A lump settled on your throat, your heart plummeting to your stomach as he narrowed his eyes at the darkening bruises on your skin. You let your eyes fall from his gaze, your stomach twisting sickeningly into knots as anxiety burned in your veins.

You hated this. Hated seeing him worry— hated being the cause of his worries. Your shoulders drooped with exhaustion, eyes refusing to meet his again.

Hunter gently cupped your face in his calloused hands, pulling you in so your forehead was pressed against his. “Hey, look at me.” He called, caressing your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in an attempt to soothe the racing of your heartbeat. When you didn’t meet his gaze he tried again. “Look at me. Who did this to you?”

Your lips quivered, tearful eyes meeting his own as you took in a sharp breath. “Some son of a bantha was harassing this woman at the bar today,” you started, your voice wavering with unshed tears. “He wouldn’t… he kept bothering her. No-nobody tried stepping in to help her,” Hunter encouraged you to keep talking, a gentle glint of his eyes giving you the strength to continue. “No one was trying to protect her… so I did.”

Hunter’s eyes widened at your confession, and without warning he pulled you close to his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head as he released a breath that was stuck in his chest. He held you tightly, a piece of him wanting to squeeze you in his heart so you could understand how great his love for you truly was. Gently, he rubbed circles on your back, hoping to express all these fuzzy feelings he still didn’t fully understand.

“You’re so strong, mesh'la. So brave,” he mumbled into your neck, voice low and full of adoration.

You clung onto him tightly, silent tears racing down your cheeks as he tightened his arms around you. At that moment, you felt so remarkably safe. His warmth engulfed your heart with a promise of nurturing it with a love so gentle but so reckless.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” He smiled, wiping away your hot years with his thumbs. “I had a feeling you would be coming late, so I set your favorite loungewear on your bed.”

You nodded gratefully, letting him guide you to the ‘fresher. He gently helped you out of your filthy clothes, setting them aside as you stepped into the shower with a sigh, letting the warm water melt the tension that hung onto your muscles. Once done cleansing your body, Hunter was at the ready with a towel in hand, carefully wrapping it around your figure before letting you slip into the fresh set of clothes in your room.

He stepped away for a moment, soon returning to sit next to you with a makeshift ice pack in hand. The mattress dipped under his weight, making you turn to face him and meet his loving eyes.

A sigh flew past your lips as he pressed the ice pack onto one of your bruised eyes, making him chuckle at how you leaned into the coolness of it.

“Thank you, Hunter.” You mumbled tiredly, charging your words with all the love you could summon.

He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head, a lopsided, lazy grin settling on his lips. “No need to thank me, mesh’la.” He pulled the ice pack away from you for a moment, making you frown as you looked at him. “You’re not going back to that place, okay? I’ll help you find somewhere safe where you can work— I promise.”

You hummed gratefully, letting yourself fall into the comfort of your pillows, smiling as Hunter followed your lead.

“Can I ask you something?” You nodded, tilting your head to urge him to continue. “Who threw the final punch?”

You snickered, smiling tiredly before pulling the icepack back to your beaten eye. “I did.”

“That’s my girl.”

#whattheheckmidoriya #star wars #sergeant hunter x reader #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x reader #hunter x reader #clone force 99 x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #clone trooper hunter x reader #tcw x reader #star wars x reader

443 notes · View notes

youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Note

I had a dream just now that might make a good story. So, I had a virus on my laptop which allowed a hacker to see everything I did on my computer and use my webcam. The hacker ends up falling in love with me after stalking me for a few months and pays for someone on the dark web to kidnap me. It works, and then I wake up tied up in the hacker's arm as he caresses and kisses me. That's pretty much it, good night! 🌙

Yo this is my kink 😳

Also I couldn't not write this for Saeran, ok.

Title: Stranger danger

Tw: nsfw - ish, female reader, masturbation, cyber stalking, hacking, mentions of dark web, very irresponsible online behavior, obsessive behavior, implied kidnapping

You knew that this was a stupid idea. Lurking on the dark web with almost no protection other than the Tor browser and some free anti-virus program wasn't your best decision, but fuck it if it wasn't entertaining. You had always been drawn to the darker, scarier part of the human mind and this side of the internet proved quite interesting. Your friends always warned you about the dangers that came with looking up shady online searches and sites but everything had been quite peaceful so far. There weren't hackers or murderers on the dark web, the worst you had seen were people selling drugs and weapons for unreasonable prices, along with some questionable fetish porn and the typical popping ads.

Your favorite thing to do while online was chatting. Two weeks ago you had stumbled upon an unusual forum called "Scream buddies" where upon entering you were automatically connected to another random profile. The whole theme of the forum was discussing horror and mondo movies, shockumentaries and overall creepy stuff, your forte. The person you met on there shared a similar fascination with all things dark and gory which soon made talking to them the only thing you were looking forward upon opening the site.

You didn't know much about the guy behind the profile yet, except that he was a young man. His icon showed an eye so green it emited with the neon pigment and his username was just as mysterious - BlueRose7. You enjoyed chatting with him about your hobby but the thing you liked the most was undressing him little by little, metaphorically so, by getting pieces of information about his life. It started small - his favorite food, favorite book, favorite game, but the moment you tried digging deeper and asked whether he had siblings or not, the man simply disappeared for the next few days. You quickly realized just what type of topics you needed to avoid to keep your new friend from leaving. Family, childhood memories and work matters were out of the picture.

The stranger wasn't fair, not really. He didn't show you vulnerability and kept his secrecy while demanding to know everything there was to know about you. For the longest time you didn't want to answer just to stay on a equal footing, just to show him how frustrating it was, but there was something about the man that drew you in. He was magnetic, clever and witty, if a bit pessimistic and dark at times. You couldn't help telling him everything he wanted to hear - what your job was, whether you were single or not, all that jazz. In your defense, BlueRose7 actually listened to your stories, took your problems seriously and provided solutions, which despite being too extreme and overprotective at times (upon hearing that your bestfriend talked behind your back he offered to "take care" of her), were comforting. It was nice to have someone caring around even if you met him on a sketchy website.

Meanwhile your personal life wasn't going too great. You had to balance between attending college, working long shifts as a waitress and meeting your friends from time to time which was draining. On top of all there was a weird virus on your computer which resulted in the camera turning on and off and the most random times of the day - while you were studying, watching TV, or in some cases, fully naked and ready to take a bath. You didn't think much of it though, with all the illegal movies and games you downloaded along with the dark web lurking it was more than expected for your laptop to behave weirdly. You didn't even mention it to your friend from the IT major because you knew that he'd force you to delete Tor and put an end to your internet adventures.

One time you were particularly bored after several long lectures and you were laying in bed, the camera turned on once again. It was a hot afternoon and you were wearing boyshorts and a loose T- shirt with nothing underneath it, you were home alone so there was no need. The bright red spot was twinking like a recorder, the light reflecting in your eyes, when a silly little idea came to your mind. You slid your hand under your blouse and lifted the fabric up, exposing your breasts to the laptop, your nipples hardening due to the sudden coldness, becoming pink and stiff in seconds. You played with for a few minutes, pinching and pulling the buds gently, moaning softly into the pleasant sensation. Soon you could feel yourself getting wet, and slowly, teasingly, removed your shorts and panties. You smiled at the camera, biting your lip provocatively, imagining you were a camgirl performing for her desperate little fanboys and fangirls. The thought alone was enough to make you spread your legs wide and slip two fingers into your throbbing cunt, using the wetness to push deeper. You used your other hand to stroke your clit and whimpered wantonly, your face red, your neck sweaty and your heart pumping fast from the adrenaline. You were quickly reaching your orgasm and your mind wondered to the boy you were talking to in the forum. You wondered how he looked like, how his body was built, whether he was a sweet sensual lover or a rough mean one. Fucked up as it was, you pictured the man as one of your most loyal viewers, watching all of your streams with a fist around his thick vock and an excited grin on his face. He would comment things like "you look so beautiful like this" or perhaps even "pretty little slut" after tipping you enough to last you a week. Soon all the mental stimulation sent you over the edge and you came with a loud cry full of pleasure. Well, this felt good.

After your "performance" was over the camera was magically turned off, which may have caused some concerns if you weren't too busy feeling embarrassed and dirty about the unhinged fantasy you had just had, and with a person you knew nothing about. You managed to calm down though - it wasn't nothing more than a fun pastime, a naughty thought that would never become the reality. You would never actually meet BlueRose7, right? There was nothing to worry about, so you just went on with your day.

You had some dinner afterwards and decided to have an early night as you already felt full and tired. You put on your favoruite pajamas and laid in bed, staring at the ceiling until you fell into deep dreamless sleep.

You woke up due to a weird noise. You could hear someone's heavy breathing right next to your ear, someone's grabby hands were wrapped tightly against your body, trapping you between the wall and their hard chest. You had only a few seconds to scream before the intruder's palm covered your mouth.

"Shhh." The man whispered softly and stroked your hair like you were a doll he was playing with. "Don't scream or I'll be forced to hurt you, flower. I have a gun." His voice sounded deep and rough but this didn't stop you from thrashing and turning on your side until you came face to face with the man. It was dark in the room and you couldn't exactly see all his features but his enchanting green eyes would forever be burned into your memory - they seemed dashing, hypnotizing. You couldn't utter a word.

"It's me, the person you've been talking to all these months. I came to take you home" He spoke out suddenly, the line of his mouth twisting into a smile or a smirk, you couldn't quite tell. You shook your head no, tears threatening to spill all over your cheeks from the fear. It couldn't be him, the man would never do that to you. Or would he? With what little information you knew, you couldn't really tell. His hold finally loosen, seeing you quiet like that.

"Let me go, please." You begged, pushing at his shoulders weakly since you were still sleepy, groggy and tired. "I don't know you." You said, hoping this would remind the stranger you weren't friends, lovers or anything that gave him the right to be so close to you, to touch you so intimately. Unfortunately, this only seemed to amuse him and he chucked darkly as he pulled your hair away to place a small chaste kiss on your neck.

"But I know you, flower." Your supposed online friend replied shortly after, his eyes full of malice. "And your little show today makes me think you want to know me too." He added in a low tone, licking his lips before smashing them on yours, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth just to hear your whines and protests. Then it hit you. The camera, the virus, the questions. He had watched you, he knew where you worked, where you lived and studied, everything. You had told him after all.

The hacker thought you looked so adorable right now, figuring things out, helpless, confused, regretful and most of all, weak. You were so weak and careless, and he loved you for it. It reminded him of himself before life screwed him over.

You wouldn't be in this position, underneath him, if you had just told someone about your laptop virus and the bad guy you had encountered online. But Saeran couldn't say he wasn't glad your self-preservation instincts were so very broken and dysfunctional. He wouldn't meet you otherwise. "I need you, princess. That's why I'll take you to Paradise." These were the final words you heard before you felt lightheaded and sleepy again, your last memory a pair of green mint eyes.

You really shouldn't have trusted strangers on the internet.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere mystic messenger #yandere saeran #yandere oneshot #yandere saeran choi #yandere unkown #yancore #male yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you #yandere hacker

1K notes · View notes

kth1 · 3 years

Text

South Side [JHS]

South Side [Hoseok x Reader] ⟶ Credit: @kimtaehyunq ⟶ Genre: Smut | 21+ | Strangers to Lovers | One Shot ⟶ Warnings: pwp, gangmember!hoseok, badboy!hoseok, fuckboy!hoseok?, dom!hoseok, use of alcohol, smoking, brief exhibitionist, degrading - like a lot, fingering, blowjob, gagging, small titty play, condom sex, rough sex, self-masturbation, ass spanking, mirror sex, etc ⟶ WC: 10.2k+ ⟶ Summary: You’re too curious about the alluring, dangerous bad boy down in the south side that you find yourself revisiting the same dingy dive bar more than once. Who knew what was going to happen when you step foot into the scorpions nest? ⟶ Beta: @ppersonna thank you so f-ing much, lindy, for taking a nice stroll through this fic before release. i really enjoy your feedback, help, and support each and everytime! another shoutout to @xjoonchildx bc ana also took time out of her day to read through this fic before posting. leaving even more lovely, thirsty, comments which made me feel utterly happy. :) ⟶ Teaser: “You’re so turned on by the lewd scenery bestowed upon you that you can barely focus on anything besides how he feels inside of you. All of him.” ⟶ Author’s note: For Hobi Day / Jung Hoseok’s Birthday 2021! This fic idea randomly came up in my head, two days before his birthday. And I committed. Here we are lads.

He’s exactly where you expect him to be.

Lean, thin yet sturdy, body covered by a stark shield of several black articles of clothing against the wall closest to the pool table. Matching an unsurprisingly similar appearance inside this southside dive bar are the two other men of his small clique. One left and one right hand man.

You recognize them as most people do, especially with the type of reputation they have going for them. Some would say they’re outlaws, the one-percenters that you surely don’t want to get mixed up with. Even in a clique of three, they have proven themselves on multiple occasions that each of them are most definitely top dog in their department – or whatever you want to call their posse which shares business enterprises in a criminal behavior.

The stereotypical bad boy.

It’s sad at the way you feel your heart paces inside your chest, it’s not through nerves but more through excitement. Something about him has you riled up every time you catch a glance. Whether it’s the way he holds himself, walking around like he has complete control of the world around him, or just his overall appeal – his appearance. Always wearing that slick leather jacket embroidered with a flashy logo on the back of the shoulders, patches of random accessories sewn into the collar and sleeves. His hair, dark and loose, always seems as worn out from the countless times his fingers must run through it, delicate strands fall freely across his forehead and barely cover the slit in his eyebrow. A cigarette snug between his lips as he dangles a glass of scotch between his fingers while watching his members work around the billiard table.

And why are you – someone who has no interest in things like drugs, weapons, or theft – resting your elbows against the bar across the way, twirling the straw inside your low maintenance Screwdriver? There’s a simple solution to this question, really.

Ever since the first day you stepped foot inside this hazardous dive bar, your mind couldn’t and wouldn’t stop thinking about this mysterious male who easily catches your breath. Lindy, your loveable yet questionably devious friend, forced your hand one night to bar hopping down the strip. The event itself lasted many hours; you were sure by bar number five you’d call it quits. Until bar number six came out of nowhere, flying down the street in a sketchy uber driver’s backseat alongside a handful of your trusted friends – close to being fully intoxicated at that point.

Bar six, the very same bar you stand in currently, sobers your mind up real quick at the way a few dozen eyes scan over your group after entering the establishment. Only one deadly set of eyes has your body frozen, a stare that dared you to misbehave in the dirtiest ways. A gaze that makes you question each and every one of your actions before you attempt to do them. The entire night you were absolutely positive that those eyes remained glued onto your body, your claim mostly being proven correct from the way your eyes met his more than you want to admit.

There isn’t someone like this man, not one you’ve met, yet. A crazy aura of icy coldness surrounds him, a demeanor you cannot shake off like the ashes of his cigarette. His face is strong, oval, and his cheekbones sculpted perfectly on each side. A handsome man, nonetheless, and you curse yourself entirely at the way his looks alone flares your insides.

There’s no question who he is, an exact name hasn’t come across your research just yet, but you knew he belongs to the city’s largest gang. Naturally something about him calls you in, has you wanting more even though all of your other senses know he embodies the definition of a red flag.

You can’t help that curiosity of yours though.

For a couple of slow-paced weeks you aimlessly find yourself scouting out this bar, whether you’re driving past looking for the noticeable motorcycles parked outside or even daring yourself to walk in yourself. However, not all times were successful. A few times you were led with disappointment while drowning down those feelings with a thick liquor.

Tonight is a lucky night, the man your mind won’t give up on now relaxes off near the back of the building, head nodding to the beat of the grunge music playing overhead. The section he’s in is busy, filled with bodies of similar fashion and matching symbols decorating some form of clothing.

You take another swig of your mix of orange juice and vodka, texting Lindy your whereabouts and trying to convince the big-hearted woman to come join you after her night shift. There’s a swell to your heart where she responds with a concerning message, hoping for you to stay safe and urges for you to be somewhere else – especially not anywhere in the Southside, alone.

But you’re stubborn and already two glasses down in your early night, how can you just move on now? Not to mention that your position is hindered down in your bar stool by the possible chance you may exchange more than just eye glances tonight.

Another offer for a third drink from the bartender has you stalling your response, questioning if you should actually take on another right now. You have no choice in the matter though, not after the body squeezing themselves between your seat and the one next to you tells the mixologist to grab two of what you are having and request it to be a double.

Your head twists up at the side profile of a heart-shaped face, jaw rounded to a point. His button up shirt looks thin and spotted with a monochromatic animal pattern, his pants are tight, shiny, with a chain hooked onto his leather belt. You spy a fresh buzzed undercut below a dark mop of loose hair, protruding cheekbones and soft puffy lips. Though by first glance his features seem kind and warm, you’re taken aback at the sharp triangular shape of his dark eyes when he turns to leer down at you. There’s a strong gravity to the weight of his stare, speculating your appearance. If you weren’t so distracted by the hoop earrings dangling from each of his lobes you would have felt the full force of the heaviness he lays onto you.

“You’re not from around these parts,” he comments with a gruff voice.

You sit up straighter in your seat as you recognize him, perched elbows coming off of the bar and resting at your sides while your hands toy with the paper of a napkin. You shake your head at the accusation, confirming the males suspicion and observation. He notes the way you’re dressed, adding more affirming more facts as the mixed fruity drink is placed before the two of you.

His hand comes to settle on the back of your stool, using it as leverage to cage you in on one side. He nearly snorts at the glass before tipping his head back and downs it’s entire contents into his throat. “Oranges aren’t as great as tangerines,” he mutters before locking his eyes back with yours. “Vodka isn’t as great as whiskey.”

Your mind buffers for a moment, more confused as to why one of those right-hand men are leaning against the bar beside you, shrinking you down with his impeccable stare. He gives you an expectant look, clearly waiting for you to respond back to anything he places your way. Which shifts your mind to the fact that, yes, you have yet to say a single word – voice a single sound the moment this man stepped in your vicinity.

“I don’t mind the vodka. It’s a simple and quick drink to make,” you shrug in your seat. You glance around him briefly to check your surroundings, to remain cautious for any reason.

His eyebrow ticks up with curiosity, something about the way you speak leads him to believe there is more to your closed answer than you’re admitting. The glass before you slides closer to your spot by his hand, a not-so-subtle hint that he wants you to enjoy it. You eye the inked tattoo that peeks out from under his long sleeve, a rigid scorpion tail etched up around his wrist. A trademark, signature, tattoo which all members of the gang must have on their skin. “So tell me, why do you keep coming here?”

You pause the moment the rim of the glass touches the edge of your lip. Blinking, you feel even more smaller in your seat from the way this man is holding himself. In the few short minutes you’ve known him you can already tell he’s blunt, quick to the point, and doesn’t handle phony excuses.

There’s an unamused expression across his face as you shift in your seat, especially at the way you question him back with a “What?”

“Listen Doll,” he smirks with a point of his finger. “Do I look blind by any means?”

“N-No –“

“ – and do you think for one second I’m over here questioning you about why you keep coming to this bar because I’m genuinely curious?”

Now you’re ‘genuinely’ confused! Why on Earth would he even be speaking to you then? How come he’s questioning you now, clearly after noticing that you have been here more than once?

Before your hand comes down to place the beverage back on its coaster the man places his hand in the way to prevent you from doing so. He stares at you, giving you a pointed nod. “Drink it. Your drinks are going on his tab.” Quickly, the man snaps his fingers toward the bartender, giving him some formatted signal. Just as fast as he calls upon the worker, he’s swiftly leaning his body over the bar to grab himself a handle of whiskey from the underside.

You’re looking at him with wide eyes, not understanding the privilege he possesses to do such a thing but you notice not one person bats an eye at the action beside you. The drink in your hand remains full, even when the man requests for you to stand up from your place. Dissatisfied by your insubordination he sighs while twisting the screw cap off his bottle. He points over to the crowded billiard tables, through the sheens of red and yellow ambient lights, “Over there. He’s interested.”

Your eyes follow the invisible line from the tip of this stranger’s finger to a man – the man – you’ve been very intrigued by. There he stands slack, feet crossed, against the grungy brick colored wall. His almond shaped eyes bore into yours from a distance, intimidation radiating off of him like heat from a furnace. His expression remains clouded, taking long drags from the cigarette hanging between his lips. He gives a nod before blowing out a puff of smoke, misting over his face from your view.

“Now come.”

You hear the words to your right, the right-hand man steps with a wave of his hand to usher you over to the busy scene. “Best not to leave him waiting,” he hints with a mischievous tone.

Silently, you gather yourself and your purse before stepping along the pathway that opens up for you. There is an impulse you cannot fight as you walk yourself straight up to the mysterious man, passing through bodies of people you have no interest in being near beside his. He takes one swig of his iced scotch, knocking off the last remains of the liquid before placing the rough glass against a random platform. Coming from the hidden nape of his neck and up to the back of his ear has the ink of a scorpion tail, the sharp point colored in red.

Your delicate fingers tighten slightly around the base of your drink, staring curiously at the beauty of the man before you. He’s even more gorgeous up close and just as equally deadly. It feels like something sparks in the pit of your stomach as you notice the way his chocolate eyes flicker over to the man who brought you over and back to you.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” His voice makes your heart sing. It’s clear and calm, deep and loud at the same time. He tilts his head slightly, eyes analyzing at the suspicious tint that dresses the apple of your cheeks.

Your mouth begins to open, only to be interrupted by the raspy voice of the whiskey lover, “Good luck cracking that one open. Doesn’t enjoy responding back when addressed.” The man smirks to himself as he moves between the pool tables, finding a seat near the far end. “Quick and simple,” he mocks as he tips his head back, lips secure around the tip of his bottle.

A frown forms on your face, anger pricking under your skin, and with hast you blurt out with a hint of attitude. “Y/n,” you’re stern as you glare over at the other. He minds you no more recognition, by now you’re positive he only has spoken with you because of –

“Y/n, is it?” His voice draws you back in, regaining your attention. He hums deep within his chest, lifting his eyebrows momentarily. Another inhale of his cigarette, he blows out to the side, away from you out of courtesy. “That’s a lovely name, sweetheart.” He smiles, a slow confident smile, flashing you a beautiful array of teeth. “Don’t worry about Yoongi, he’s a lot of bark.”

“And no bite?” You attempt to continue the sentence with a bit of humor, but it backfires on you.

“A lot of bite.”

Your mind races at the severity of the man, even with such smooth features he is proving to you that his interior is a whole other type of man. There’s a moment of fear that does cross your mind, not only about the other man but also the fact that you stand in the den of, what seems to be, a group festivity of one of the cities most renowned gangs.

He sees the hesitation in your once determined eyes, so he levels with you. Leaning down, invading your personal bubble more than you anticipated, his face sinks closer to yours to create a more private space. “Hoseok.” He removes the tube of tobacco between his lips, flicking the stick above the nearest ashtray. You can smell it from his clothes along with hints of a musky, intoxicating fragrance that reminds you of the middle of a forest.

“Hey Hobi, who do we have here?” A strange, new voice resounds with a slur from behind you, an arm swinging up to grip around your shoulders. You jump, scrunching closer to the wall, nearly spilling a small portion of your glass in the haste. Being around such a crowd surely has you feeling on edge. The deepest voice of the night comes close to your ear, a smile so obviously present sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. “Looks fun.”

Your eyes quickly flick back to Hoseok who’s face that just showed hints of amusement and curiosity now drastically drops to a dark glower, looking angrily at whoever is currently touching you. It’s scary, but you find yourself turned on by the dominating power behind just his look. He radiates such energy, it has you feeling some sort of way.

The man who continues to grip around your shoulder giggles along with himself, clearly to the point of being too tipsy for his own good. Too oblivious to the fact that he’s crossing over Hoseok’s line to even notice the shift in the air.

Hoseok only stares until his patience runs thin, cycling through all possibilities before acting out. “Taehyung,” he speaks through gritted teeth. Without a stutter he continues, “I don’t want to but I will break your wrist if you don’t remove yourself.”

You feel your heart thump in your chest, the air stalling in your lungs as you witness the seriousness in Hoseok’s eyes. The death stare he gives towards Taehyung, the other of his right-hand men, is by no means a joke. Nerves inside your body spike, sending signals to release adrenaline into your system. These are gang members you remind yourself. By the way this Taehyung fella removes his arm the second the threat reaches his ears just shows you how in-control Hoseok actually is.

“Go back to Mags before she gives you a bloody nose for having your hands on another woman,” Hoseok warns again. “You know she’s a fierce fighter.”

Taehyung, as quick as he came is as fast as he goes. You feel whiplash at the small series of events, now you’re back to being face to face with the man you hold solemnly responsible for why you’re even at this dive bar in the first place. You can’t help but stare back at Hoseok with wonder, the way he turns his attitude back to a smug interested one makes you curious.

“So Y/n,” he drawls out. “Why don’t you take a moment to enjoy your drink and tell me why you keep coming to my bar.”

His bar…

Hoseok’s lips upturn to a cocky grin, waiting for you to reply as his finger taps at the bottom of your glass. He narrows his eyes, almost challengingly, asserting his need for an answer.

Finally, you take the hint that this drink will never vanish unless you rid it yourself, so you tip your head back slightly to sip on the juicy concoction. It’s thicker in liquor than your previous ones, whatever ‘double’ you received tastes like a quadruple. How did that Yoongi guy guzzle this down with no problem and here you are, scrunching up your nose with distaste.

With a smack of your lips after swallowing down the tainted fruity flavor, you look Hoseok square in the eyes as you reply. “I like it here.” You’re not lying, really. Looking past the dubious characters floating around the area, this establishment isn’t all that bad. The alcohol is great, it does its job. The aesthetic may be dingy however it still appeals to that look it’s going for. Bar food is decent, the music is alright, and practically everything –

You hear a snort which distracts you from your thoughts. A look of pure hilarity dresses Hoseok’s face before he busts out laughing at you.

“Oh, you’re good. That’s a good one.” His shoulders shake with his chuckles, shaking his head with disbelief. He grips two bottles between his fingers off a tray from a passing barmaid that walks the floor, taking your glass from you and placing it on top before the worker walks away.

He hands you one as he takes a drink of his own, topping off the taste with a satisfying ‘ah’ before leaning himself back against the wall. He looks listlessly out into the crowd, cool eyes scanning the environment.

“Come here,” he gestures with two fingers as he looks away from you.

Strangely, you obey. You’re curious after all. Taking that one closer step in his proximity, closer to his body sending a surge of excitement through you. You can’t help but to admire in awe at his side profile. His nose curvature is near perfect to your personal likeness. It slopes smoothly all the way to the tip, nearly poreless with clear skin. A small yet noticeable freckle stands out on the edge of his cupid’s bow, it’s prominent and unique.

The brown irises of his eyes look over at you through the side, almost looking as if he is irked and doubting.

“I’m going to give you one more shot, sweetheart. Why are you in my bar?” His hand comes in contact with your forearm, pulling you lightly toward him. Once near, he takes that very same hand and sneaks it around your waist to pull you against his side. You suck in your breath from the movement, side pressed straight against his and you feel every thread of your being vibrating with being so close to him.

“I meant what I said,” you speak boldly, proud even.

His eyes darken when he twists his head to look at you, daring you to continue. “And?”

You swallow at that, preoccupied with the condensation on the outside of the glass bottle acts as a perfectly lame excuse to keep your mouth quiet and mind distracted.

“I honestly enjoy coming here. This place is cool. I’ve come here with friends multiple times!”

“And you’ve come here without them as well. Like tonight.”

“The drinks –“

“ – are expensive for how shitty they make them.”

You blink back the interruption. Quick to respond with another excuse, “The people –“

“ – aren’t the type of people you fit in with.”

Hoseok smirks as you struggle from his scrutiny. No matter what way you try to defend your statement, he’s always there to retort back. Throwing it in your face and laughing at your feeble attempts. He grows bored of your charade and you dislike the way he wears a cocky look.

The heat from his body is radiating against you and his scent lingers in your nose. His mouth comes close to the shell of your ear, his breath fans out when he whispers low, throaty words.

“A prissy girl like you is trying to find an edge in the bad side of town, aren’t you? Something that knocks your socks off?” He quirks an eyebrow as he waits your impending answer.

“I’m not.” You cross your arms defensively. You refuse to look back at him, refuse to give him the satisfaction of whichever suspicions he has drawn in his mind.

“Aren’t you though?” He speaks low, swiping his tongue between his beautifully formed lips. His eyes drop down from the side of your face to your neck, then the string of your spaghetti-strap silk top. There’s no shame in the way he examines the peeking flesh on your chest, favoring how they squeeze from the way your arms overlap another in front of you.

“No,” you lie straight through your teeth. Your voice sounds weaker than you want it to and your resolve deteriorates under Hoseok’s piercing gaze. “I’m here to have a good time,” you snap your head up, severely underestimating the distance his face is to yours. Inches separate the two of you, his eyes look right into yours.

You know that he’s right. He knows that he’s right. Hoseok can read you from miles away; what type of girl you really are and sees pass this façade you pretend to be. His gaze is electrifying, sparking excitement and anticipation in your body. The classic bad boy vibe every story tells you to stay clear of, yet you stand hip to hip and staring the cliché in the face.

Hoseok is staring at you with an intense expression, zoning in on your entire existence.

“Do you want to fuck?”

He’s so nonchalant about it, but there’s a serious undertone in his voice. Your jaw drops as you register the fact that he isn’t messing around with you and asking you straightforwardly. It’s astonishing, not once in your life has someone ever came that clean, or bold, about a request like this. There’s a strong confidence to his aura, asking you seems so effortless for him and you find yourself sputtering in spot.

With your mind blanking on any rebuttal to his question you find yourself nodding your head, willingly, without any doubt. He’s so close already, body warm against you and alcohol infused breath dancing on your skin. His dark eyes entice you; his full lips invite you.

“Speak,” his hand grips around your jaw, slightly pushing his fingers against the hollow of your cheeks to pry your mouth open.

“Yes,” you breath out.

A devious smile forms on his mouth and he huffs out his nose.

“Tell me… You keep coming here because of me? I see the way those eyes of yours look when you see me. Bet you’ve tried undressing me in that little head of yours,” he leans in purposely to tease you as his nose bumps into yours. “Bet I can make you into a cockslut.”

Your body naturally twists to face him, leaning further to close the tantalizing gap between the two of you. However, Hoseok has other plans and he tilts away with a self-satisfied look. You frown, upset at the maneuver as he shifts your position in front of him as he remains against the wall. Both his hands latch onto your hips, one still holding tight to his beer bottle as he stations you still before him and hooking his index fingers between your belt loops.

His exposed neck looks thick as he rests it back, his Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow. Hoseok’s jaw slacks with a cocky grin, “Touch yourself, sweetheart” he urges. His voice is deep, husky, and already makes your core tighten at the command.

“What? Here?” You glance around nervously, both sides of you are filled up with people mingling with another. “T-There’s people all around us,” you try to reason with the man but he only just tugs on your jeans to emphasize his demand.

“Fuckin’ prissy little girls,” he snidely speaks.

“I’m not prissy!”

“Prove it to me. Not one person will watch you besides me, they know better.”

It’s irritating at the way Hoseok crawls under your skin in such little time, already knowing which buttons to press just to get something out of you. He’s positive and assertive, egging you on to comply with him. Submit yourself to his rules.

You inhale deeply, narrowing your eyes at his challenging leer. Your palm travels to the button of your pleather jeans, fiddling with the hemline before sliding your slender fingers down your front.

Midway to the destination you seek, Hoseok chimes in with another order. “Finish that bottle while you toy with yourself.”

You’re determined, mind set to demonstrate to a member of the city’s largest gang how un-prude you truly are. With a pointed glare you take your first swig of the beer, it’s sour and untasteful – you prefer ciders anyways. But to prove to this man you’re not who he thinks you are, you’re ready to do just about anything. Your fingers gingerly continue their way, shoving your hand completely inside the front of your pants.

They skim the outskirts of your lips, applying soft tender touches to your sensitive skin around your panty line. You push back the nervous thoughts bubbling inside of you from stressing your mind at fully enjoying the pleasure you’re self-inflicting. Hoseok’s eyes crinkle at the corners, entertained at the fiery spirit.

You smile, mocking innocence when you continue to down the bottle in your palm. The fingers gliding over your nether regions find their way above your clit, continuously moving them across your slit to rev up your senses. Your deft ministrations force a blush to your cheeks, you’re actually enjoying the predicament before you.

“That’s good, sweetheart,” he compliments while watching the angle of your wrist rotate. He tugs you forward between his legs to cage you into him. “Stick them in that pussy, don’t tease yourself.”

Involuntarily, your pussy clenches with the mixture of his gravelly voice and the thought of something shoving up inside of you. You can feel the slippery substance of your cunt leaking already, enough to coat your finger. You bring the rim of the bottle to your mouth once again, tilting back to guzzle as much down before sinking your finger into your cunt. It glides smoothly and you feel yourself tightening around just the single digit.

A heavy breath escapes your nose at the insertion, you try to maintain your composure under Hoseok’s interrogating stare but fail miserably when you whimper out a whine at the curl of your finger. He licks his lips at the sound, clearly content with your performance.

“Feel good, sweetheart?”

You hum, raising your eyebrows with obviousness. Hoseok takes the bottle from your palm before you could finish the rest, “Slide another one up in that cunt for me.”

You obey without thought, moving yourself forward the moment your walls flutter around two fingers. Your free hand braces itself on Hoseok’s leather shoulder, leaning closer into him. He nods before finishing the bottle for himself, but instead of swallowing the liquid he holds it inside his mouth.

The bottle drops below the two of you, making little to no sound with the current noise roaring around from the speakers and chitter-chatter. Hoseok takes your face in his hand, tilts it to face him so he can connect his lips to yours. He’s still for a second until you feel his lips slowly part, a cool liquid runs against the seam of your mouth, bidding for you to open as well.

It feels too intimate being fed alcohol like this, from a dangerous stranger, nonetheless. Such a weird encounter, you never expected to find yourself in the grips of a scorpion member tonight. You were only interested, initially, in the man whose powerful stare has your knees weak.

But you can’t help the swooning feeling you get once his lips make contact with yours, how stern and warm they are. It causes you to thrust further into yourself, another juicy whine escaping through your nose. He hears it, loud and clear, and it only fuels him more.

His hands travel to your backside, rubbing into the round of your ass. Hoseok smiles as you swallow, giving him freedom to dip his tongue into your mouth to taste you. He pulls back with a tug of your bottom lip, grinning at how easily wrecked you already look.

“Look at yourself. A prissy lil whore all up on me,” he chides with humor.

“I don’t see you complaining about it,” you emphasize with another smooth thrust of your fingers. This time leaning your hips into his, evidently pressing yourself against his stiffening dick. “Feels like you like it.”

You catch him off guard for a moment, your counter argument striking him as a brave move. Oh, he knows he’ll have fun with you now. A cautious little girl who listens obediently to him and has a bit of fight to her. You light a spark inside him, giving him the a-okay to step this up to the next level.

“Looks like you enjoy showing everyone who you belong to tonight,” his voice cuts through you, sending shivers down your spine. He leans over to one ear, licking up the outer curve with the tip of his tongue before his voice growls. “I see a few people eyeing you. A dirty slut touching herself, god. How desperate are you?”

It doesn’t matter to you anymore. You knew the risk you took when traveling down south, fingers knuckle deep. So what if people see you now, you only care for his eyes only. There’s a deep urge to prove yourself to this man you hardly know, but everything in your body already screams for him. You want him.

“Bring me somewhere private,” you plead. His neck tattoo stands out, making you curious about placing your lips against it. Your attempt fails when Hoseok insists on moving away at the last second, placing his beer off to the side and tugging on your arm to remove them from the front of your pants.

“Follow me, sweetheart.” Hoseok steps aside, not even giving you a guiding hand. He trudges between bodies and you’re aimlessly following the scorpion deeper into the den. You pass the sharp-cut eyes of Yoongi who judges you with his near empty bottle of whisky and a light between his lips. The other man, Taehyung, is pressing up a colored red-haired woman with dark roots and several facial piercings against a booth. His face nuzzled between the crook of her neck and hands disappearing beneath her shirt. She wears a face of pure bliss, bottom lip snug between her teeth – and it occurs to you how seconds ago you were acting in a similar fashion as they are.

You bob between the bodies to catch up with Hoseok’s strides, keeping your eyes on the back of his head as he disappears behind a beaded curtain. You chase him down the same path, holding your belongings close to your person. Pushing past the beads you seek the possible route he walked down, something in your heart tells you to swing left and down the steps. More secure, further away from the activities and farther into the cave.

The dirty brick wall leads you past several doors and graffiti designs until you step in front of an open on. Hoseok sits there, on a haggard couch in the middle of a strange room, head cocked to the side as he eyes you. Dark curtains cover sections of the walls, a small bar taking up residency in the corner. A lengthy mirror, portions of it cracked, takes up about four feet of wall from top to bottom. You can still hear music thumping in the distance, the bass still booming through the walls of the private room. It looks like a grimy area where his type would definitely spend their time in.

You stand dumbfounded until his hand gestures you in, his voice commands you to shut the door. He’s quick to shrug off his jacket, tossing it off to the side with no care and revealing to you more black ink littering his arms.

Words “hope” and “fiat Lux” stand out first, calligraphed around shaded skulls. His outer arm has a bolder font etched into his skin, “luctor et emergo” it reads while webs and barbed wire intertwine with it. Hoseok snaps each and every one of his knuckles, using his hand to help crack his neck as well. He looks just as menacing as before, if not… even more now.

His eyes that once bore into yours now stare at you under his lashes, dark lust swirling inside his irises.

“Hurry it up,” he snaps his fingers. “So hungry for me that you followed me all the way back here to get railed, yeah? Remove your clothes.”

He begins emptying out his pockets, taking a light for himself while watching you stand there idly.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet on me now, sweetheart.” He takes a slow drag, inhaling the cancerous fumes before releasing it into the air. An expectant look comes across his face and you’re already dropping your purse down to the floor with hurry.

First is your top, the flimsy silk lifting over your head and thrown to the side. Your pants become unbuttoned quick, tugging the fly down and in one motion you drag it down your thighs and pass your knees. The cool air hits you, a wash of goosebumps dance wake on your skin, and you cautiously stare back at the man on the couch.

Hoseok’s face remains impassive, unreadable and you find yourself squirming under his gaze.

“You’re dirty enough to finger fuck yourself in front of me, are you bad enough to suck my fat cock in the back of a busy bar?” He winks, amusement lifting in his eyes. “You followed me, desperate slut. I have you wrapped around my finger and you don’t even know who I am,” he chuckled darkly. “You’ll do anything for my dick, yeah? Come here and take it in your mouth.”

His instructions come with threat, you can feel the messages in between the lines if you refuse to comply. You’re quick to land your knees on the shag carpet, eager to wrap your fingers around the waistband of his pants. Your palm runs firmly over his crotch to feel the bulge underneath. It has you thrilled, wired up.

The moment you unfasten his pants you waste no time tugging them all the way down along with his briefs. Releasing the mouth-watering scene of his rigid, thick cock and strong thighs. Your pussy throbs with anticipating stomach tightening. God it’s beautiful. Smooth, leaking pink tip. A tall and girthy shaft that allows a couple stray veins run its entirety. It looks so heavy, your imagination running wild at the thought of how he will feel dragging him across your tongue and down to the back of your throat.

He looks down with a sense of pride, he knows he’s fucking gifted with one of the best-looking cocks you have ever seen. It’s written all over your face. You have no time to feel shy about the way your eyes boggle over it or the way your palm slinks around its base. With the way Hoseok stares at you through hooded eyes, you feel all the more need to continue this expedition.

Your fist twists around his cock, rubbing up his length and back down in a slow languid pace. You’re testing it, feeling it all before completely losing yourself to it.

“Yeah, keep it up. Get it ready for that mouth of yours,” he urges you. It only causes you to quicken your strokes, the praise fueling that libido inside of you. Hoseok catches your face before you could lean down, he tugs you closer to what looks like a kiss – but instead he blows a slow breath of fresh smoke into your lips.

“I want you to gag on it,” he looks through his lashes, challenging you.

You nod, weak already at his husky voice, and soon you find yourself released from his grip and your mouth peppering sweet kisses against his stiff dick. You taste the mixture of him and the results of a long taxing day, the most palatable part being the precum drooling out of his cockhead. You slurp it, no care of how loud it sounds before descending on his cock. The flat of your tongue spends a delicious amount of time wrapping around his shaft, tasting all of him. He weighs so heavy on your tongue, and for one moment of this entire night you felt in control thanks to the way his pupils begin to dilate and his breathing growing harsher.

“Your lips feel good wrapped around my fat cock,” he grunts with a sigh. The praise runs down to your core, pussy clenching over nothing. Without warning, a hand comes gripping the back of your head, taut at the roots of your hair. He guides you slowly, stripping you completely from that control you momentarily had. Each bob of your head is crafted with his power.

His hips meet up into your mouth as he applies more pressure to your head, shoving you further onto his cock. You sputter around him, throat contracting at the sudden probing of his cockhead. You cough around him, eyes screwed shut with a groan.

“God, just like that sweetheart. Take this all the way to the back of your throat. Get messy for me. Fuckin’ love those sounds your mouth makes.” He repeats his action before you can recover, the girth of his cock forces your mouth to hollow out and threaten to squeeze down your trachea.

Again, you cough, gagging over his dick as your throat continued to accommodate the size of him. He eases you more, small thrusts up into your mouth until your mouth allows him to sink deeper. Hoseok is grunting above you, cigarette snug between his lips as both hands now pilot your head.

There’s something about the way he’s making you do things you never sought out to do before, how it has you going crazy – and for what? You’re utterly hypnotized by this man’s alluring aura. His confidence oozes out of his like sweet, nectar. His power floods your senses, rendering you tongue-tied and feverish.

“Fuck,” he mutters as you begin to swallow him the way he intended you to do. His breath comes out in heavy pants through his nostrils, grip tightening around your hair. Hoseok groans loud, head finally tilting back to rest on the back of the couch as he basks himself as you gulp down his length. “So good at taking my cock like the hungry whore you are,” he murmurs between his teeth.

He pops you off of him, finally a well-earned breath of fresh air fills up your lungs. Drool coats around your lips and down your chin, most importantly it’s all over his twitching cock that slaps against his lower abdomen. Loose tears broke the brim of your eyes, blurring your vision before you blink them away. Your hair is still in a rough grip of Hoseok’s palm, but you’re able to admire the column of his neck while he tilts it back. It invites you, begs you, to put your lips and tongue on it.

Hoseok picks the stick between his mouth and burns it against the worn-out fabric of the couch cushion.

“Pick yourself up off the ground, fetch me my wallet.”

You bend down near his discarded belongings, finding a chained wallet full of loose papers and god knows what else. Hoseok regains his composure, taking in deep breathes. In a brisk motion he rids his shirt from his torso. He still wants you to prove yourself.

He has a toned body, lean but muscular in all the right places. Defined abdomen and a sturdy torso.

“Front pocket, not hard to miss, sweetheart. Take out the foil and get on with it.”

You unwrap the wrapper after plucking it from the billfold, quickly stepping over to Hoseok’s awaiting cock. You didn’t need the next command, already knowing to drag the rubber over the tip of his cock and ensuring it wraps around the entire appendage like a glove.

His forehead is spotted with perspiration, face tinted red from either the loads of alcohol he’s consumed or the heat of his body. Hoseok’s eyes remain dark with lust, stormy clouds hidden inside of them. You keen at the thought, already kneeling yourself on either side of his thighs – that is until his hands grip your waist roughly.

“You won’t be needing these,” he rips the fabric of your panties, the tear loud against the barren walls. He refuses to let you lower yourself, instead he finds your slit with two fingers and purposely runs them up it.

“So fuckin’ wet. I haven’t even touched you and you’ve completely drenched yourself with the thoughts of me. You’re so easy, sweetheart.” He plunges two fingers into your cunt, sliding with ease from your earlier playtime and massive amount of slippery substance.

Your mouth drops in awe, a shuttered moan coming out clear as day. He thrusts into you fast, listening to the sounds of your pussy squelching.

“What a slutty little bitch you are. This pussy’s craving me.”

“Jesus fuck, Hoseok!” You anchor your hands to the back of the sofa, tilting your hips at the thrashing speed of his hand. Deep in your stomach you feel the tightening of a coil, adrenaline pumping through your veins. There’s no timidness with the way you express your feelings; cursing, moaning, and wailing at your impending orgasm.

But it’s not enough for you.

You fight against his strength to lower yourself, even attempt to remove one of his hands. It results in him swatting you away with annoyance, taking your jaw between his fingers and removing the ones from your cunt.

“Greedy slut,” he seethes. The hand covered in your pussy juices rounds it’s way to the swell of your ass with a harsh slap. It jolts you thought Hoseok holds you firm in place. “You wanna see how fuckin’ pathetic you look, aching over my touch? Come here,”

He meets you abruptly with his mouth, clashing both tongue and teeth against yours. You love it, the taste and smell of the bad boy. And god he is right, you’re such a slut for him it’s almost unfair. So much that regardless of fighting dominance with the wet muscles of your mouths, you are already reaching down to his dick to fist him again.

Hoseok hisses at that, pulling back his face and a flash of rage takes over his features. Swiftly he twists you in your place, facing you forward and granting you another smack to your ass.

“Look forward, look at yourself through the mirror. Look how fucked out you already look and your pussy hasn’t even tasted my cock yet.”

You kneel, straddled above his lap in your reflection. Eyes wide, legs spread, chest heaving. Hoseok leans up, unhinging the clasp to your bra and allowing it to fall off your shoulders. His face comes peeking from the side, glaring through the mirror to you as his hands cup around each of your breasts. His deft fingertips roll your nipples between them, pinching at the flesh and all you can do is watch – to feel it happen. His voice is low and throaty, he speaks into your skin and pressed his lips to your side.

“Yeah, you’re a dirty little whore for me aren’t you?”

“Fuck yes,” you moan out, arching your hips back toward him. “Please put it in me.”

“Nah, you’re going to fuck yourself on me instead.” His hands slide back to your hips, fingertips pressed into your skin as he lowers you. “Work for it, sweetheart.”

He helps aim his tip between your folds, sliding it back and forth to gather more of your slick. You sit down, easing against his thick cock to feel every painful inch of the stretch. His breaths were coming out short, shallow gasps and yours matched just the same. Your walls flutter as they take him in, you curse under your breath once you sit flat on his lap.

“Shit,” you choke back, beginning to rock your hips against him. You use his knees as purchase, giving you an angle to work with as you stare forward at your reflection. You roll into him with determination, grazing his cockhead over your sensitive spots as you slide his entire length in and out of you.

“There ya go, sweetheart. Watch how you’re fucking yourself on me like that. Exposing yourself like that,” Hoseok coos, hand sneaking to your front to run his fingers against your clit. “Enjoy watching my cock disappear inside of you?”

Your walls tighten at the sensation of him playing with your bud, you can feel the ridges of his shaft sliding inside of your pumping pussy. There is no control with the way you nod with a gaping mouth, moaning loudly for any and all to hear – even your body is quivering from it all.

You’re so turned on by the lewd scenery bestowed upon you that you can barely focus on anything besides how he feels inside of you. All of him.

“God, what a cute prissy whore. You love my cock, don’t you?”

His hoarse words make your insides turn. Hoseok continues to curl a hand around one of your tits, kneading the flesh between his fingers while his other hand works rough circles into your clit.

“Yes,” you moan with bliss. “Your cock feels…” your pace quickens at the burning ache inside of you, tingling a sensation that has you blinding running to the edge. You pant out, thighs burning from each of your bounces, “Feels so good. Stretching me – fuck, Hoseok.”

Hoseok’s hot mouth plants wet kisses across your back and up your spine, “Fuck me harder, slut.”

Immediately you oblige, arching your back as much as possible and pressing your ass into the seat of his lap. His cock drives so smoothly into the deepest spots of your core, kissing your cervix. You know you’re coming close to your end, clenching your walls firmly around his spearing cock. He can tell too, so he speeds up his circles on your clit and matches his thrusts into yours.

“You wanna fuckin’ cum, sweetheart? Show me how that pussy sucks me in so well? Show me how much of a cockslut you’ve become?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant like a mantra. A massive wash of your release courses through you like a tidal wave, making your body spasm over him as he uses all his strength to hold you on top of him. Your clenching holds his cock like a vice, clamping down as he fucks you through your climax.

Your high-pitched moans sing to Hoseok’s ears, nearly knocking him off the edge yet he fights that temptation. He pulls out fast, standing both you and him up in the middle of the haste. Hand fast on your clit, he walks you closer to the mirror. You try to stand on your tippy toes, barely keeping your legs from wobbling but Hoseok’s hands keep you upright so you can view your ecstasy-fucked out face.

“Fucking whore,” he drawls out the syllables. You can’t help but only moan back a reply, hands coming forward to plant against the cool glass of the mirror. Instant heat conducts on the surface and your handprints leave impressions on the cracks.

He smirks, eyeing the way your chest puffs up with each breath. “Your tits are amazing,” his hand cuffs around your pussy. “Your little cunt is soaking wet. I want to keep pounding into it. You have enough in you for that, yeah?”

Your pussy throbs so irrationally that your thighs already begin to squeeze another, needing release. The idea makes you shake in desire.

“Fuck me more,” you beg, pushing back into him with emphasis. You’re already readying yourself up against the wall, bending down to spread yourself wide for him.

His rugged voice meets your ear, a smile evident with the words that come out. “As much as I’d love to fuck your cock hungry cunt like this, I prefer to rail you over the couch because you’ll lose feeling in your legs.”

He whisks you away from the wall, shuffling you close to the edge of the couch’s arm. His words send a delicious promise, already eager to feel what he can do. Hoseok doesn’t wait for you to prep yourself, pushing down on your back so you can bend to the angle he needs. You support yourself with your hands into the worn-out cushions, ass perked up for his view.

The feeling of his large dick, hot and heavy, re-stretching you out has you moaning instantly. He doesn’t go slow; he pounds fast straight into your battered cunt. He thrusts hard, letting out a loud groan at the sensation.

“God you’re tight after already being fucked.” Hoseok swears, nails sinking into your hips, “Aren’t you a dirty little cockslut now, getting fucked like this,” he growls with a slap to your ass. “Told you I’d make you into one.”

He spears into you deeply, submerging his entire length into your fluttering velvet walls and slapping his skin against yours. Your legs sway from the aftershocks and the constant blows of Hoseok’s harsh thrusts. Soon you lose balance, knocking your knees into the side of the couch and sliding down to rest over the arm completely, face buried into the stained seating. You gasps out moans, hands gripping onto anything to hold you in place.

Hoseok doesn’t fret, he smiles through it all. Eyes glued to the rippling effect of your ass every time he snaps his hips into you. “So dirty for me.” Thoughts of how many other people fucking on this same sofa seized to exist in your mind – it only matters that you are getting fucked straight into this couch.

“Yes Hoseok,” you groan loud. “F-fuck, your cock feels amazing.”

He grunts at your words, slapping your ass again for good measure. “Look so hot at this angle. Everything on display for me. Keep making those noises, let everyone know how good you’re getting fucked back here.”

Your hands cautiously reach back to his thighs, nails threatening to break skin from the painful, yet blissful, pleasure surging through your body. He’s quick to grip each of your wrists without missing a beat of his strokes, securely fastening them together with one hand against the small of your back.

“Let me hear you,” he growls with a hard snap.

You moan out, ass tilting further up. There’s drool slowly leaking out of your mouth at the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. His dick is making you feel disorientated, delirious. There’s a quiet sob that leaves your mouth at another strike of his hand to the flesh of your ass. It’s unsuspecting but your body is vibrating with pleasure because of it.

“You’re such a cockslut right now, god I can feel you wrapping around me. Look at all of this dribbling out of you.” Hoseok slows his pace, scoops up a wad of your cream, leaning up to place it before your mouth.

It’s stringy and off-white, the scent hits you immediately, and your stomach tightens as he feeds it to you. Eagerly, your tongue lavishes around his digits, sucking your cum right off of him.

Hoseok grinds himself into you, the drag of his thick cock has you pulsating at the core. You greedily sucked his fingers to keep them in your mouth, begging to taste him some more. The pads of his digits press down onto your tongue, forcing your jaw to unhinge and release those feverish moans he wants to hear.

“You watching yourself again, sweetheart?” He catches your line of sight in the reflection of the mirror that stands across from the couch. “Ah, no you aren’t,” he chuckles darkly. His cock slides all the way out of your cunt and rests just at the entrance. “You’re watching me, huh?”

Hoseok gyrates himself straight back into you, flush against your ass and you moan so pathetically. You stare at the way his shoulders tighten from his grip, his collarbones standing out with the lighting of the room. Your face scrunches and cries slip out of your mouth. “Ah!” you exasperate, nails ripping into the sofa.

“Like what you see?” he’s smug, eyebrows wiggling. “Are you getting off at the sight of me?”

Both you and he feel your cunt tighten, approving his accusation and giving him the signal to completely obliterate you. His pace is fast, ravaging your body whichever way he desires.

“Fuck, Hoseok,” you stammer desperately, eyes fluttering. A tingling sensation creeps up in the pit of your stomach, urgency for your next climax at stake. You’re leaning as far into his ruthless thrusts as you possibly can, shaking legs going weak. “I’m – I’m cumming,” you shout.

It’s intense, vision blurry from the tears that form. You’re biting into the dingy cushion below you as you whine. He doesn’t let up, ramming you through the entire course of your orgasm regardless of your pussy tightening around him. He’s huffing behind you, slamming himself into you with full force and desperate to reach his high.

He loves the way you wiggle and writhe under him, the nonstop cries are taken as pleas for him to bust his load.

“G-god, you’re so f-fucking tight,” he growls with a particular sharp thrust. He stills, flush against your ass as he twitches inside of you and fills up the rubber around his cock. Hoseok groans a throaty, dirty, groan into the air and you swear it’s the most filthy sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

You lay still over the edge of the couch, trembling from the aftermath. Hoseok pulls out of you slowly, groaning loud at the loss. He’s tying a knot around the open end of the condom before you know it, walking over to a random bin near the bar-end of the room. You spy another random tattoo on the back of his calve but can’t quite recognize it, leaving you more curious if anything.

This is without a doubt the best lay of your life, the hottest fuck of your entire existence. Hoseok has been dominating you all before even touching you, ever since the first time you locked eyes with him. Together you use one another, nearly animalistic but completely worth it.

He turns back around, limp dick still on show but looking just as delectable as ever. Already gathering up the loose articles of clothing on the ground, he’s redressing himself like he has somewhere to go. As if sensing your stare he glances over to your laying body, exactly how he left it. His eyes rake you from head to toe, an intense expression behind them.

“Come on now, get up,” he whistles at you, raising an eyebrow in your direction.

There’s confusion flooding your mind as you push yourself off the couch. Your legs feel like jelly, jiggling as you walk over to your discarded clothes and hurriedly slunk them back on your body. Your cunt still aches from him, from the way his face remains impassive as he watches you.

Hoseok leans against the wall closest to the door, arms cross and eyes scrutinizing your every step. He already has another cigarette lit, inhaling the nasty tobacco product slowly.

You fear walking near him; however your purse remains flat on the floor near him. You hold your breath, taking the necessary steps toward him and bending down to grab your last belonging. As you raise your head you’re met with his cold stare, eyes unwavering.

“I don’t want to see your face in my bar again.” His voice is low, crisp and cuts right through you.

Your brows furrow, “What, why?”

“Shits not a fuckin’ playground around here. This joint is literally owned by the largest gang in the city. Every single cent spent in here goes to funding and supporting the Scorpions,” he huffs at your negligence. “No cockslut from the upper side belongs in a nest of us.”

Hoseok opens the door, walking out without a second glance your way. You speedily walk after him, wobbly knees and all, gripping the leather fabric of his arm to stop him.

“I’m not the only person from the upper side that waltzes in this shitty dive bar,” you bark back. The moment those words left your lips has you rejecting them just as fast.

“Shitty, is it?” He smirks, shaking your grip as he turns. Hoseok pins you up against the brick wall, feet away from the beaded curtain that leads to the busy den. “So shitty, yet earlier you were going on how you like it here.” Hoseok leers down at you, hands blocking you in. “What makes it shitty, because I don’t want your kind taking up space in my bar?”

You level his stare, feeling weak but you hold your resolve. “I didn’t mean it like that –“

“And what did you mean, sweetheart? Hm? You think I fucked you to keep you?” He snorts.

The moment he goes to walk away your hands are gripping onto his jacket once again. He’s laughing now, astonished at your lack of fear. “Hoseok wait. It’s not like that.”

“I mean it, Y/n.” His eyes flicker back between yours, a fire blazing behind them. “Don’t come back here. It’s for your own good.”

“Give me your phone,” you order, refusing to let go of him.

Hoseok leans down, grinning when he levels his face with yours. “Does my little cockslut want me to call her when I get bored?” He watches as a pink dusting creeps up on the rounds of your cheeks. There’s a spiteful anger boiling inside of you and he can read it like no tomorrow. “What’s the matter, you had no problems with me calling you that just minutes ago. Hell, you still have some drool left on your chin.”

Your hand comes up to quickly wipe away anything – you feel nothing. Hoseok snickers, shaking his head as he takes your wrists in his palms. He raises your arms against the wall, his lean body leans firm against yours. Chest to chest, hip to hip. Face mere inches from yours and he’s taunting you. “You already want my fat cock again, god you’re a hungry bitch.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with wanting what I want,” you stare boldly back into his icy brown eyes. “I’ll promise not to come back if you give me your phone.”

Hoseok takes up your bargain, whipping out his cell from his back pocket and handing it over. He waits for you to finish placing your digits under his contacts, even giving him the courtesy of listing your name and the nickname ‘cockslut’. You return his phone, secretly hoping it works in your favor.

“Go on now,” he cocks his head to the doorway, “get outta here.”

You walk past Hoseok through the beaded curtain, not looking back because you know it’ll prove to him how desperate you are. The bodies shifted around the billiard tables, some stare at you and others paid you no mind. You try your hardest to look unphased, look like you weren’t just fucked into oblivion in the back of this grimy dive bar.

Hoseok watches your disappearing body from the back, appearing into the den moments after you walk through. He grabs the nearest drink one of the barmaids left out on the table, tipping his head back to shoot whichever dark liquor rested inside the glass. He doesn’t bother looking at his phone, placing it back in his pocket.

A puff of smoke blows out of his nostrils, clouding his face momentarily. He never stops watching the back of your head. From the moment you walk away from him to the turn toward the exit of the establishment, his eyes were burning into you.

You feel them every second of the way.

#bangtansorciere #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #magicshopnet #btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jhope smut #kimtaehyunq #south side #jhope x reader

1K notes · View notes

darling-i-read-it · 3 years

Text

Peace

Karl Heisenberg x reader, Ethan Winters and the other Lords x platonic!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR RE8!!, insinuations to smut, talks about having children

Author’s Note: this is so wacky and i just now finished it. Its just for fun and an excuse to write domestic resident evil 8 characters. I had a blast doing it. Also it was loosely influenced by @/nerdymixedpan on tiktok who makes this kind of AU stuff! Highly recommend their tiktoks

Summary: An AU where Ethan didn’t kill any of the Lords and was convinced to stay, leave Mia (the crazy chick who tried to kill him and also worked for a sketchy company prior to that) and raise Rose with the Lords and the reader.

Genre: fluff

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

You were walking around Dimitrescu castle, as you often did. You hopped between places when you could. You always went to sleep at the Heisenberg factory but you did get along well with the other Lords and liked to pay them a visit when you could.

It was actually Cassandra who asked for your presence. You had heard of course that the village was being attacked but you didn’t mind too much about that at the moment. Cassandra wanted you over at the castle, to try and talk some sense into Ethan Winters.

You had heard of Ethan at that point, of course. Everyone had. The father of the infamous Rose. But you didn’t think you would get to meet him.

So you came over there and knocked on Alcinas bedroom door. She swung it open, gazing down at you. She was no longer surprised when she came over and usually was quite pleased to have someone to talk to. Rarely did she speak to people outside her daughters and Mother Miranda and she had a responsibility to those people. She didn’t have a responsibility to you.

“What brings you along here? We’re a bit busy. I assume you’ve heard Ethan WInters has escaped Heisenbergs grasp.” You let out a huff of air and nodded.

“Yes, he was not pleased when he came back home. Cassandra called, said I should try and talk to him.”

“Cassandra wants him murdered.”

“Maybe she has some sympathy because of the baby,” you suggested. You gestured to the large castle. “Any idea where I can find him?” She shook her head, exasperated.

“If I had any idea, don’t you think I would have gone to find him already?” You nodded stiffly.

“I will look for him myself then. If you find a short person not in robes, double check to make sure it’s not me before you claw them,” you told her. She gave you a small smirk before you turned around and started back down the stairs.

You had free reign of the castle and had learned its insides and outs at this point. On occasion the girls asked you to stay over and hang out for a little while longer so you had slept there as well.

You started to check a couple of the rooms, walking around haphazardly. It was when you came to a room on the main floor that you found the Duke. He sat there and raised his eyebrows at the sight of you.

“You aren’t Ethan Winters,” he said.

“Ah so you’ve seen him. Care to point me in the right direction?” Duke shrugged a bit.

“He’ll be here eventually if you care to wait.” You let out a sigh. You could go searching but it was a sure bet that he will return to this spot. You pulled up a chair from the table there.

“Alright then. You selling any good food?”

=====

Ethan came running into the room as you were enjoying a nice dish. You stood up quickly, putting your dish down on the table. He had his gun up but dropped it at the sight of you.

“Are you a villager? Do you need help getting out?” he asked, clearly out of breath. You scoffed and shook your head.

“No, no. I’m here to talk to you Ethan.” He was still clearly frazzled. You grabbed your dish and held it up to him. “Care for some food?” you asked, hopefully as a peacemaker. He looked between you and the food and saw that you at least looked human.

He put his gun in his holster and took the food from you.

“Alright. What do you want to talk to me about?” he asked, sitting down at the table. “Who are you anyway?”

“This is Karl Heisenberg's pet,” said the Duke. You scoffed.

“Shush up, you’re not helping.” You sat beside Ethan. “Ethan, I know where Rose is.”

“You know where Rose is?! Where is she?!”

“Shush, let me finish.” You cleared your throat. “This whole thing, all of it, is about Mother Miranda. She took the place of Mia to try and take Rose away. She believes Rose will be a good vessel. Ethan, Lady Dimitrescu, Karl, none of the Lords are your enemy. It’s just Mother Miranda.”

“Well it looks like everyone is trying to kill me.” You shook your head.

“If you helped them kill Mother Miranda, they will let you keep Rose. In fact, I have it on good authority that most of them would love to help take care of her.” Ethan stared at you for a minute and leaned back. He had some food on his chin. You handed him a napkin and he took it gratefully. “And Ethan...Mia told Mother Miranda that you...you’re not exactly human.”

His eyes went wide.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re mold Ethan.” He was silent for a very long time. Everything raced through his head. Why would he want to stay here? Granted the castle was nice...and these people did know how to save Rose...it would protect him from anything else Chris had planned that he didn’t know about.

And apparently, Mia had been keeping this secret for God knows how long.

It all seemed like too much for him.

“Take a second to take that in. I don’t want to rush you but I have to talk to the daughters about it.”

“You swear they’ll help me with Rose?”

“No one wants her to die, Ethan. We want Mother Miranda gone.” He leaned back in his chair.

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m human. I’m not mold, I’m not an experiment. Just human. If I could live a happy life here, why can’t you and Rose?”

That made sense. If anything made sense, that did. Ethan took a deep breath.

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

======

Some Time After The Death of Mother Miranda

“Have you seen Rose? She’s getting bigger everyday.” Karl was speaking when he walked into your room. You were sitting on the bed, flipping through a book. You looked up at him, a teasing smile on your face.

“What, now that you’ve killed Mother Miranda you’ve moved on to caring about the village baby?” you questioned, putting your hand in your palm. He gave you a look but you ignored him.

“You act as though you don’t want a baby every time you see her,” he commented. You scoffed.

“And it always ends up being pretty pleasurable for you doesn’t it?” You grabbed his hand and pushed him down on the bed so that he was sitting on the edge. You wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“You’re damn right.” He brought your hand up to kiss it. “Ethan’s going to Moreaus today, to swim around with Rose. He invited you,” Karl said. You raised an eyebrow.

“Did he invite me or do you want a nice night again?” He kissed your hand again and then kissed your wrist.

“You won’t know until you get there.”

“Fair point my love, fair point.” You kissed his cheek and got up. “I have lunch with Donna but I’ll try and catch up with Ethan afterwards. I may make it, I may not.” You slid off the bed. “Guess you’ll just have to wait to find out.”

He wanted to get up and drag you back but you were already walking out the door.

====

Ethan was by the water, holding Rose in his lap. She was truly getting bigger every day. Moreau was standing beside them, dry now. Ethan’s hair was damp. They must have just gotten done swimming.

“Good of you to join us,” Ethan said as you walked over.

“Salvatore, Ethan…” You leaned over Ethan to look Rose in the eyes. “Little Rosey. How was swimming you guys? Sorry it took so long, I was with Donna and lunch went overtime.” You sat down beside them.

“Rose was perfect,” Moreau said. “She’s a quick learner!” You nodded, looking over at her. You brought your finger up to her and she latched onto it.

“I believe it,” you said. Ethan locked eyes with you.

“I wanted you to come because I heard that Chris was trying to get into the factory.” You raised an eyebrow. You wrapped your arms around your knees and leaned against them.

“He’s still trying to get in here? I thought once Miranda was killed he would leave us alone.” Ethan shook his head.

“Apparently he wants Rose because she’s an asset now,” he muttered but he was looking down at his daughter who was reaching up to his face. He sighed. “She’s getting hungry.”

“You should probably take her back to the castle then.” That was where Ethan usually slept with her. He figured it would be easiest to keep Rose safe with four vampires around at all time that adored her.

“Yes my sister will be wondering where you are,” Moreau said. You nodded in agreement.

“I’ll tell Karl about Chris although I don’t think he’ll get past the Lycans. Then he has to worry about the machines that Karl makes and those are a hassle too. Not the brightest, but a hassle,” you admitted, standing. “I’ll walk you back.” Ethan nodded. You turned to Moreau. “I’ll see you later as well. Try to catch up on the TV show we were watching, I don’t wanna miss anything.”

“I will, of course!” he exclaimed. You smiled and then turned back to walk with Ethan and Rose back up to the Castle. You got into the boat.

“Can you hold her while I steer?” Ethan asked. You nodded and took Rose from him, cradling her in your arms. She was looking around, ever the well behaved child. Ethan started the boat and then you were off.

There was a few minutes of silence as he started to catch his bearings and you played with Rose. You and Ethan had grown close over the weeks he had lived there. He rarely knew peace and didn’t trust it that much but you always assured him that it would be alright.

“I was thinking of maybe starting to rebuild the village,” you said, looking up at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“By yourself?” You scoffed.

“No, obviously not. I’d get the help of everyone. Donna and Angie already wanna pitch in and I figure I could guilt trip Karl into helping, with his whole telepathy thing. I think it could be a fun project. Plus if you accidentally lose a hand you can put it right back on.”

He nudged you, laughing.

“I don’t think it’s a bad plan but who will live there?”

“Us maybe. Separate housing of course but it could be a home away from the Lords. And any villagers left stragglers around.”

“I don’t think there are any left,” he told you.

“Well have you checked?” He was silent. “Exactly. Rose may want a place for herself one day, who knows.” You looked back down at her. She was reaching up to play with your ear.

“She’ll need friends her own age one day,” he said, solemnly.

“We’ll see to that when it comes.” He looked back at you.

“Have you and Heisenberg ever talked about kids?” he teased. You laughed.

“We have our hands full with Rose and the thousands of metal children he makes on the daily,” you admitted. You glanced down at Rose again. “But maybe one day. He seems to be hinting at it and I don’t know...maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”

Ethan glanced back at you and then quickly looked away. You looked happy, curious, wondering.

“If it’s any help...I’m glad I had her. Even if she got me into this whole mess,” he said laughing a bit. You smiled up at him as he pulled into the dock.

“You want a little Heisenberg running around?” Ethan scoffed.

“I wouldn’t mind a little you. Rose could have a friend.” He got out of the boat and you handed him Rose. You got out as well.

“We’ll see. Karl may be banking on it.” You both started to walk back into town. At the castle entrance you had to part.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, if your legs still work.” You gasped, shoving him.

“You have a mouth on you Ethan Winters for living in a house with four other grown women,” you said. He laughed and went into the gate without saying anything else.

The walk back to the factory was a pleasant one. The sun was setting and the breeze was nice. Not too hot, not too cold.

You made it back to Karl in record timing. He wasn’t in the room so you went looking for him. He was in one of the work rooms, leaning over one of his new inventions. You walked up behind him and leaned over the head of the machinery.

“Hey there kitten! Back up, it might come alive at any second,” he muttered, moving you back. You nodded, stepping away from the table. He turned off his recording and turned around to look at you.

“Well how was swimming with Moreau?”

“And Rose and Ethan. I caught the tail end. She had fun though. You’re right, she is growing everyday.”

“I take it by you referencing our earlier conversation you remember how it ended.”

“I’m not doing it if this machine will come alive half way through and kill us.” Karl scoffed and took your hand.

“Up to the bedroom it is kitten!” You scoffed but let him drag you along, giggling the whole way up.

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg imagines #resident evil 8 imagines #resident evil village imagines #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #alcina dimitrescu #ethan winters

768 notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 3 years

Note

I don’t have a specific request but I just really want to read another Little Moments blurb. Wether they’re teens or babies, I just love them. Have a great day!!

you have a great day toooo!! ok we can definitely do this!! there’s so many adventures they go on that i want to write about, but for now i hope you enjoy this blurb of the family going out for a pub meal;

oli - 21, felix - 19, belle - 16

It was family-night-Friday.

Well, actually, it was yours and Harry’s anniversary and supposedly date night, but your children had decided you’d all go out for the evening to celebrate instead. Whilst you were delighted over the idea of spending the night with your family, Harry wasn’t. He now, quote-on-quote, ‘can’t finger you under the restaurant table’, which is why he’s now in a sulk.

Chuffing man-child.

“Dad, can you at least pretend to look happy to be with your family?” Belle teased Harry, as you were all in the car on the way to the pub you were booked in for.

Harry was driving and Oli was sat in the front, since his legs were extremely long - a bit like his dad - to fit in the back. Unfortunately Felix got the short straw and had to sit in the back with you and Belle, Belle sitting in the middle as she was the smallest. Whenever you came to a red light Harry’s hand would slink behind his seat and dangle itself until you caught it with your hand and gave it a squeeze. It was the little moments like these that made you grateful for your family. For Harry.

Harry smiled and you knew it was real, because it reached his eyes, however he made it seem like it wasn’t real to antagonise his kids.

“Y’can pay for your own bloody meal at this rate.” Oli spoke, looking up from where he was messing around on his phone - probably looking at todays football scores.

“When did you become such a dad?” Felix laughed, scruffing with his brothers hair from where he was sat behind him.

“Dickhead.” Oli tried to reach out and smack his brother but Harry beat him to it and caught his sons fist.

“Oi, pack it in the both of you.” Harry pretended to be mad, but in reality he loved his children interacting with each other - even if they were play fighting.

You loved your little family. So much.

The rest of the journey was spent listening to whatever was on the radio. Belle had requested Capital FM, however much Harry would rather listen to BBC Radio 2. You heard Harry sing along to a couple of songs though, one being Niall’s new song ‘Our Song’. The journey was quiet but peaceful, allowing you and your thoughts to spend 10 minutes or so alone. The word passed by outside as you drove down some pretty sketchy country lanes, until you rounded the familiar corner that had ‘The Cherry Tree’ situated on the left-hand side. It didn’t take long for Harry to pull in and park up, making sure he didn’t leave any valuable on display.

You climbed out of the car and waited for Belle to shuffle out herself, before shutting the door behind her. It was still a bloody Range Rover…

“Y’alright my love?” Harry asked you, locking the car and sliding his hand into yours to hold. His familiar warmth made you smile and your goosebumps melt away.

Your children walked off ahead, talking about goodness knows what with each other. It was funny to see how small Belle was next to her brothers. She, like you, was smaller than the men in her life and also smaller than you. She walked sandwiched between her brothers as they walked inside the restaurant.

“Never been better.” You answered truthfully, cuddling yourself into his side more. He was more than happy to accept you there.

Harry opened the door for you and you walked in after you. He kept a hand on your lower back as you walked to where your children were standing waiting for a waiter.

The room was large and really atmospheric. Lots of chatter from belly laughing customers and tiny toddlers who were on the loose. You spotted people lining up for a carvery and there was a separate area where a pizza oven burned away. As soon as you saw the meat and the roasts though, you knew that’s exactly what you wanted. And with a glass of red wine - divinity.

“Nice and warm in here.” You stated, having been quite cold outside. You spotted a wood burning fire in the corner and guessed that’s where the room got it’s hear from.

“Y’cold m’love?” Harry asked, furrowed brows over you and your health.

“Was. Better now.” You answered.

“It’s ‘cause we live in bloody England.” Felix huffed, stuffing his phone into his back pocket.

“Then move countries, please.” Oli answered in a playful tone, earning a light punch to his side from his brother.

“Idiots.” Belle rolled her eyes at the both of them.

“This is why you’re my favourite chid.” Harry answered jokingly, but everyone knew he secretly meant it. He often spent more time with his Belle and would treat her with a teensy tiny bit more love than his boys, but they were okay with that.

“Charming dad.” Oli added, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Someone’s been working out recently.” Harry pressed a finger onto Oli’s buff arm. He was visibly flexing, but he still did have a decent amount of built up muscle on him.

“Bro, not cool. We said we’d work out together.” Felix groaned, knowing he was slightly skinnier than Oli and the tabloids made sure to point it out. It didn’t phase him publicly, but you knew it did internally.

“Can work out with me, if you want?” You questioned Felix, already knowing the answer.

“No thanks mum. I don’t want to go to pilates or hot yoga with a bunch of mums.” He rolled his eyes, but earned a slap to the back of his head from his dad.

“Y’pest, be nice to y’mum.”

“It’s actually mixed gender for the hot yoga.”

“Well now you can say bye-bye to that class, missus.” Harry teased you, tightening his hold on your back. When Harry got jealous he got jealous - like pettily jealous. It was something you’d both worked on during the years together, but sometimes it did creep up. Like now.

“I’m not quitting that class, H. You can come with me if y’so bothered that other men and women might be staring at m’arse.”

“Y’bloody well bet i’m coming.” He told you, making you chuckle. He leant down and gave you a kiss to your lips, welcoming it with a needy kiss back since he rarely gave you lip kisses in public. This was pub in the middle of nowhere, so Harry felt safe to give you some loving.

“Ugh could you, like, not?” Felix groaned and his siblings followed. Harry pulled away with annoyance, a smile on your lips though.

“Y’should be happy I love y’mum.”

“I am, just not publicly.” Felix turned his nose up at the memory of his parents kissing.

“Leave us alone, it’s our anniversary.” You pouted.

“Like dad needs that excuse.” Belle snorted and rolled her eyes, making everyone but Harry laugh.

“You don’t need an excuse to love me, H.” You whispered to him and he leaned down to you with a smile.

“I know.” He kissed your forehead this time and brought you closer into his side as his kids were laughing with each other still.

“Where the fuck is the waited i’m bloody starving.” Oli grumbled, patting his belly lightly, clearly annoyed at the waiting of the staff here.

“Um, can I help you?” The shy waiter was bright red in the face from hearing Oli’s comment, making the rest of you snicker.

It was the little moments like these that made you appreciate your life and your little, happy, family.

192 notes · View notes

lepusrufus · 3 years

Note

I would sell my soul for your HCs about all the daughters and their maidens if possible, be they fluffy or sin

No need nonnie for I happen to be easily persuaded to ramble (and I also happen to have three maidens in mind for them):

Bela: not technically a maid in her case. Her mother wanted to do some garden remodeling at the castle and asked Donna to borrow one of her gardeners. Donna is happy to help and sends this gal working under her. Project takes a while so Bela has time to get to know her and even learn a couple plant husbandry tricks. They bond over their shared love for plants and Bela probably gets her ass out of trouble with the garden zombies a couple times. It's also a bit of a breath of fresh air to not spend time with someone terrified of you since the gal is a guest at the castle, covered in mud 80% of the time but a guest none the less, and even the vamp fam is quite friendly towards her.

Cassandra: she gets our beloved unhinged maiden™ bc let's be honest you need a couple loose screws to survive her. She comes to the castle voluntarily after getting away from a nasty situation and is just... downright unbothered. Which makes Cassandra lose her marbles at first and she makes it her goal to creep her out. But as this goes on Cass finds herself enjoying the maiden's company more and more and they probably bond over identifying skulls. She also has some slightly questionable morals which catches our beloved sadist's attention (which is a nice way to say Cassandra is turned on by a maiden that can properly stab someone). Cue them becoming the menace duo.

Daniela: we already know how that one goes. Poor maiden gets assigned to cleaning the library while the redhead so happens to be there reading. She catches Dani's eyes who just gets an insta-crush on the poor gal and from that day she keeps bugging her. The girl is really sweet and kind tho which catches Dani by surprise because I literally came in covered in blood to creep you out why on earth are you asking me if I'm hurt. Her maid is just... the voice of reason between them. Did she stop the redhead from letting a lynx loose in Cassandra's bedroom for revenge? Most likely. Shes also freaky in bed apparently.

Uhhhh I don't want to reveal too much about them story-wise bc I may write some daughters x maidens fics so hhh spoilers. But I mean y'all can definitely ask abt their personalities and such if you're curious

Lil' bonus: sketchy sketch i did of Cassie's menace to society maiden:

#bela dimitrescu x maiden #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #daniela dimitrescu x maiden #dimitrescu daughters #asks #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

206 notes · View notes

astronartists-writes · 3 years

Note

Helloooo:)

May i request a Twice reaction to their Fem! s.o being protective of them?(like in a healthy way, not possessive)

Have a good day:3

a/n: i was so excited when you sent me this because it was super early that i got this from when i posted everything else.

hope this turned out okay!

Masterlist

TWICE with a protective s/o

TW: mentions of sasaengs, mentioned worries about toxicity

CW: none! :)

fem!reader, race unspecified :)

Park Jihyo

when you first showed her your protectiveness, she was a little worried that you might end up being overbearing

but as time went by, and you were super chill about her living her own life, she realized that you weren’t someone she should be concerned about.

you were perceptive to her feelings, so the second she seemed uncomfortable, you would shoot a nasty glare at whatever was making her feel so

usually it was sasaengs

sometimes it was her stage outfits

the glare was always the first warning

if the glare didn’t work on people, you’d wrap an arm around her as a second warning.

if those warnings didn’t work, you’d start responding in place of Jihyo, your tone flat and dismissive

she thought it was hilarious

it eased any anxiety she might feel

because The Glare can’t really work on an outfit,

you would usually offer her your jacket, or would carry a small blanket around to cover her legs with while she sits

you always made sure to ask if she wanted your jacket or the blanket, giving her a choice of rejection

she’s an independent adult, and you treated her as such

you’ve got her back, and she feels safe when you’re around.

Im Nayeon

i feel like nayeon would be protective of her s/o as well,

so you being protective wouldn’t faze her.

it’s just natural

you always asked her if she was feeling uncomfortable with something, and did everything you could to help her fix it if she was

you could honestly be her personal security guard, you were that effective.

you once practically threw a bitch that was getting a little too close, and she was scared at the time, but laughed a lot when the video surfaced

all of twice’s stage outfits are kind of ridiculous sometimes, and you often complained about the discomfort of not only nayeon, but the other members as well

you knew how uncomfortable clothing that showed a lot of skin could be — especially short skirts,

so you empathized, even going to managers to ask if it was really necessary for the members to wear certain things

she felt very loved when you showed her your protectiveness, and always made sure to make you feel loved, too

Yoo Jeongyeon

personally feeling very protective of jeongyeon right now, hope she’s feeling lots better

so you make sure to give her plenty of space, asking questions once, and not pressuring her for an answer if she couldn’t give you one.

you treated her the way you treated everyone else,

only really being protective of the way people spoke to and/or about her

if you felt something was uncalled for, you immediately told the person who said it off,

sometimes you ordered them to apologize,

sometimes you told them calmly that what they said wasn’t very nice, and gave them a disapproving stare

tbh, not many instances happened where you had to tell them off,

so you tried to express your care for her in other ways

like making her food, getting her tea, sharing your clothes

jeongyeon would tell you clearly if you were to cross a boundary, and you would immediately make sure to never cross it again in order to avoid being possessive

she felt comfortable with you

you never once made her feel bad for not liking something, or not wanting something to be done,

so she was able to openly communicate with you with little to no fears

Hirai Momo

momo liked the two of you doing your own thing for the most part

being independent together was nice

she liked being able to depend on each other for things as well, though

like emotional support, and someone to always have her back

one of her favorite things was seeing you get protective

it usually happened at the smaller things, not the bigger things because you couldn’t be around for many of the big things

like if a bee or a wasp got too close to her, you were right there to move her out of the way

if you saw her shoelace untied, you’d get down and tie it for her so she wouldn’t trip

if you saw someone look at her in a way you didn’t like, you would put an arm around her out of the need to make sure they didn’t try anything harmful

she wasn’t helpless, but it felt nice to show her she could rely on you if she needed to.

Minatozaki Sana

because of her cuteness, you often felt very protective of her

however, we all know that sana is not innocent

she’s an adult, y’know

anyway

at first, she was a little irritated at how protective you could be

you were far more obvious about it than subtle

after a while, she got used to it, and thought about how you didn’t question her choices

you didn’t even try to control her

she liked it a lot

you liked to latch onto her arm in public when there were a lot of people, and she enjoyed holding your waist, poking you in the side every once in a while to get a cute little giggle out of you

the display of protection she liked the most was you tugging down a skirt if you thought it was riding up too much

she liked that you didn’t want anyone to even see the safety shorts, especially when you explained that you just didn’t want her to feel embarrassed if someone posted pictures online

usually when you did something protective, you tried to make it playful.

every once in a while, you’d poke her butt when you pulled her dress down

Myoui Mina

you weren’t protective of her too often because she’s not a very social person,

but you took every opportunity you could

mostly on days she was on stage or doing other activities and you were with her

she stayed home the rest of the time, and while she used to be mostly alone, having you around was something much appreciated

because you were mostly in the safety of your own home, you usually were protective about comments on the internet

she would look through them for things she could improve on — some people left some pretty good constructive criticism

but there would always be hate comments

it’s something to expect from being in the industry

not everyone is going to like you, and the people who don’t can be very cruel

she had learned to mostly not take comments about her personally,

but if you happened to glance at what she was doing out of curiosity and found a comment you didn’t like,

you’d get a little peeved

you’d tell her that she should mute those comments so she wouldn’t see them anymore

this resulted in a very brief argument, where you quickly apologized for the misunderstanding

and explained that you just didn’t want her to feel bad

she thought about it a little and nodded, thanking you for the concern, but explaining that the comments didn’t really get to her

so you’d shyly request to read them with her, dragging the people that left mean comments through the dirt

it made her laugh

if someone dared to say something about her in front of you, though... all hell would break loose.

your protectiveness in public only occurred when the members were being mobbed

you’d hold her hand to make sure she didn’t get pulled away, shooting glares every which way.

your protectiveness made her laugh in private, and made her feel safe in public

Kim Dahyun

you only really protected dahyun when she was frightened or startled at first

which was quite frequent

but after a while, you found yourself saying you’d go before her in things she was nervous about

and then even in things she wasn’t nervous about

the urge to keep her safe was just really strong at that point

she was never actually bugged about it

she liked having a doting girlfriend to hide behind

she even stepped in a few times when you looked nervous, too, eager to keep you feeling safe

she would not be able to do much for you while at high places, though

so even if you were also scared, you’d just clutch her hand and shakily walk with her across area that seemed sketchy.

she gave you a kiss every time you stopped,

and that motivated you enough to keep going

after the hell of high places, she wouldn’t let go of you, trying to show you just how grateful she was by praising you and comforting you

you didn’t feel so scared at the end of it, though

she was grateful for your protectiveness, and was just as protective of you

Son Chaeyoung

she is tiny, so it would be easier to lose her in a crowd than others

she’s responsible enough to not get lost, but you liked to hold her hand just in case

our chaengie is playful,

and so sometimes she’s a little bit too focused on messing around with you to notice potential danger

like a car coming down the narrow road

so you’d tug her out of the way, continuing your conversation without another thought

she usually payed a lot of attention to her surroundings, so the fact that she didn’t realize there was a car was surprising.

you didn’t mention it because you were just keeping her safe, but she was very flustered

if the weather suddenly got colder than expected, you always had a hoodie and a jacket on you

as soon as you saw her shivering,

you’d shed your jacket and hoodie, handing the hoodie to her wordlessly before putting your jacket back on.

you didn’t want her to get sick

she never gave that hoodie back, but she always brought it with her after that.

when people had you on edge, you wouldn’t leave her side

if they were decidedly too much, you’d hold her hand,

and if you really didn’t like a person, you’d straight up just tug her away from them with you (if they followed, you’d totally bark at them)

Chaeyoung found your protectiveness romantic, and wouldn’t trade it for anything

Chou Tzuyu

Tzuyu can hold her own pretty well

she can be quiet, and intimidating, so you weren’t actually protective in a way that people other than her could see

you stayed next to her when you were together, keeping it normal looking if she seemed endangered by anyone

if she needed to get out of a situation, she’d tap your wrist two times and you would get her out of there by any means.

she wasn’t allowed to be mean because of her job, but you could be as mean as you felt needed

another way you were protective was reporting harmful comments and/or posts to JYP directly

always under an anonymous alias

sometimes the two of you would end up looking through rumors and laughing at the ridiculous ones

like a secret boyfriend

that one you screenshot and sent to Tzuyu, who sent it to the group chat for the TWICE members so you could all scoff at it

when you asked if she felt overwhelmed by anything you did, she denied it

she felt comfortable when she was around you. she found your protectiveness sweet.

274 notes · View notes

atlantis-scribe · 3 years

Note

idk the bit about Rodney being misogynistic bc he got taken advantage of by an older woman feels kinda uncomfy. like it veers too close to a justification for his misogyny. (ik in a real person this wouldn't like excuse his actions but since he's a fictional character it's like kinda trying to paint his worse actions in a more positive light, yk?) and like in real life people don't become misogynist/etc for like. a particular reason like that. seems kinda iffy idk

don't mean that as an attack on you or op or anything, sorry if I came off to harsh or anything! just kinda made me a lil uncomfortable (bc like I have seen similar things with other characters in the past and it always seems a lil sketchy to me)

first of all, you don't have to apologize. I get harsh anons sometimes, and they don't often feel the need to explain themselves lmao. also, I love getting asks like this; they make me all thinky :)

and you're absolutely entitled to your feelings of discomfort! while we're talking about fictional characters (which are vehicles for all the nasty or complicated thoughts & feelings that would get us shunned in polite society), discourse surrounding them still reflect a lot of things outside fandom (i.e. in the 'real' world). there is still that responsibility to be careful with the beliefs and ideas we promote.

having said all that, Rodney McKay is definitely the epitome of a 'problematic fave'. while he is a protagonist in the narrative sense, some of his more obvious flaws can make him a difficult character to like (or in my case, to justify liking heh).

as for the whole backstory headcanon, I can understand why it wouldn't sit well with many people. it does seem a bit shoe-horned and, having seen the same kind of justification for other Favorite White Male Characters' terrible behavior in other fandoms, I can definitely see where you're coming from.

(btw, I can't speak for OP but I'm glad you sent this ask, so at least I'm afforded the opportunity to reclaim my honor explain myself haha)

any kind of abuse should never justify horrible actions or behavior that one has been given a chance to change or rectify. in this case, if Rodney had been a victim of an older, female sexual predator in his youth, then that still doesn't excuse his misogynistic tendencies (and outright sexist comments & actions). it can certainly explain it, though, which is what I find so compelling about the idea.

the thing about Rodney ( & Stargate + all its characters) is that he's very much a product of his time. while today's media still exhibit a lot of backward tropes and tasteless stereotyping, we've started to find more and more artists & creators who are willing to apply nuance and care to their writing / art. though I'm sure pioneer Stargate fans have made their metas and criticism of Rodney already, his flaws as a character are even more easily brought into sharp relief now because he is not the kind of character that ages well.

if you've been following me for quite some time now, you probably have an idea why I like him. it's not the easiest thing to be, a Rodney fan, but I always make it a point to not excuse any of his bad traits. however, it's also no fun if all I do is bend over backwards to justify why I enjoy his character so much, which is why (since his writing is so inconsistent and there are so many gaps to his backstory) fans like OP and I, whenever we're given the opportunity, try to come up with bits of headcanon to tie a few loose ends together.

I certainly won't fight anyone about it, and I'm very much welcome to arguments that would debunk these ideas, but I'm acknowledging it to be a pretty neat concept. do I think real people (or even fictional characters) who are as terrible with women as Rodney is must have been abused by women when they were younger? hell no. does the headcanon make some kind of sense for why he is the way he is (which, again, is more a product of bad writing than any deliberate characterization)? I think it does.

so it's really more, 'if Rodney had been sexually abused by an older woman when he was younger, then that contributed to his misogyny,' and less, "if Rodney is misogynistic, then he must have been sexually abused by an older woman when he was younger'. there's an important difference that (I'm not even gonna euphemize this because it is rampant) so many fans defending their faves often miss.

I love Rodney for all the bits that I love about him, and I try to appropriately handle all the rest that I don't. what I wouldn't give for Rodney to have had better and consistent writing (one that, while not necessarily erased, at least properly addressed his flaws). that's why I like Trinity a lot even though he messed up so much in that episode. it had been an opportunity for growth.

[ tl;dr check second to the last paragraph lol ]

for reference: this is the post anon's talking about.

also tagging @frankthesnek in case she has something to say :)

#sorry anon if this got long #you give me an inch i take a parsec lol #stargate atlantis #rodney mckay #meta #ask #kit things

31 notes · View notes

kintatsujo · 3 years

Text

LoZ AU- The Courage of Running Away Part EIGHT

#AU August

#LoZ AU: The Courage of Running Away

So Link makes it through the desert in the caravan’s care, and as promised, Torock sends him ahead to Gerudo Canyon with his son Taro, to meet the third of Tonbo’s uncles.

[Image Description: Safee and Link are walking next to one another. Safee asks, “So you’re going ahead to see Torock’s brother because your dad’s waiting in Gerudo City?” “Yeah,” Link says. Safee covers her mouth with a hand and snorts, putting one hand on Link’s shoulder. “I hope he has FUN then!” she snickers. Link stares at her in question. The scene switches to show Astramorus penned by two Gerudo women about his own age; the taller of the two is taller than him and the shorter is shorter than him. The taller, looming, grins and asks, “Hey, handsome, can I buy you a Noble Pursuit?” The other snaps, “BACK OFF Birna I saw him FIRST!” Astramorus is responding to this with obvious displeasure. Flowers adorn the background. A narrative box notes: “Astramorus did not have fun.” End ID.]

Those two ladies are named Somara and Birna after the canes from Alttp, yes I can do that, and no they don’t care that Astramorus is a piece of shit because they’re the kind of ladies that hit on unsuspecting guys in the middle of the street. XD

Obviously Gerudo City isn’t quite the same... .uh. All that *waves hands* as Gerudo Town in BotW. (There’s. There’s a lot of middle-eastern specific orientalism going on there I’m not going into in the middle of an AU fic post except to acknowledge it and say that I’m trying to avoid doing it.) This is also because these are AU Gerudo whose gender disparity is 1-99 instead of just. Whatever the fuck nonsense.

But Link doesn’t get to see all that because he’s going to go meet

UNCLE TURBO

[Image description: A Goron standing in front of a sketchy stable with a horse head built on top. The Goron looks like he stepped out of the 80s, with shutter shades, fingerless gloves and a sharp mo-hawk hairstyle. He also has shaggy arms and a tuft of hair on his chest. He is grinning and adjusting his shades with one hand on his side.]

Yes, Tonbo’s uncles are Torik, Torock and Turbo, no, I have no regrets, Uncle Turbo is the fucking best and I laughed for three days after coming up with him. He runs a racing minigame! He’s also where Link is going to get a mount to take him the rest of the way to Hyrule Castle Town.

So Torock leads Taro and Link into the stable, and here is what greets them:

[Image description: A glowing blue unicorn with a white mane. She has large eyes compared to a normal horse, her horn is a thin and delicate looking spiral, and she has a long tail more like that of a very fluffy cat. Taro and Turbo discuss this, Taro with a disbelieving frown and Turbo with a grin. Taro demands, “Uncle Turbo, HOW.” Turbo answers, “Despite ANYTHING your dad may have told you I am QUITE pure of heart.” Taro protests: “But can’t they TELEPORT?” Turbo says, “They can indeed! It’s TUBULAR.” End ID.]

And this was done entirely to pander to my friend @entamewitchlulu but I do actually have a justification for how the unicorn works!

1. The Ancient Bridle and Saddle from BotW allow your horse to teleport to you and also give your horse more stamina, and they’re basically a unicorn costume

2. This unicorn is basically a friendly spirit that I think Turbo got into his stable by being very, VERY good with his animals.

Tonbo’s family is made of Super Swell Dudes, is what I’m saying.

Anyway she can’t teleport with someone on her back but she CAN give Link a ride, and after some mini gaming and bribing with treats he’s basically made friends and Isabel, here, is basically this Link’s Epona.

So Link is on HIS way, let’s see what Astramorus is doing:

[Image description: There is a somewhat diverse crowd, made mostly of Gerudo and Hylians. Through it weave a group of people in somewhat important looking attire, talking to one another as if heard from a distance; Two older Gerudo women, one stockier with darker hair in a ponytail and the other older and more slender with her hair pulled into a half ponytail, a young Gerudo man with a beard and long hair worn more loose, and a person with hair covering half their face in a dark cloak trailing behind. The older woman is smiling and saying, “You don’t need to clear the whole street, dear.” The stockier woman replies with a frown, “I think you’ll find that I DO, Chief.” The older woman asks, “And that achieves enjoying a day at market?” The camera switches to Astramorus watching them from where he stands at a vendor’s booth. The vendor, a round faced woman with an afro ponytail topknot, smiles and says, “Oh, look at that, it’s the PRINCE.” Off panel the stockier woman splutters, “WELL, I--” then switches to “Are you LAUGHING at me, boy?” This brings the focus onto the young man in the group: He has laughing eyes and a gentle smile he’s partly covering with one hand, bright red hair and beard, dark brown skin, golden earrings and diadem, black, gold and white clothing, and the mark of the Triforce of Power on his hand. He says, “Yes, Auntie, I am VERY MUCH laughing at you.” The vendor says, “He’s grown into a FINE youth, hasn’t he?” Astramorus can only stare in horror. End ID.]

Well THAT’S not good!

#my art #loz #loz au #Loz au: the courage of running away #au august #ooooh hooo hoooo

24 notes · View notes

yellowocaballero · 3 years

Text

The Crow’s Funeral AU: Martin Fixes Everything

Stared a long while ago and wrapped up at the request of an anon. This was written because, while I was wrapping up TCF, I thought...’man, if Martin had just been able to find Jon when he woke up, none of this story would have ever happened’. Like, Daisy and Jon enable each other, but Martin just shuts that shit down. No CW that don’t apply to TCF, except maybe for very oblique references to suicide attempts.

A shadow dimmed the reading light, and Jonathan Sims irritably looked up. From his vantage point on the floor, he saw a towering figure above him - a human, somewhat circular, faintly recognizable, looking strongly as if he had run into his own personal nightmare. But no, not quite - there was something far more complicated in that face than fear. Which was a pity. If it wasn’t fear, Jonathan Sims didn’t understand it at all.

“Jon? Christ, Jon, is that you? Jon!”

Ah, Jonathan Sims thought faintly. The man from the cabin.

Maybe he should have ran further.

The man found Jonathan Sims two weeks later, reading a romance novel as he lay on the floor underneath a table.

Upstairs, seized throats choked screams. Library patrons shuddered in the Dark, early victims of a terror just beginning. Some of them would escape, staggering home to their mourning families. Some would stumble home, only to find that their families were unrecognizable to them - or they were unrecognizable to their families. Others would not escape, shivering between stacks for the rest of time.

Jonathan Sims enjoyed the ambiance, and the vast quantity of books. Books were fun. Not that the world wasn’t fun and exciting and always filled with an interesting little drama to stop and watch, but books had things the world didn’t. Like dragons and spaceships and planes. Like happy smiles and...a horse ranch? Heavily muscled cowboys? But the farmer’s daughter would never let herself fall for a wanderin’ man -

“Jon? Christ, Jon, is that you? Jon!”

Ah, Jonathan Sims thought faintly. The man from the cabin.

Maybe he should have ran further.

*****

“I cannot believe you!”

Jonathan Sims - Jon, according to this very infuriated man who was currently clamping Jon’s wrist like a vice - could do nothing but stumble after the man as he was dragged through the village. To be fair, he didn’t mind - this was the first time he had been manhandled in his life, or at least so far that he could remember. Humans didn’t really tend to touch him. They did a lot of talking and crying whenever he met them. To be honest, he had begun assuming that they were interesting conversationalists but altogether somewhat dim-witted. It was interesting to see this contrary example currently chewing his ear off.

Experimentally, he tried to open his Eye and Know who this man was and what Jonathan Sims had personally done to wrong him. But all he received was grating feedback - an infuriatingly familiar roadblock that sprung whenever Jonathan Sims attempted to understand what had brought him to that small cabin in the midst of a storm so severe it turned the sky green.

“First you run off. During the apocalypse, of all things! I spend ages running after you, absolutely unable to find hide or hair of you. Then two weeks later I catch wind of a sketchy guy making a nuisance of himself interrogating everyone in Dunbeath, and I go - great, that’s our Jon for you! What on earth do you have to say for yourself!”

Jon - he was really warming up to this moniker, it rolled off the tongue nicely - tripped over a loose rock, almost sending himself sprawling in a tumble of gangly limbs before he caught himself. “Uh, I’m not -”

“Dunbeath, Jon! You made me walk to Dunbeath in the apocalypse!”

“I’m quite sorry -”

“I don’t want a sorry!” The man released him abruptly, forcing Jon to almost windmill his arms to right himself again, and he whirled on him. But where Jon was expecting a face red with anger, he instead saw an expression crumpled up in pain. Jon realized for the first time that the man was on the verge of tears. “I was so worried, Jon! I thought you were dead, or - or worse, or so much worse. You said you’d stop running. You said that we were a team now, that you’d never leave me behind. But you left. I needed you, I was scared, and you left me. You know I’ve been through hell, and you left…”

Then, horrifically, tragically, he really did start crying.

It was quiet, less gross sobs and more soft hitches of breath, but something about it was unbearably exhausted. It was the tears of a man who had been holding them in for too long, only released because he was too exhausted to keep them inside anymore. It was oddly bestial, and very sad.

It made Jon a little sad, to see the man crying like this.

He remembered something he read in a book, just that morning. One person had been sad, and the other person had...well, the book called it hugging. He thought he might have seen it a few days ago, when an older woman clung desperately to a younger woman who kept on screaming something about beatles. It was the same principle, wasn’t it?

Experimentally, he held his arms out, feeling like a bit of an idiot, and he was rewarded (?) when the man immediately moved closer and pressed himself close to Jon, his face buried in his shoulder. It was comfortable, familiar, and instinctual, and Jon found himself loosely wrapping his arms around the man.

They...hugged. Jon felt weird about it. But it was nice? Why was it nice?

Then the man casually reached up, gently took Jon’s cheeks in his hands, and bent him down to kiss him.

Jon’s brain short circuited.

It lasted an excruciatingly long time, and also no time at all. The man released him, stepping back and frowning. It must have been something in Jon’s reaction - the way he stiffened or tensed. Or maybe, from where he was pressed up against Jon’s chest, he didn’t feel a heartbeat. Jon had read that humans had those.

“Jon?” The man asked, face creased in sweet confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” Jon said, feeling unbearably awkward about all of this, “who are you, again?”

*****

At least they didn’t go back to that creepy little cabin.

Instead, Jon found that the man - “Martin, Jon, Jesus, my name is Martin!” - was staying in something called an ‘Air-Bee-en-Bee’ at the outskirts of the village. Or perhaps squatting was a better term - when Jon was guided inside, he saw the telltale signs of a life quickly disrupted. The previous resident of this cute little cottage had left in a hurry, as if it would save her.

He experimentally opened his Eyes, ignoring Martin’s - or was it Michael? - raised eyebrow, and let himself Know the information. Ah, excellent - the Hunt. She had thought that her ex-husband had chased her down to Scotland from France. Delightful. He wondered what the Ex-Husband was really doing -

“Jon! Focus, please.”

Jon guiltily let his eyes close and his hair float back down. Michael didn’t seem surprised by the display, just exhausted. He collapsed at a little circular kitchen table, a woman’s hairbrush and a newspaper still spread out on it. Jon cautiously sat down on the chair next to him, feeling strangely guilty. He didn’t know why. Maybe it had to do with how stressed out and afraid and tired the other man looked, and how Jon was sure that it was all his fault.

“This has been the worst two weeks of my life,” Martin said, face buried in his hands. “Which says a lot, really. I’ve had a real shite life, but this is really just - just beyond the pale.”

“Okay?” Jon didn’t know what to do with this. Martin seemed as if he needed to vent a little, but Jon didn’t know how to be comforting. Wait - wait, this was his speciality. He was too off guard to think of it before, but it would obviously fix this situation. Jon let his irises spin as Martin looked up from his hands, startled at their green light. “Why did -”

“Stop that,” Martin said sharply, and Jon did.

He shut up. He closed his mouth and swallowed the question. He had never - no Statement for the Archivist? - why had - what -

“I understand you’re scared and confused,” Martin explained, not answering the question of how he had done that. “But you can’t just compel people like that. No matter what the world looks like now, you know it’s wrong.”

“I - I do?” Jon asked, flabbergasted.

Martin faltered a little. “Do you not?”

They stared at each other until Jon began to feel a little defensive. As if he was doing something wrong by just - by just existing. It was eating, what wasn’t natural about that! Jon leaned back in his chair, finding himself crossing his arms. “You’re the first human I’ve had an actual conversation with, so excuse me if I don’t know how it works.”

But Martin just looked gobsmacked, mouth opening and closing as Jon begins to tire of this conversation. He unfolds his arms and leans forward, tugging the newspaper closer to him. The headline ran a cheerful story about how Farmer Douglas McIntyre had won an award for the biggest zucchini. Good for him! Jon wondered what Farmer Doug was doing now. Immediately after he had that thought, he knew exactly what Farmer Doug was doing right now, and he spared a second to feel very bad for him.

“Jon, you’re a human.”

Hm. Maybe this Martin guy didn’t know as much about Jon as he pretended. Jon didn’t look up from the newspaper, flipping the page. Oh, look, the Horoscopes. “Don’t be silly. I’m an Archive.”

That quieted Martin, who seemed to be thinking very hard. Jon tried to remember what his birthday was. He had read it on that little card that had been in his pocket - right, right, February 14th. Aquarius.

“I read the statement you left on the floor,” Martin said quietly, and Jon abruptly shut up. What statement? “Jonah lied, you know. That’s all he does, is lie. You’re not an Archive, a thing, you’re - even if you’re not human anymore, you’re a person. You know that, Jon. In your heart, even if you don’t remember. You’re more than what Jonah tried to make you.” He looked down at the table, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Jon anymore. “What he succeeded in making you, I guess.”

The words soothed an anxiety Jon didn’t even know he had. They settled something in him, calmed him and reassured him. But they incensed him too, this blatant disregard of something Jon knew was true. Martin seemed good at that, both riling him up and calming him. How was his control over Jon’s emotions so effortless, as if he wasn’t doing it on purpose at all. It was a talent.

“Who even are you?” Jon snapped, feeling flayed raw and vulnerable. But he always felt like that, really - lost and dazed. The world was too loud for him sometimes, too novel and exciting and relentless, and Jon spent long hours cooped up in a dark room with a good book just for some safety. There wasn’t anything around that could hurt Jon - he knew that like he knew he was an Archive, no matter what Martin said - but he still felt so scared, all the time. “What gives you the right to tell me who and what I am like this?”

What would ameliorate that fear? The only thing Jon could think of was to understand where he came from a little bit better, and understand what he had been doing before two weeks ago. If he had been doing anything at all. Jon had wondered if that moment was when he had been born, but - well, the clothing he was wearing had been somewhat threadbare, and the card indicated a history.

He hadn’t entirely ruled out that he was a sort of...manifestation of this newly apocalyptic world inserted inside the corpse of a man who took his last breath the second Jon took his first, but he was keeping his options open. If what Martin was saying was true, that he really was a person who had simply run afoul of Jonah Magnus and paid the ultimate price...he didn’t know if it made him feel better or worse. Maybe a little worse, actually?

But Martin just seemed shocked by the question, shocked by Jon’s need to ask it, shocked that he didn’t even understand. No, not shocked - maybe just very sad and tired. He seemed so tired. “Jon, I’m your boyfriend.”

“Oh.” That explained a lot. Jon narrowed his eyes. “But you don’t look like a cowboy,” he said, somewhat reproachfully.

Martin stifled a laugh behind a hand. Jon felt strangely pleased, even if he hadn’t been making a joke.

Then something seemed to occur to Martin, because he straightened abruptly. “Oh, god, Jon, you must have been so confused when I kissed you.” He buried his face in his hands again. “I finally get a boyfriend, and two weeks later he’s an amnesiac and it’s the apocalypse. I always said the world would end before I would find someone, I just didn’t know it would be two weeks after…”

“Do you need a moment?” Jon said sympathetically. “Or you can tell me about it? I’m quite a good listener.”

“I can’t decide if this is surreal or terrible.”

Jon felt a little lost. It was quite possibly the most familiar emotion he had - knowing what was happening but not quite understanding, frantically consuming information about the world around him while his perception of himself was hidden behind a thick wall of static.

He didn’t know what to say to make this man feel better.

“Are you sure you don’t want to give a Statement?” Jon asked hopefully. Statements were most of what he knew, and the only context in which he interacted with humans.

“I’m not giving a fucking statement, Jon!” Martin snapped, and Jon cringed. Martin’s face immediately crumpled, in what Jon was forced to assume was guilt. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m just stressed - no, Jon, I shouldn’t have snapped. It’s just - Jon, the Statements are evil. They’re bad. You always knew - Jon, you have to restrain yourself. You can really hurt someone else. Do you understand?”

No, Jon didn’t understand. He didn’t understand Martin, he didn’t understand how to relate a ‘boyfriend’ to himself, and he didn’t know why Martin kept on trying to tell him that something good was bad. Statements were good. Jon knew in his gut that Jon was nothing but Statements: that he was fear, and fear was him, and that the world was fear. That Jon was the world, strung through a sack of meat. An Archive.

“Why are you always trying to make me feel bad,” Jon said lowly, and Martin shut up. He started at Jon with wide eyes, slightly alarmed. “For a boyfriend you really seem to hate me.”

“Jon, no. I love you. I’ve never hated you, not even - I don’t think I’m capable of hating you, do you get that?” Martin’s expression softened a little, but something about it was still deeply sad. “This is a problem, but we can fix it. We just have to work together. We’ve gotten through everything, we can get through - the apocalypse and this amnesia and everything. We can do it, Jon, we just have to stick together.”

Something mysterious swirled in Jon’s chest, yet another of the frustrating emotions he just didn’t understand. It felt quite bad. “There’s nothing to fix.”

They sat there in silence, Martin sitting at the edge of the bed with his face in his hands and kneading his forehead gently. He looked tired, and defeated. Jon just sat in the little chair at the little stand, flipping aimlessly through a newspaper that held no new information at all, lost and confused.

Of course, there was one thing Jon did know. He stared curiously at Martin, whose shoulders were shaking a little. “Are you going to cry again? I haven’t even done anything to you.”

“People cry even when you haven’t hurt them, Jon,” Martin said dully into his hands.

For some reason, this made Jon oddly anxious. “Why else do people cry? I don’t understand why people are always crying. All they do is cry and scream or wail or -” Jon threw a hand out, irritated, “ - try to put themselves out of their misery, or whatever. But nothing’s happening to you and I haven’t asked you a single question. Why do humans cry all the time?”

“When we are very, very sad, Jon,” Martin said quietly. “That’s why we cry.”

Jon stared at him. Martin wiped his eyes a little, unbending, and stared at Jon very firmly. His expression was creased in unhappiness, but there was something very firm in the set of his mouth and chin. As if what he was doing was very difficult, but he chose to do it anyway. Had Jon ever done that? Did he remember?

He stood up, and Jon cautiously leaned back in his chair as Martin walked up to him. But he just knelt instead, gently taking Jon’s hand and squeezing it tight. He met Jon’s eyes fiercely, now a little lower than him, and Jon felt something strange writhe in his chest.

What was this feeling? He had never felt it before. It was…

“I promised Jon. For better or for worse.” The corners of his mouth twinged. “Well, not that particular promise, but we wanted...anyway. I’ll promise to you, here. I am here to help you. I know it’s scary. I know you may not want it. But that’s when we need it most, okay? I know you’re lost and confused. I’m not going to push you.” He faltered, just a little, and looked away. “Maybe this is for the best. Maybe you - maybe you needed this. Even if it meant that I -”

“Meant that you what?”

Martin looked back at Jon, smiling weakly. “Don’t worry about it. But I’m not going to push you to rem - to act in a way that you don’t feel is right. I just need you to listen to me and take my thoughts into consideration, alright?”

“I still need to eat,” Jon said sulkily. “You can’t stop me doing that.”

“Yes,” Martin said, face curiously blank. “I can’t stop you.”

“Good!” Jon brightened. “I suppose having a human around would be useful. There’s lots of things around I just don’t understand. You can explain things.” In a hit of magnaminty, Jon proclaimed, “And I’ll make sure that nothing eats you. That’s a real tit for that.”

“Looking forward to it,” Martin said, already seeming a little exhausted.

“Then it’s settled.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand back and, on impulse, leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. Martin startled a little but didn’t pull away. It was nice, his stubble all scratchy and soft. “You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, Martin.”

“That was always true,” Martin teased - teased! He stood up, and Jon stood up with him. He didn’t let go of the hand, strangely attached to its warmth and pressure. When Martin faltered a little, Jon squeezed his hand even tighter. It made Jon feel better, so maybe it would help Martin. That was a nice thought: that Jon could make someone feel better, instead of worse. “You haven’t asked about yourself at all.”

But Jon just shrugged. “I highly doubt I - or Jonathan Sims, whatever - had any loved ones. It’s a surprise you even exist, honestly.”

Martin opened his mouth, then closed it. “People cared,” he said weakly.

“Lie,” Jon said severely. “Don’t lie to me, I can tell and it’s unbecoming.” But Jon was nice, and he decided to let the lie go. This time. If there was one thing Jon couldn’t abide it was chronic liars, but Martin didn’t seem the sort. “That’s all unimportant, now. We should move forward. There’s a lot of apocalypse to see, and I want to see the Flesh’s Corpse Flowers for myself. I hear that they’re made out of real -”

“I had an idea, actually,” Martin said, stopping Jon short. He looked like he strongly wanted to press the ‘loved ones’ thing, but he was refraining. Good. People shouldn’t ask him invasive questions. “I can see the tower in the distance. It has to be in London, right? And that has to be the epicenter of this. I wouldn’t have gone by myself, but with you here maybe we can find Jonah Magnus and -”

Jon didn’t know what stopped Martin short. Maybe it was the look on Jon’s face. He didn’t know what the look was, and he didn’t bother to see. All he knew was the horror in his chest, so deep and overwhelming he felt as if he could drown in it. A strange, foreign feeling, that was as familiar to him as his own body. Something that, in another person, Jon would have labelled as terror.

“ - or we don’t have to,” Martin said softly. “Why don’t we try to find the others, then? Regroup. I’m worried sick about them. You can find anyone in this world, right? Can you dig up a few humans for me? They’re our frie - well, we’re close, anyway.”

That was much easier. Although Jon wasn’t sure how he felt about more humans, it would definitely be interesting. There had to be good stories from any of Martin’s friends - maybe even people who Jonathan Sims had known. “I can do that no problem. Names?”

“Uh.” Martin thought hard. “Basira Hussain, I think, but she can take care of herself. We should probably find Georgie and Melanie first, they have to be vulnerable. What with Melanie’s - yeah, we need to make sure she’s okay. Georgina Barker and Melanie King, then?”

Sounded easy enough. Jon did the only familiar thing and let his eyes open, letting his unkept hair float gently up. Jon Looked, and Saw -

“Don’t make people up,” Jon said scornfully, a little embarrassed. “Give me a real person now, please.”

Martin gaped. “They’re real, I swear! Are they dead, or -”

“No, I’d know if they were dead. They just...don’t exist?” Jon fought the urge to pout. “I hate it when people don’t exist.”

“...do they not exist or can you just not see them?”

“What’s the difference?” Jon asked blankly, and Martin shrugged in concession of the point. “Anyone else?”

“Okay, Mr. Apocalypse Google,” Martin teased lightly, and Jon surreptitiously downloaded what a ‘Google’ was. Ah! It was funny! But what was the internet? “Basira Hussain, then? You said that the last you saw of her, she was trying to find Daisy - or what was left of Daisy.” Martin’s mouth twisted unhappily. “If Daisy hadn’t gotten to her…”

Jon Looked again, and this time he got an easy answer fed into his mind. It was a great answer too, and made Jon grin in excitement. “Basira Hussain’s fighting her way through Manchester, but I have a bead on Daisy Tonner. Fantastic! She’s a few hours away!”

“She’s what!” Martin screeched. “Oh my god, she’s going to eat us!”

“Don’t be silly, I’d eat her first.” But Jon was bouncing on his heels in excitement. This woman wasn’t a human - she was a monster, a monster who knew him, and Jon couldn’t wait to find somebody who would understand what it’s like. “Let’s go, we have to catch up!”

“Look, I know you two were friends, but she is quite literally probably a giant Hunt monster right now - alright, alright, coming!”

Jon bolted out the door, Martin hot on his heels, and there was a strange lightness in his chest that hadn’t been there before.

Jon didn’t know what or who he was - if his gut was right, and he was a simulacrum of fear assembled by Jonah Magnus, or if Martin was right, and he was a lost man without a past who had doomed the future. Maybe it was both, or neither, or something far more complicated in between. Maybe it was too complicated to Know or See, and too big to understand. Maybe it was something Jon had to figure out for himself.

Martin would help. And if he didn’t help, then it probably wasn’t a real loss. He seemed to be going through something himself, which was none of Jon’s business. Even if he was the only person in the world who had ever seemed to care about Jonathan Sims.

Well. Everyone was disappointed eventually. Jon had gotten over his own early. Martin would realize, sooner or later. That Jon was a monster, who did not not know how to receive or give love, and that he would never be able to give Martin the human he loved back.

Jon had the feeling that a lot of people had realized that about Jonathan Sims.

#my writing #like seriously though jon had spent three years in the story wondering if he had started the apocalypse on purpose and martin just #shuts that shit down #am I an evil simulcrum of fear created by jonah magnus?#no you're my boyfriend shut up #am I human or monster - who cares look at this dumb couch #anyway one must assume that in this au of an au there's hilarious trio hijinks with jon martin and daisy rampaging their way through the uk

49 notes · View notes