#uploaded his background which was just nothing. and said that he feels empty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—demon-etized. (m)

⟶ pairing: namjoon x reader

⟶ analytics: youtuber!namjoon / ghost-hunters au / smut

⟶ words: 6,260

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ warnings: idiot ghost hunter bts, ghosts making namjoon horny ig?, slight exhibitionism, fondling, fingering, standing sex, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ description: in this episode of unsolved, namjoon and the boys risk their lives by spending overnight in an abandoned and supposedly haunted asylum in the hopes of finding some ghouls — but the boys are pretty certain the real reason for the spooky moaning isn’t allowed to go on youtube. ***warning: very scary!!!***

⟶ pinned comment: this is part of the not clickbait series!

“Well, this has been fun. Let’s go home now.”

You were starting to think this was a very stupid idea ━ but stupid would be an understatement. The looming asylum standing before you with nothing but the darkened midnight sky in the foreground acts as a foreboding omen that you’ve seen one too many times in pretty much any horror movie. The creepy abandoned estate offering itself up as a seemingly perfect and totally innocent means of adventure for a group of friends only to end in murder or a demon possession should have been enough to scare you all away. Fortunately, you’re not the only somewhat sane person (and you say that very loosely because you did, after all, agree to come with the boys), because you’re both startled yet thoroughly relieved to hear the worried statement coming from a very tense-looking Jimin.

It really was a stupid idea. Spending overnight (which, really, just translates to a few hours and a clickbait-y title for the video) in a supposedly haunted and derelict asylum from the early 1900s offered all sorts of problems that weren’t just supernatural. Squatters, creepy cult members, and risking getting whatever sorts of diseases are riddling the walls of the ancient dwelling were starting to get to you. But it was Namjoon’s idea to come here for his next video upload especially when considering the fact that for the entire month of October he and his group of YouTuber friends host a fan favourite ghost-hunting series titled Unsolved ━ and, whatever Namjoon usually suggests, the boys usually tag along with, no matter how daring or how stupid it may be.

“We literally just got here,” Hoseok retorts as he hops out of one of the two cars you and your friends had shared on the way here. It was a three hour drive from the city with the estate being much larger than you expected it to be, four main buildings sprawling out amongst empty fields. At least the stories of its creepy atmosphere are all the same. Was it the cool autumn breeze sending chills down your spine or something else entirely? The moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed upon the asylum, it was almost as if you could feel something watching you. But that was definitely just you imagining things. “Don’t be a pussy, Jimin. What’s the worst a ghost is gonna do to you? Rattle some chains? Ooooh, spooky.”

“Okay, first of all,” Jimin rounds on the older boy almost immediately, “vaginas are the strongest muscles in female anatomy, so I’m not being a pussy. Let’s get it right, okay? I’m being a little bitch, and I embrace it. Second of all, if a ghost does rattle some chains near me, I will definitely be booking it back to the car and leaving all of you stranded here.”

From beside you, Yoongi snorts amusedly. He’s the resident non-believer amongst your group of friends so you always wonder why he even bothers to come to these things. He says it’s to help filming, but you think he’s banking on maybe one day seeing a ghost even despite all that charade of hostility. Even now, he’s already filming for the vlog, getting shots of the building but also mostly just Jimin and Hoseok’s banter in the background. “If a ghost does anything tonight, I’ll be genuinely surprised.”

“Something is going to happen tonight. I can feel it,” Jungkook says confidently. He’d been huddled over the opened side door of one of the cars with Namjoon and Jin, sifting through their high-tech equipment that you’re certain they just bought off of Amazon or something. “This place is one of the most haunted places near us. Have you even heard the stories? Apparently there are two most popular ghost sightings. One is some girl━”

“Is she hot?” Taehyung asks.

“She’s dead,” Jungkook deadpans. “Also, pretty sure she was eleven when she died from tuberculosis. Anyway, she’s more of a benevolent ghost. They say you can hear her laughing sometimes. There’s a lot of activity in one of the kids’ rooms. And the other sighting is less friendly. They just call it a shadow man because it’s hard to see its face, but you can always see an outline of a person walking by in one of their treatment buildings. There’s even been physical attacks, with one person saying they got scratched by an invisible force.”

Jimin visibly winces. “Sounds very much like a demon than a ghost to me.”

“Sick!” Hoseok exclaims. You’re worried to find that the group’s morale (aside from yours and Jimin’s) isn’t any less vivacious than when Jungkook started his story. “This is gonna be awesome.”

But you can’t help but to roll your eyes, your feigned boredom really just a weak attempt at hiding your own fright. “Oh, shut up. That’s such bullshit.”

“Is it?” Jungkook quirks a brow, challenging you.

“Well, whatever happens, we’re gonna catch it.” This confident statement comes from Namjoon. After he hands out the pieces of tech to the rest of his friends, he glances upward at the asylum with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come on. Let’s find us some ghosties.”

As the group begins to follow Namjoon towards the nearest building, Taehyung can be heard wolfishly quipping aloud, “Time to rock and roll, ghoul boys! And, er, girl.”

“Don’t call us that,” Yoongi grumbles.

It’s comforting to hear the rest of the group erupt into fits of entertained laughter, but any banter is quick to subside as you walk up to the building. You’re relieved when Jimin decides to hang back with you and doesn’t seem to protest when you start to cling to his arm as you’re all ushered through the main entrance of the building and into utter darkness only broken apart by the dim glow of your flashlights. If you weren’t already so frightened, maybe some of it would be comical, like the way the front doors creak open so very slowly in suspense.

Under Jimin’s breath, you can hear him mumbling in chagrin, “We should have gotten holy water.”

As your eyes adjust to the darkness within, you’re able to make out that the inside is just as horrifying as it was on the outside. Dust and debris hang heavy in the air and on the ground, and almost every inch of any surface within the building is covered in graffiti works of art.

“Oh, fuck that,” Jin scoffs. “We only just stepped foot into here and this place is already giving me goosebumps.”

“Aw, sweet, bro! Check this out!” Hoseok says abruptly, startling almost all of you. He’s standing a bit further off down one hall, beckoning the rest of the group to follow. As you approach him, you can make out what sort of graffiti marking on the ground has suddenly grabbed his attention. “Who wants to lay on the pentagram with me?”

“No one,” You retort.

“I will!” Jungkook says at once, much to your dismay.

Yoongi lets out an audible strained sigh. “If any of you fucks get possessed and kill me, I’m never gonna forgive any of you. Just letting you know ahead of time.”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do?” Hoseok asks. “Come back and haunt us?”

“No, I’ll be dead. Ghosts aren’t real,” Yoongi says. “But I will still be very angry.”

“Noted.”

Before Jungkook or Hoseok can haggle Yoongi into filming them laying on the pentagram drawing and potentially offering their souls up to whatever demon lays waiting beneath it for their souls, the group is moving on. You explore the first bottom half of the building together in a tense silence before making your way up the dilapidated stairs to one of the treatment rooms that Jungkook makes certain to point out is where the infamous shadow figure is often seen. Taehyung decides to suggest, “Should we try the spirit box?”

You almost groan aloud. You fucking hate that thing, for obvious reasons.

Whether or not you believe in it, the loud gurgling noise is always unsettling and you’re already on edge. Still, you sit back with Jimin as the rest of the boys nod in agreement and fiddle with the piece of tech until it’s been turned on. You’re immediately met with a cacophony of crackling radio static so deafening that your instinctual reaction is to cover your ears. You refrain miraculously, but you still cower in one corner with Jimin as the boys listen intently to the noise.

“Is anyone here?” Namjoon calls out to no one in particular. “If you are, can you give us a sign? Move a chair or say something or push Yoongi━”

“What the━?” Yoongi gawks. “Why me?”

“‘Cause you said you don’t believe in them.”

Yoongi clamps his mouth shut, and nods in a way that admits Namjoon has a point. At that moment, there’s a pique in the static, a jumble of inaudible words that almost sounds humanlike.

“What was that?” Hoseok asks. “Sounded like… It almost sounded like it said ‘leave.’”

“Leave?” Jimin squeaks. “Think we should take that as a sign, guys.”

“Nah, I definitely heard Steve, not leave,” Yoongi says.

Jungkook frowns. “Who the hell is Steve?”

“Maybe that’s his name,” Yoongi suggests nonchalantly. “Be nice.”

After a handful of minutes of even more strained silence, the boys are only able to discern certain words that you’re positive don’t have anything to do with the asylum or ghosts. At long last, they shut the machine off and the room is once more plunged into a formidable silence so dense that you almost miss the spirit box. But almost as soon as the piece of tech has been silenced, does Jimin cry out in pure anguish. “What the fuck was that?”

The boys instantly round on their startled friend who is now cowering behind you. The colour has all but drained from his face, eyes wide in a frenzied panic.

“What’s wrong?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin looks hysterical as he shoves a pointed finger in the direction of the wall opposite the room in the corridor. “I swear on my life I just saw something move out of the corner of my eye over there. Like a-a person o-or something. Looked like a shadow. I don’t know! I thought it was one of you guys━”

“Stop it, Jimin.” Your voice treads on apprehension as you look over at the alarmed boy. “You’re scaring me.”

“Yeah, ease up, Jimin,” Namjoon says, though he seems more entertained than anything. “I’d prefer if you didn’t throw my girlfriend headfirst towards a demon or ghost or whatever it is you saw.”

“Joon.” His name rolls off your tongue in a scolding moan as you rub wearily at your eyes. His words do little to help console you, and you’re certain it fairs even worse for poor Jimin.

“I’m sorry. I just━” Jimin pulls you tighter in front of him. “I swear I saw something. Holy shit.”

Jungkook’s the first one outside the room, his own camera in his hands as he goes to investigate. As the rest of the boys file outside in the corridor, you drag Jimin along with you, favouring not to be alone in any part of the building. You can hardly see anything, let alone a shadow.

Jungkook turns back around at long last, a devious grin on his face as he finds Jimin’s wandering crazed stare. “Maybe it was the shadow man. Told you he exists.”

“I don’t care what it was. My heart almost fell out of my ass,” Jimin gasps. He clutches at his chest over his heart, for added emphasis. “Let’s get out of here.”

You aren’t quite sure if the boys believe him, but you do notice how quick they are to move on from the room and corridor. A palpable tension hangs heavy in the air that makes you realize perhaps the boys are starting to lose their cool under pressure.

As you reconvene below on the main floor of the building, Namjoon pipes up. “Let’s split up. See if we can find anything on our own.”

“Okay, Scooby Doo,” Jin snorts. “You do know that this is how every horror movie begins, right? There’s power in numbers.”

“Yeah. Which is what we’ll all be saying when this video reaches trending on YouTube with a million views,” Namjoon says, matter-of-fact. “Which we can only do if we get some interesting content. So, let’s split up into pairs of two. We’ll meet back here in an hour.”

“We could just fake it,” Jimin suggests desperately. “Like every big YouTuber does. The magic of editing, guys.” But no one seems to be listening anymore as the group begins to splinter off. Yoongi and Jungkook decide to venture back upstairs in pursuit of the elusive and supposed shadow man, while Hoseok and Taehyung wander outside. Lost and dumbfounded, Jimin gawks around at his retreating friends, calling out in one last effort, “Anyone? …No? Okay, cool.”

He nearly lets out a yelp when Jin clasps a hand on the boy’s shoulder in a reassuring manner. “You’ll be okay, Jimin. C’mon, let’s go.”

Finally alone with Namjoon, he offers up his outstretched hand to you. You take it at once, gripping his palm a little tighter than necessary as he pulls you towards him.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” You lie, even though you know he can see right through it.

You’re content to find that he at least keeps your hand in his even as he tugs you along with him to explore the rest of the asylum. You decide to leave the building you’re both in and wander to another one where you stumble upon Hoseok and Taehyung on the main floor briefly. Then, making your way upstairs, you find nothing out of the ordinary but empty rooms that you suspect were once upon a time sleeping quarters for the patients. It’s less frightening than the other buildings, though still a little unnerving the longer you stay to explore. You climb the stairs until you’re on the third landing and inspect almost every room to find nothing.

At some point, you let out a wavering sigh. Namjoon is busy waving around an EMF reader in a room. It’s empty aside from a dusty cot and a broken wardrobe, amongst a few other oddities covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dirt. You could have sworn you’ve heard footsteps in almost every room you’ve entered that wasn’t either yours or Namjoons, and the strange sensation that you’re being followed hasn’t been able to shake from you. “Joon? Can we go back now? I’m starting to get a little spooked.”

Namjoon comes to a halt at once, turning around to face you. He gives your palm a comforting squeeze. “Hey, you’re okay. There’s nothing to be scared of. I don’t mean to sound like Yoongi but I highly doubt we have to worry about any ghosts.”

“Well, what do you think Jimin saw?”

“Who knows?” Namjoon shrugs. “It was probably just his imagination. Your mind plays tricks on you in the dark, doesn’t it? Here, let’s talk about something else to distract you.”

“Like?”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as Namjoon considers another thought. You don’t even realize the smug smirk unfurling on his face until it’s too late. “Well… I had an idea earlier. Just a passing thought, really, but I bet it’d be fun anyway.”

“What was it?”

“We could probably have a quickie in one of these rooms and the boys would never know any different.”

You nearly choke at this, sputtering for air as you reach out to flick Namjoon’s shoulder. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” You admit sheepishly. He places his hands on your hips then, pulling you delicately towards him in a manner that makes it hard to focus now. “But I don’t know how I feel about ghosts watching us. Also, the couple that has sex in any horror movie usually ends up dying first.”

Namjoon shakes his head at you, albeit a little amused at your worrisome thoughts. “Nothing’s gonna hurt you. At least not while I’m here.”

“Coming from the man who tripped going up the stairs at your dorm the other day,” You point out tauntingly. The distant reminder and the sound of his abrupt laughter is enough to momentarily soothe your hammering heart.

Namjoon gasps, feigning a look of mock hurt. ��What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Means I love you very much but I don’t know how well you’d fair against ghosts or demons.”

“Ahh, I see how it is.”

He sounds mildly offended and pokes his fingers at your sides but, in the ensuing scuffle to flee from his grasp, the both of you trip and fumble until you’re pressed up against the nearest wall, the sound of your snickers like music to his ears. He comes colliding against your front, hands digging into your hips. He leans forward to kiss your lips slowly, feeling you smile against him. A delightful chuckle bubbles at your mouth and he parts from you in the next moment wiggling his brows suggestively while a teasing smirk stretches at his face so wide, his dimples start to poke through.

“Wanna?” he asks.

It’s a simple question, weighing heavy with dirty implications ━ and honestly? You’re kind of into it. Or maybe that’s just because he returns to kissing at your lips, only this time at the corners of your mouth, then the underside of your jaw. Tantalizing motions that seem to make your head spin violently. Your head lolls back against the wall behind you as he droops his head to your neck, lips meeting with the soft flesh of your throat to suck a delicate blossoming hickey there.

“Okay,” You rasp, “so maybe we can spare some time for this.”

“Ah, so now you’re interested.” His voice is huskier now, muffled by the way he busies himself by nipping at the same spot on your throat. He hears your breath hitch, feels the way you part your legs just slightly enough to have him sink further against you. He marvels at your decision in the morning to throw on a skirt and a pair of thick wool tights. At the time, you had said it was because the weather wasn’t too brisk outside just yet; now, he was thanking you silently for unknowingly picking just the right outfit for the occasion.

“Namjoon…” Your voice is strained now, a mix between a plea and a whine and he grunts against your neck.

It takes Namjoon a moment to rack his brain, realizing that he finds it hard to even form a proper sentence anymore. “Don’t even need to feel my dick in you. Just wanna get you off, baby. Can I?”

You’re already practically drooling. “Think the boys will notice if we’re gone a little longer?”

“Who cares?” Namjoon quips. “Jimin’ll probably think we got possessed and lost in the demon world or something.”

You giggle, though your voice splinters off into a soft moan as he continues to nip and suck at your neck. His hand falls to your thighs then, fingers brushing upward faintly until he meets the short hem of your skirt before disappearing beneath it. His hand comes to grasp at the delicate curve of your ass, his palm hot and firm against your soft flesh.

He groans into your neck. “Been dying all night to touch you.”

“Then don’t stop.”

If the way his hardening cock now forms against your inner thigh any inclination, you don’t think he has plans on doing so. Instead, you watch as he lifts his free hand to your mouth, fingers tapping at your lips in a wordless motion. “Open up.”

You do as you’re told, lips parting just enough to wrap around his two fingers. He gazes at you with hooded eyes as you suck at his digits, tongue laving against the sturdy form in your mouth until his fingers are coated thick with your saliva. His other hand, still attached to the rump of your ass, moves like water over your skin to your thigh once more, nudging you aside just enough, pinching delicately at the skin there; he pulls his fingers from your mouth then, then lets the same hand venture under your skirt in a similar fashion. He wastes no time in pushing aside the material of your panties, pressing his digits at your core, watchful eyes staying fixated on yours if only to watch your every expression. His dampened fingers slide over your folds, spreading them open, running across them, admiring the way your stickiness already forms between your legs.

“Joon…” You cling to him tighter, both to steady yourself against the sudden ministrations and to shield yourself more from view, though you’re certain there’s a slim chance the boys will come across you and Namjoon like this. You hope.

Namjoon’s fingers slip past your folds then, slow and steady as he feels the tight constricting walls of your cunt. You throb around him, thinking only of his cock, imagining the girth of it fitting snug deep within you. The similar stretch of your walls, the fluid motion of his length burrowing in and out of you, wrecking you into shambles. Now, Namjoon wriggles his fingers upward, scratching at a spot within you that has you writhing against him, the slick wetness of your arousal sufficiently coating his fingers. His thumb finds your clit then, running small circles against the small bundle of nerves.

“So wet,” Namjoon moans, resting his forehead against yours. He notes the way your teeth sink into your lower lip, and pulls his free hand out from under your skirt to tap his fingers against your chin. “Gonna moan for me, baby? Let the boys hear you? Maybe wake the dead?”

“You’re such a brat,” You simper through a shuddering breath, and if you weren’t so consumed by him then maybe you would have laughed at the joke he manages to squeeze in at the last moment. But he’s not wrong. What’s the point in keeping silent in an abandoned building that you’re positive only you and your friends are currently occupying? How much longer do you expect to keep quiet, when the way he’s making you feel begins to slowly burn at your insides?

He curls his fingers deep in you, and your jaw unhinges in a silent gap. You wonder how long you can last, face burning with every passing second as he fingers you closer and closer to your high. Your hips jut outward to meet his hand with every motion, grinding against his knuckles in a desperate need to get off. You’re shameless about it too, fingers gripping his shirt tightly, brows scrunched together in hardened dedication.

“Such a pretty little mess,” Namjoon hums. “Want you to cum on my hand, baby girl.”

“Fuck, Namjoon━” You whimper now, head lulling back as he twists his fingers further in you.

But, as soon as you do so, the echoing sound of footsteps has your eyes darting to the darkened corridor. You make out the sound of oblivious chatter, and the familiar voices of Taehyung and Hoseok echoing from somewhere down below. They must be two floors down, though you can hear them screaming at nothing in particular, except for a string of profanities that meet your ears.

“Jesus, fuck!” That definitely sounds like Taehyung, voice shrill with worry.

“Chill!” There’s Hoseok, but you think he was also screaming moments ago with Taehyung. “It’s just a spider.”

“I don’t care! Get it off of me!”

“Bunch of dumbasses,” Namjoon shakes his head rigidly, a fleeting grin forming on his face that is quick to fade as he curls his fingers upwards further into you. And, while your attention is somewhat fixated on the boys, you find yourself treading a fine line of not giving a fuck as Namjoon’s fingers stay buried deep within your cunt. Still, Namjoon can sense the slight urgency in your demeanor when your hands wind around his neck to tug at his hair, as if to gesture to the strangers that he already knows are nearby.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs reassuringly, voice low enough for only you to hear. “You’re doing so good, love.”

He slows his fingers almost to a halt as you burrow your face in the crook of his neck. Your walls continue to clench around his fingers, and he adds a third finger to stretch you out just enough in a teasing leisure manner. He does it on purpose too, this much you know for certain, as he pinches playfully at your waist. It’s lewd, the idea of him fingering you out in public like this but the emboldened adrenaline coursing through your veins doesn’t want him to stop. By now, your high overwhelms everything else, causing you to writhe against Namjoon as he cradles you to him. You cum moments later, your orgasm overcoming you before you can sense it, trembling beneath his hands as he continues to finger you through it. Warm, wet arousal leaks from your core, coats his fingers all over as a punctuating whimper of his name tumbles from your lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he says gently. “Let everyone hear how dirty you are. Let it all out.”

Your thighs shake, squeezing shut around his hand, and all he can do is rub soothing circles into your hips with his free hand. He waits for your breath to steady, as the coil in your belly loosens, instead taking the time to admire you to your fullest, drunken hooded eyes glazed over in that perfect expression he loves.

“Want your cock in me now, Joon,” You whine breathlessly. The whining persistence in your voice excites Namjoon, only amplified tenfold by the way you begin nipping and sucking at his neck.

“Now?” he asks.

“Now.”

Almost instantly, there’s a noticeable shift in his expression, a shit-eating smirk tugging at his mouth. You smother the rest of it before it can become too smug, folding your lips over his. Still, he hums through your eager kissing, “Yeah? Gonna let me fuck you like this, love? Take you raw against this wall, right here, right now?”

“Yes, please,” You mewl. Growing restless, you beg silently, “Namjoon.”

“Better make it quick then, hm?”

You can only nod, still in a daze from the orgasm that still courses through your veins. Namjoon’s quick to oblige, pulling his hands from your heat and wiping your slick wetness off on his thigh. Clumsy hands between the both of you fumble to undo the button of his jeans, hastily undoing them just enough to free his straining cock from within. He wedges himself between your legs, hiking your skirt farther up your thighs, and he hurries to free his length from its confinements, wild locks spilling out onto his forehead and into your own line of sight. You push his hair up and away from his face, though your fingers grip suddenly at the roots of his locks when he grips your thigh and hoists it up to his hip, and then pushes himself into you at once, the tip of his warm cock easily coaxed by your already wet walls. He moans into your neck but muffles it halfheartedly by kissing along your throat.

“Easy there, boy,” You snicker, though your own words are a weak drunken slur, drowning out into a muffled whimper as he thrusts himself into you all the way. His hips meet yours roughly, grinding against you as your walls stretch around his throbbing cock.

“I’m needy,” he whines. “Just wanna feel you around me.”

He wastes no time in moving again, pulling his hips back only to thrust into you, adopting a steady fluid pace in such a way that has your head lolling back against the wall, and your mouth popping open in a silent moan as you shift beneath him. The wall of the building behind you is rough and jagged but you don’t feel it, not with the way he continues to thrust into you. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, stretching you apart in such a way that has him pummeling his length into your core just right.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your neck. Impatient hands move to yank your shirt up to your chest, pulling your bra down just enough for your breasts to pop out. He moves to leave a wet trail of kisses to your breasts, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and sucking harshly at it. The new sensation has your own walls clenching around him, and he almost comes undone then. Against your chest, you can hear him murmur breathlessly, “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Mmm,” You tug harshly at the roots of his hair. An unabashedly loud moan nearly tumbles from your lips before you can bite it back. Elsewhere, you can hear the sound of faint footsteps once more in the far distance, Taehyung and Hoseok much closer this time (quite possibly on the same floor as you, but the opposite end), but you don’t seem to care much anymore about the potentiality of being caught. “Fuck, Namjoon━”

“You like being fucked like this?” he rasps. “Out in public, for anyone to see?”

You feebly muster a nod, lips parting in a silent moan safe for the sound of your hot panting in his ear. Hurried yet deep shuddering strokes, he fucks into you again and again until your head is spinning. Every thrust sends a jolt up your spine and, still riddled by your first high, your body is quick to turn into shambles beneath him. Your hands flail outward to grasp onto every inch of his body, hands slithering beneath the material of his shirt, fingernails to dig crescent shapes into his torso, then snaking downward to grasp at his bum, pulling him in closer each time he rolls his hips into yours.

“Joon…” Your voice is an exhausted moan when it meets his ear. He almost doesn’t hear it, instead too caught up in the way your panting breaths mingle with the crude wetness of his cock delving past your folds each time. Somewhere, once more, in the distance even closer this time is the sound of footsteps once more. The thought of someone walking in one you like this━Namjoon wedged between your thighs, drilling his leaking cock into your wet cunt and tearing you to utter shambles━does something chaotically good to you. “Not gonna last.”

“Me neither,” he gasps. “Don’t care. Just wanna cum. Just wanna feel you cum around me.”

His thrusts begin to tread into sloppy territory, fervently itching to get both of you off. You reach your second high first, tumbling towards it with open arms. You can’t contain yourself, the tempting moan dancing upon the tip of your tongue, burning in your throat as your orgasm twists at your belly. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna━”

But your voice splinters off into a delicious sounding whimper. Wary of being caught by your wandering friends when you’re both so close to being undone (because, really, the idea of someone else hearing you whimper because of how good his cock is exhilarates him), Namjoon’s hand clamps over your lips and you welcome it graciously, favouring the idea of his fingers poking into your mouth so that you have something to distract your moaning. It still comes, broken and inaudible, smothered by Namjoon’s hand, as your tongue lavs around his digits.

Now, you’re truly a sight to behold, making Namjoon’s length twitch amongst your walls. Exhausted, fucked out eyes gawk at him, too weak to carry on, instead jutting your hips forward to meet his with each thrust.

“Shit,” he whines. “Fuckin’ hell, Y/N━”

He comes moments later, frantic slaps of his own hips having him spilling his seed sloppily into your already wet cunt. The abrupt sensation as your own walls clenching so impossibly tight around him, he feels as if he can’t move, though it’s not as if he immediately plans to. Instead, after a few more rocky thrusts into you to ride out both of your highs, he collapses against your chest and you smooth your fingers delicately through his hair.

It’s a miracle when you both manage to finally pry themselves off of one another. As Namjoon hurries to tuck himself back into his jeans, you fidget with your bra and shirt, and then the hem of your skirt, tugging it as low as it can go. His cum is still warm and sticky between your legs, slowly beginning to run down your inner thighs.

You catch him looking at some point and ask curiously, “What?”

“Nothing,” he says innocently. “Just wondering how you still manage to look so beautiful even after having my cum fucked in you.”

You roll your eyes as you reach out to ruffle his messy hair in an attempt to tame the damage you’ve caused. He smiles wide at the effort anyway.

“Decent?” he asks.

“Good enough,” You say. “Now, let’s find the boys before anyone notices we were gone for too long.”

And this, he doesn’t disagree with.

Later, when you and Namjoon have regrouped with the rest of the boys back by the cars parked outside the asylum, everyone looks a little more on edge than when you left them. Except for maybe you and Namjoon. You wonder if the boys notice, judging by the way you and Namjoon keep giggling amongst yourselves.

“So,” Jungkook says, “did you guys find anything?”

“Nothing,” Jin admits. “Just freaked out Jimin a little bit more.”

The boy in question can be seen scowling to himself, arms folded over his chest. “All I gotta say is screw this place.”

Hoseok looks indifferent as he reviews a recording on the camera in his hands. When he speaks, his voice is a casual drawl. “Dunno. Thought we heard some suspiciously loud moaning from one part of that building that I’m almost positive Namjoon and Y/N were exploring.”

At this, Taehyung bursts out into wolfish laughter, only prompted further by your sudden horrified expression that you try to play off nonchalantly and fail miserably at doing. So they had heard you two after all? “Ha! They sure were exploring something.”

While the rest of the boys look either intrigued or rightfully confused, Namjoon shakes his head defiantly. “Nah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Resisting the urge to hide behind your hands, you bite your tongue and try to sift through your brain for something else to discuss. Over the childish giggling sounding from Taehyung and Hoseok, you ask, “Well, did you guys find anything? Thought we heard you exploring the third floor.”

“Third floor?” Hoseok echoes, dumbfounded. “We didn’t get that far.”

“But I could have sworn I heard you guys.”

Hoseok’s brows knit together. He exchanges a look with Taehyung, then returns his stare to you. “You probably heard Tae screaming like a lunatic because a spider was on him. We were only in there long enough to try the spirit box out again, but that was on the second floor. Then the spider thing happened. Then, we left.”

Now, this is alarming. You gap at the boys as your mind tries to piece together the puzzles of this dilemma. Had you heard the boys, or perhaps something else entirely? Or maybe it was just your imagination. Namjoon did say your mind plays tricks on you ━ but the sound of footsteps had been so vivid.

Even Namjoon looks stupefied, gawking at Hoseok. “Wait, you’re not joking, are you?”

“No,” Taehyung shakes his head. “We were filming the whole time. We can show you. Are you guys joking?”

“No,” You promise. “We were━ Erm━ We got distracted. We weren’t really paying much attention but━”

You’re fortunate when Yoongi decides to speak up, interrupting your embarrassed stammering. “So then what did you guys hear…?

A beat of silence passes amongst your group of friends. One-by-one, you each turn to look up at the haunting asylum still standing behind you, the night blurring its shape into one incomprehensible monstrosity. Okay, so maybe the ghost stories about this place are true. A shiver runs down your spine.

Then━

“So does that mean the ghost is a Peeping Tom or━?” Jungkook asks. You wonder if you should be concerned by his serious tone.

The boys howl with laughter at the thought, though you’re still admittedly a little shaken up by the idea of a ghost watching you and Namjoon bone. Maybe you asked for it, what with deciding to have a quickie in a haunted asylum.

“I don’t know, but can we please get out of here?” You press thinly. “Jimin was right. Screw this place.”

If the boys are as deeply unsettled by yours and Namjoon’s sudden revelation, you don’t know. You all manage to pack up your belongings and clamber in the cars in record timing, speeding away from the asylum unscathed. And if you really did just witness a ghost encounter, then you suppose it isn’t all that bad.

At the very least, Namjoon’s video does make it to the trending page.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

946 notes · View notes

greengrayeyeswrites · 3 years

Text

shit-faced in love (chapter five)

Title: shit-faced in love

Pairing: Corpse Husband x OC (fem!youtuber!reader)

Word Count: 1,158

Warnings: Mental Health/Mental Illnesses are a big topic in this story. Mentions of depression, bpd and other mental illnesses. Angst, Fluff.

Note: This may be a Corpse x OC story but feel free to insert yourself into the main girls role. If Corpse ever announces that he doesn’t like fanfics about him, I’ll delete this.

Prologue — Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6

Author’s Note: Hello guys! I am very, very sorry that I didn’t update this any sooner. I’ve had a lot of troubles with my mental health lately, especially my bpd acting up and making me feel so worthless I wanted to punch myself in the face with a chair... But I thought that I need to get my shit back together and post a new chapter. I am really sorry about the delay. All these likes I am getting on a story that I mainly write for myself is overwhelming... so a massive thank you!

Also HAPPY BIRTHDAY CORPSE!

— — —

Imogen ended up being MIA for two whole days. She didn’t update her Twitter after cancelling the stream and didn’t upload anything on her Instagram story and her feed.

The day after her bad mood swing she stayed at home and Baylee came over. The two girls were spending the day on the couch watching silly old-school romcoms; Buddy sitting in between them in case Imogen needed him.

They were watching movie after movie, falling asleep in between and Imogen felt bad for Baylee. She apologized for being so unmotivated, boring and weird today but Baylee quickly shook her head and told her that it was okay.

Imogen couldn’t believe how happy she was to have Baylee as her friend, but since she was shifting from black to white thinking and back to black, she couldn’t really feel the happiness she knew existed somewhere.

All she felt was emptiness and sadness. The episode lasted four whole hours and Imogen fell asleep crying in the middle of it.

On her final day in Houston, Imogen and Baylee decided to go shopping and Imogen wanted to spoil her best friend. She got her a new computer and a new phone—which Baylee couldn’t quite believe. But Imogen was persistent and wanted her to keep the things.

Imogen then rented a beautiful NCT green colored Jeep Wrangler; which the girls immediately tried out when they were driving to the Space Center Houston for their last day.

„You almost sounded like MrBeast, when you gave me the phone and Macbook“ Baylee chuckled, as the girls looked for a parking lot in front of the Space Center. „I mean I’m meeting him and the crew next week for the first time, so I have to practice“, Imogen grinned, feeling way happier then a few days back.

„D’you already know what you’re doing with them?“ Baylee asked, but Imogen shook her head, when her phone rang with a message notification.

„Would you mind?“ Imogen asked nodding towards her phone, that was peeking out of her totebag in front of Baylee’s feet. Buddy was lifting his head from the backseat, looking at his owner and her friend.

„You got a voice message from Corpse“ Baylee read the notification on the lock screen and Imogen gulped. „Would you mind playing it?“ The twenty-eight year old asked and Baylee nodded, unlocking Imogen’s phone and pressing play.

The first thing both girls could hear was shuffling in the background before Corpse’s deep voice rang in their ears. „Whaddup baby?“, he asked and a shiver went through Imogen’s body, while she maneuvered the car into a parking lot.

Baylee slapped her hand over her mouth, staring at Imogen in shock. Hearing his go-to phrase so close to her ears and so intimate was kinda scary. Baylee felt like she was eavesdropping.

„How are you feeling?“ Corpse asked, „We were kinda worried when you didn’t respond to the group chat. I know I go MIA as well but you usually told us what was wrong. Rae was worried and I was as well. Please text us soon, so we don’t have to worry anymore.“

A quiet breath left his lips and Imogen looked over to Baylee, who was still covering her mouth. „I hope you finish your MrBeast stuff soon. I want to meet you real quick!“ Corpse finished the message and the phone screen turned black.

„Oh my god“ Baylee let out and stared at Imogen. „I felt so bad for listening, Mo!“ She cried out and Imogen gulped. „I feel so bad for not telling them what happened. I know how worried they get when I don't text!“ Imogen shook her head.

„Here, here!“ Baylee pressed the phone into Imogen’s hands. „Text them now! Tell them how you’re feeling and what you’re up to today!“ Baylee turned around to Buddy.

„Buddy, I can’t believe I heard Corpse speak like that! He was genuinely worried!“ Imogen watched her best friend and shook her head.

She had to be honest. Hearing Corpse’s voice like that made her heart jump a little bit. What was he doing with her? She didn’t even know what he looked like, yet he made her heart do weird dancy-dances.

She knew Baylee was watching her, while she typed into her phone. She knew Baylee wanted to know what she wrote—and she would’ve told her, if she wouldn’t be so shy about it.

When the women came home this night, Baylee decided to crash over in Imogen’s AirBnB. They stayed up most of the night and talked about everything and nothing. They were talking about Baylee’s crush on her co-worker, that didn’t even notice her presence. They spoke about Imogen’s therapy and medication and how Buddy had helped her out of so many dark places already; and then, as the sun was about to rise again, they fell asleep.

— — —

They woke up to Buddy licking their faces, wagging with his tail only a few hours later. Baylee sat up and looked at Imogen, fighting her dog off her.

„You know what? I’m going to miss you.“ Imogen finally got Buddy off her and looked at Baylee. Tears filled her best friends eyes and Imogen looked at her. „Bay“, she whispered and crushed her best friend in a hug. „This week went by way too fast“ Baylee cried into Imogen’s shoulder. „I swear, before I go back to Ireland, I’ll take you on a vacy to Hawaii. So be prepared to take a few days off, once I’m done with my travel!“

Imogen started laughing and Baylee grinned. „Gotcha!“

After having a breakfast together, Baylee helped Imogen pack her stuff and load it into the Wrangler. Imogen was fastening Buddy in the backseat, when she closed the door behind her and hugged Baylee once more.

„Take care, Mo.“ Baylee said and squished Imogen’s cheeks. „I will.“ - „No, I’m serious. When you feel low or sad or empty , turn off the cameras and hold Buddy. Okay?“

Imogen smiled. „I will. Thank you, Bay.“ The girls hugged once more, Baylee clinging on to Imogen as if her life depends on it. „I just wish I could quit my retail job and follow you around, being your camera woman or something.“ Baylee sighed and Imogen looked at her.

Imogen’s brain buzzed. „Keep that in mind, Bay. Okay? I’d even pay you.“ Baylee looked at Imogen and the Irish lass grinned. „Whatever you say, big girl“ Baylee grinned and softly banged the side of the Wrangler.

„Go and take the NCTzen car through the states.“ Baylee grinned and stepped aside to her own car. Imogen grinned and climbed into the Wrangler.

„Good luck on these 1,270 miles!“ Balyee yelled, as Imogen turned on the engine. „Take breaks in between okay?“ Imogen nodded and started backing out of the driveway.

Baylee disappeared into the distance and a piece of Imogen’s heart broke, when she left Houston behind.

to be continued...

Taglist: @wineandionysus @chanbaeol @rexit-mo

#corpse husband #corpse husband fandom #corpse fandom #corpse fanfiction #corpse husband imagines #corpse #fanfiction #imagine #corpse x reader #corpse x oc #corpse x you #corpse x yn #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x oc #corpse husband x you #corpse huisband x yn

95 notes · View notes

cutelittlestar · 4 years

Text

Steal My Girl || Peter Parker x Reader {Smut!}

Summary: While on a trip, Peter plans to confess his feelings to you but everything is ruined by a boy who also has his eyes on you. Once Peter finally unveils the truth, things get steamy...

Word Count: 5.7k

Warning(s): fem!reader, fluff, slight angst, SMUT, language, MATURE CONTENT, 18+ (you & Peter are 18)

A/N: lordtt.....plz forgive me, for I have sinned. This has been secretly written in my notebook for quite some time, and I was always too scared to post it online. Now, I say fuck it. As always, I love you all and I hope you enjoy!!!😘💕❤️

For those of you who may be wondering about my other series, Maniac and Lone Wolf, it may be a while bc of college and work (being an adult SUCKS). But, I promise I’ll try and upload the chapters whenever I can!

*gif is not mine!

Once again, Midtown’s decathlon team was given another opportunity to travel to a different state for a tournament, where they would compete with other high schools for the national title. Peter was extremely excited because this was your first trip with the team, and he wanted you to have an unforgettable experience; that’s why Peter created a meticulous yet worthy plan that would help him accomplish his goal. His plan consisted of various things, such as taking you to popular locations, exploring the city late at night -despite curfew- and doing spontaneous activities he knew you would love. Most importantly, Peter made this plan in hopes that he could confess his feelings for you. He’s had a crush on you since freshman year, but he was always terrified to tell you the truth. Now that senior year was almost over, the pain of withholding his raw emotions was too unbearable to handle. It’s now or never, Peter thought to himself, and for a while, Peter believed his plan was going to work.

But, he was wrong.

Peter’s plan began to crumble the minute that Daniel Miller entered the picture. Daniel was everything that Peter wasn’t - he was perfect, a star-athlete, tall, and he had an impeccable character that made him lovable. Every girl had a huge crush on him, and they had every right to find him appealing. In the beginning, Peter didn’t really seem to care about Daniel, but now that Daniel was purposefully sabotaging Peter’s plan, Peter was beyond angry. Anytime that Peter was with you, you were whisked away by Daniel for various idiotic reasons.

The first time Daniel took you away, he lied and asked if you could switch seats with Flash because he was ‘severely’ allergic to peanut butter crackers. You, of course, offered to change seats, completely unaware that Daniel was luring you towards him. Peter felt his blood boil; he clearly remembers seeing Daniel eat a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup a couple of days before. The second time Daniel took you away, you were sitting next to Peter in the dining hall at the hotel before Daniel ‘accidentally’ spilled hot coffee all over his body; once again, you fell for his trap, and you offered to help him, despite Daniel being eighteen years old. The third time Daniel took you away, you were watching a movie with Peter; Daniel somehow convinced you that he needed your help and asked if you could quiz him for the upcoming competition, to which you agreed. Every single time that Daniel succeeded, he would give Peter a relish sneer, mentally gloating that he had successfully stolen you away.

Although Peter absolutely hated Daniel with every fiber of his soul, It’s not like Peter was going to force you to stop talking to Daniel - that would be a dick move - but if Peter had the chance to throw Daniel off a building, he would happily do it in a heartbeat. However, as you were spending more time with Daniel instead of Peter, Peter’s hope was gradually disappearing.

Now, Peter morosely sat in his hotel room alone, imagining Daniel constantly flirting with you the whole afternoon and evening. By making up a quick lie and telling Mr. Harrington that he had a stomach ache, Peter was able to sulk in his room while the rest of the group was exploring tourist areas in the city before the big competition. Peter had come to believe that Daniel had won and decided there was no point of trying to win you back; there was no way that you would ever love him, Peter thought to himself, not when Daniel is still around.

Meanwhile, as Peter was sadly believing that Daniel was now professing his love for you, you were sitting on your bed, your room right in front of Peter’s door, completely unaware that Peter stayed behind as well. You, too, lied and said that you were feeling sick, but in reality, you wanted some time away from Daniel. He was becoming extremely annoying, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. While you assumed that you were going to have some peace and quiet, that dream was utterly destroyed. As usual, Flash opened his big mouth and told Daniel that you were in your hotel room, so now, you were sitting inches away from Daniel as a movie was playing in the background. You pretended to listen to the movie, but you constantly thought about Peter, wondering how he was doing. You felt horrible for leaving Peter alone so many times, and you wanted to apologize but you never had the chance to.

“You okay, Y/N?” Daniel confronted, noticing how your eyes were not watching the screen. You rapidly blinked, turning to look at Daniel before giving him a half-hearted smile.

“‘M fine, just thinking about Peter,” you honestly confessed, hoping that Daniel would further question you, wondering why you were so worried about Peter. Instead, he said the exact opposite.

“Meh, don’t worry about Parker right now. It’s just you and me, pretty girl.” You let out a frustrated sigh, to which Daniel didn’t pick up, and you mentally rolled your eyes, hating how Daniel always changed the topic whenever you would bring up Peter. If you knew that Daniel had this fuckboy persona, you never would’ve given him the time of day. You remained quiet and glued your eyes to the screen, hoping that Daniel wouldn’t notice your disinterest in the horrible movie he picked out. You faked a laugh as something ‘hilarious’ showed up on the screen, but then you felt your phone vibrate on the nightstand. You leaned towards the furniture, detaching your phone from the charger and unlocking your phone. MJ sent you a text; you assumed she sent you a photo of where they were at, but when you read the message, a frown settled on your face.

Peter is in his room right now, very upset. Do you think you could check up on him?

Without needing any more information, you turned off your phone and jumped out of the bed. You turned to look at Daniel, who paused the movie, and you gave him an apologetic look, hoping that he would understand what you were about to tell him.

“I’m sorry, Danny, but I just got a text from MJ. Peter is upset and I have to make sure he’s okay.”

“What?” Daniel responded in an annoying tone, hating that Peter, once again, was ruining his plans. “Are you serious right now? We’re watching a movie, you can’t just leave me here.”

You glared at Daniel, deeply despising the way he spoke to you, but you bit your lip, not wanting to argue back and forth. You slipped on your shoes and proceeded to ignore Daniel’s snarky attitude.

‘Daniel, I don’t get why you’re so mad. I’m checking up on one of my closest friends, what’s your fucking deal?” you snapped at him, causing Daniel to lean back in shock.

“My deal?” Daniel angrily repeated. “My deal is that you’re paying too much attention to him. We’re having a great time together, I just hate that Peter is getting in the way of that.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to believe that Daniel actually thought you were having a great time. The boy merely spoke about himself and nothing else, and you found him extremely boring. You let out a laugh, to which he didn’t like, but you didn’t give a fuck anymore. “Danny,” you started, “don’t try to control what I do. I’m leaving and that’s final.”

You angrily grabbed your phone, ignoring his protests and pleads, but just as you were about to open the door, the idiot had the nerve to open his mouth once again.

“Whatever, go run to Peter. But, I promise you this, he can’t show you a good time like how I can.”

You remained still, feeling your blood boil due to his vulgar comment. You were trying your hardest not to chuck your phone at his face, but instead, you turned around and gave him a smirk.

“I doubt that, Danny. From what I heard, you barely have four inches,” you retorted before opening the door and slamming it shut.

You mumbled curse words under your breath, wishing you could’ve smacked Daniel across the face, but Peter was your top priority. In a quick second, you were now standing in front of Peter’s door, and you anxiously knocked on it. Peter was pulled out of his thoughts once he heard someone knocking, and he got up off of his bed and walked towards the door, opening it halfway. To say the least, Peter was surprised to see you standing right in front of him, and he wondered why you were back so early. Judging by your irritated face, Peter knew something was on your mind and you wanted to get it off of your chest, so he moved to the side and fully opened the door. You walked inside, continuing to spew out profanities, but then you closed your mouth, remembering why you were here.

“Peter, is something bothering you? MJ told me you were upset,” you said, causing Peter to stiffen. Peter hoped that MJ didn’t tell you the real reason he was upset, but he remained quiet, wanting you to continue speaking. You walked towards the bed and plopped down, patting the empty spot next to you, signaling Peter to sit down. Peter obeyed, and you instantly leaned into him, laying your head on his shoulder.

“You can tell me anything, Peter. I’ll listen,” you remarked, hoping that Peter would tell you the truth. You hated seeing him sad, and you were willing to do anything to make him happy. Peter let out a big breath, slowly working up the courage to say what’s been on his chest for the past four years. You lifted your head, shifting your body so that you were now fully facing him. You watched as a shaky Peter was fidgeting with his fingers.

“You want me to be completely honest?” Peter timidly whispered, deciding that now was finally the time to say he’s had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You nodded your head, eager to know the cause of his sorrows.

“Yes, of course, Pete,” you replied, getting anxious by the second as Peter was stalling time. Peter bit his lower lip, not knowing how to perfectly form his emotions into words, but when he opened his mouth, everything came spewing out.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day I saw you, and I made this very tedious plan to confess my feelings for you while we were on this trip - but then fucking Daniel ruined everything - and that’s the reason why I’ve been so moody. I was going to take you to various places in the city - and I even bought you a bracelet with our initials on it - but now that I’m saying it out loud, that’s kinda creepy and I’m sorry, and I’m rapidly speaking so I can run away from the inevitable - which is you turning me down because you don’t feel the same way.” Peter heavily panted as he finished his rant, but there was a long moment of silence as you stared at Peter with wide eyes.

“No fucking way,” you breathed out, unable to register what Peter was saying. All of this time, you thought that Peter didn’t like you, but when he finally admitted his feelings, you were completely taken aback. Holy fuck, you thought to yourself, Peter loves me. Peter loves me.

“I know, I know-,” Peter sorrowfully replied, rubbing his forehead, hurt that you were ridiculing him because of the way he felt about you. “It’s hilarious that a guy like me thinks that he can get with a girl like you. Hahaha, but it hurts, Y/N, I have feelings an-”

“Peter,” you interrupted him, moving closer until you were inches away from his face. Peter closed his mouth, feeling his heart rapidly beat in his chest as he began to cherish every feature on your face; his heart felt like it was going to explode due to the lack of distance, but you didn’t seem to mind. In fact, you loved the effect you were having on Peter. You delicately placed your hands on his chest, and you discreetly remained calm, despite you being able to feel how strong his chest was.

“I love you, too” you heartedly declared, anxiously smiling as you waited for Peter to respond. You watched the corner of his lips curve upwards, and you lovingly stared into Peter’s eyes, noticing the crinkles around his eyes become more prominent when he grinned, and you absolutely adored it. He was like a ray of sunshine, his smile was more than his mouth; it was his voice and his words, and it was utterly beautiful.

His eyes briefly widened, but then they became soft as he now watched your cheeks turn pink like a spring tulip.

“Are you like, serious? You’re not messing with me right now?” Peter managed to say, unable to accept that the girl of his dreams just told him she liked him. You let out a slight chuckle, running your hands up until they peacefully rested on Peter’s neck; you slowly leaned your forehead against his, deeply staring into his eyes.

“I’m a hundred percent serious, Peter. I love you so fucking much.” You drew Peter towards you as much as you could, and in the first second, he inhaled your enticing scent. It smelled pleasant, light, and refreshing - there was a slight hint of fruitiness, but it wasn’t overbearing nor masking your natural scent. The next second, your lips are on Peter’s, and he openly invites you into his arms. For such a long time, Peter kisses you with such delicately and tenderness, and you didn’t want to pull away. This felt right, and you knew that Peter felt the same way. Peter was your perfect guy, and you were going to make sure he knew that every single day of his life until the day he dies.

Peter departs his lips from yours, despite you moaning for more, and he takes a moment to lovingly stares into your eyes, gingerly holding your face in his hands. Your eyes sparkled with delight, and if Peter could, he would freeze this moment forever, never wanting to move forward. Although Peter’s plans didn’t go the way he wanted it to, the outcome was, nonetheless, just as beautiful as he imagined it.

“Kiss me again, Peter,” you quietly demanded.

Peter leans into your touch, finding your lips once again - but then something inside of you changes. The soft tender kiss turned into a vicious, needy make-out session. The sweet, timid, and friendly girl Peter used to know was completely gone and was now replaced with a rough and aroused one. You gradually climbed onto Peter’s lap as you hungrily kissed him, and you feel a patch of wetness drip onto your underwear as your tongues fight for dominance. Peter is so enticed on kissing you that he fails to notice one of your hands firmly grasping his cock through his pants. The sudden touch causes Peter to ripple out a low groan, and you smile into the kiss, content that you were able to make Peter wither from just a single touch.

You repeat the same noise at a higher pitch as Peter roughly rubs your ass, disconnecting his lips before attacking your neck. You throw your head back in utter bliss, granting Peter more access, and you feel a bruise form as Peter continues to suck on a particular spot. While one hand is stroking Peter’s enormous cock, the other hand snakes its way under his shirt; another moan comes out of Peter’s mouth, and you loved hearing it.

In a blink of an eye, Peter’s shirt is on the ground, and yours follows as well. You push him down against the bed, and you seductively crawl towards him until you’re straddling his waist.

Your lips reconnect once more, and Peter’s fingers manage to unclasp your bra, which he recklessly tosses to the ground. “Peter,” you moaned in delight as his hands raked over your exposed chest, firmly gripping your breasts. Just as Peter is about to place his lips on your sensitive bud, a loud banging on the door prevents him from doing so. You let out a gasp, frightened at the sound, but then you hear the voice yell.

“Open up, Parker!” Daniel angrily announced, continuing to slam his fist on the door. “I know Y/N is in there! We need to talk.” You and Peter stare at each other, not knowing what to do, but then you vividly remembered Daniel’s words. I promise you this, he can’t show you a good time like how I can. A smirk grows on your face as you think of an elaborate and mischievous plan. Oh, you were going to prove him wrong. As Daniel kept screaming, demanding you to come out of the room, Peter became exasperated, completely annoyed that Daniel was ruining your intimate moment. Finally, Peter lets out an irritated groan, but just as he’s about to move you to the side so he can answer the door, you place your hands on his chest.

“Don’t move, I have an idea,” you say with a sly smug, but before Peter can ask you what your plan was, you let out a loud, compelling, and pornographic moan.

“Oh, God! Peter!” you yelled in pure ecstasy, grabbing your breasts in the process to keep you riled up. “Don’t stop! Keep going, baby.” The banging immediately stops, and you mentally give yourself a pat on the back, knowing that on the other side of the door, Daniel was extremely jealous, embarrassed, and frustrated. Peter’s eyes widen in shock at your reaction, but he’s ultimately aroused once more, loving how you wanted Daniel to know that he was fulfilling your sexual desires.

Peter disregards Daniel’s presence and attaches his lips on your nipple, causing you to loudly sigh in bliss as Peter sucks on it. The fake moans you were forming were now real, and you held Peter’s head in your chest as his finger roughly rubbed the other nipple.

“Fuck-” you loudly whined, unintentionally rubbing yourself on Peter’s crotch. A hefty groan comes out of Peter, and he detaches his lips from your breasts, easily lifting you up with one hand while the other begins to undo his pants. You mirror his actions, doing the same to your pants, tossing your bottoms and underwear to the floor. Peter wiggled out of his pants and boxers, his cocks twitching and springing up as your exposed core slowly rubbed itself on his shaft. You can already see the pre-cum forming at the head, and you eagerly lick your lips, wanting to wrap your mouth around his member.

Suddenly, Peter grabs you by the waist and flips you over so that he’s on top. As you expect him to unleash all of his strength onto you, Peter delicately kisses you, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. While his touches send shivers down your spine, melting your heart, you’re impatient, wanting more. You softly push him away, and for a moment, Peter thinks he’s done something wrong.

“What is it? Did I do something wrong?” Peter anxiously asked, scanning your face to see if he could detect what was bothering you. You bit your lip in anticipation, petrified that if you said what was on your mind, it would ruin the mood. A million reasons swirled around his mind and he feared that he’s gone too far; he assumed you didn’t feel comfortable anymore to continue your sexual activities. What Peter failed to realize was that you didn’t regret anything. “Tell me, baby,” Peter reassured you, placing light kisses on your face and neck. You cave into his touch, and you feel your muscles relax.

“I want you,” you started off, raking your fingers across his chest. “But, I need rough sex, Peter,” you needily whimpered, biting your lip in the process, causing Peter to lean back, his eyes widening. “Please, fuck me as hard as you can. I want Daniel to know how good you’re fucking me.”

You intently stare at Peter’s face, scared that he was going to say no, but then you notice his pupils dilate, his eyes darkening as he listened to your words. The mere mention of Daniel’s name caused Peter to shake from rage, but then something switched inside of Peter, and a huge grin spread across his face.

“Damn Y/N,” Peter replies, biting his lower lip. A small moan escapes Peter’s mouth as he realizes what you’re asking of him, and he absolutely loves it; Peter feels his cock twitch from excitement as he repeated your words over and over again in his mind, and it drove him insane. Peter couldn’t believe it; here he was, thinking you were going to be an innocent girl, but oh no - he was wrong, and boy did he love it. Peter bit his lip in hunger, his eyes taking in your body once more. The thought of mercilessly pounding into you without anything stopping him caused more pre-cum to leak out of his cock, and Peter was more than prepared to grant you what so deeply desired.

“As you wish, darling.” Peter peppered kisses against the nape of your neck and before you know it, Peter firmly grabs you by the neck. You let out a soft gasp at his sudden change of behavior, but then a whimper escapes out of you as Peter crashes his lips onto yours, and you allow him to take full control.

“Fuck Peter.” You moan as you buck your hips up, needing him to be inside of you. You were becoming impatient, but Peter darkly chuckled as he brought his face close to yours.

“Oh no baby,” he scolds, a smirk forming on his face. “I’ll be inside you when I want to. You understand?” You feel as if you’re about to cry out in pain and pleasure, but you’re willing to do anything for Peter. You frantically nod your head, hoping it will satisfy Peter.

Peter’s grip got tighter, unhappy that you didn’t verbally respond. “You better speak right now or I swear, I’ll tease you until you’re a crying mess.”

“Yes, Peter. I understand, baby,” you affirmed as Peter hummed in satisfaction. Peter slowly released the tight grip he had before rummaging through the nightstand. Peter pulls out a condom but before you even have time to ask him where he got it, he tears it open with his mouth and puts on the safety. Without any warning or hesitation, Peter roughly turns you around, your chest pressed down against the bed. You immediately understand what he wants, and you quickly get on all fours, laying your head on the pillow and perking your ass up, giving Peter a complete view of your core. Peter groans at the sight as you flirtatiously wiggle your bare ass in front of him, and he leans back to admire the view for a short moment.

“Look at you,” he seductively whispered, causing you to become even more aroused as his words drip out of his mouth like sweet honey. “All ready for me, such a good girl.”

Suddenly, Peter slams into you, and you let out the loudest noise you’ve ever made, finally satisfied that he was inside you. However, Peter doesn’t move, allowing you to adjust to his large size, but you cry out in frustration, wanting him to pound into you mercilessly. You attempt to move, but Peter roughly grabs your hips, refraining you. Peter lets out a heavy exhalation, absolutely melting into you as he felt your pretty folds swallow him up. It was majestic.

“Shit,” Peter mutters, “You’re so tight, Y/N.” Peter slowly begins to move, but in an instant, his pace starts to accelerate. Peter pounds into your cunt; it was ruthless, exhilarating, and animalistic, and you rolled your eyes in utter pleasure, your mouth hanging open.

You’re a writhing mess, spelling out incoherent words as Peter tightly held onto your waist and slammed into you. You knew there was going to be bruises due to his death grip, but the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you made you totally forget. The slight pain was gone as pleasure overstimulated your body, and you arched your back in response, repeating Peter’s name. You clamped onto the sheets for dear life, your head laying on the pillows, your sounds being muffled. The sound of skin slapping echoed around the room, and Peter gasps and curses, becoming a panting mess as he doesn’t intend on stopping anytime soon.

Peter grabs a handful of your hair, forcing your head off the pillow, and your moans become louder. “That’s right,” Peter reassured, releasing your hair and moving his hand towards your neck. “Scream for me, baby. Let him know who’s fucking you this good.”

“Ah, Peter! Faster, please! Ohh fuck Peter, shit!“ you scream, holding onto his arm for support.

“Can Daniel fuck you like this?” Peter asked, digging his knees deeper into the bed and moving his hips at a faster rate. Peter’s cock was stretching you out, and you were loving every minute of it.

“No! Peter -Shit!- only you can! Only you can make me feel like this.” You cry out in pleasure, your hair sticking to your sweaty back and chest. Peter groans in satisfaction, your words encouraging him to move faster.

“Exactly, you’re fucking mine - all mine.” Your walls contract around him at his words, and Peter feels a familiar feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. He detaches himself from you, pulling out for a brief moment before forcing you to lay on your back. Peter’s hand gingerly returns to your waist, savoring this moment. Both of you heavily pant as you stare into each other’s eyes, and Peter leans in, passionately kissing you.

“Shit Peter!” you squeal in shock as you feel his cock enter you without hesitation, your nails clutching onto his contracting muscles.

“Whose pussy is this?” Peter grunted, fully slamming his cock into your pussy. A high pitch scream comes out of your mouth but you’re unable to form coherent words, completely discombobulated. Peter’s cock perfectly fills you up, and you desperately stare into his eyes, digging your sharp nails in his back. “I said,” Peter angrily repeated, tightly squeezing your neck. “Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours,” you mewl as you began to feel a knot form in your stomach.

“That’s right, baby,” Peter asserted, sweat trickling down his face, chest, and back. You closed your eyes, completely aroused by Peter’s rough side, and Peter couldn’t help but trace over your body. He admired the way your breasts bounced as he pounded into you, the way your face contorted in total ecstasy, and the way your hair was a mess - a mess that he made from fucking you so good.

“I’m so close, baby -Fuck I’m s-so close-“ You feel the knot get stronger. Peter continues to thrust into you, watching as your eyes roll to the back of your head. Peter’s fingers find its way to your clit, rapidly rubbing circles, and you let out a whine.

“Come for me, darling. Come all over my cock,” Peter coaxed you, his words sending you over the edge. Your hands grip onto his arms for dear life as you let out a throat-ripping moan, your body shaking in the process. Peter comes right after you, his hands resting beside your head, firmly clutching onto the sheets as he, too, let out a groan. Peter’s body collapses onto yours, and your fingers find its way to the curls at the back of his head, burying themselves in his smooth hair. For a while, the room goes silent, and all you can hear are the heavy pants coming out of your mouths. Peter is still inside you, but you don’t mind at all. Peter’s body slowly rises and falls as he comes down from his high, and his hands cradle your face; Peter leaves a sloppy yet passionate kiss, and once again, you melt into his arms.

You whimper as you feel Peter’s member pull out, and you watch as Peter wobbly stands up to throw away the condom. You intently stare at his chest as he walks back to you, and you notice the fresh scratch marks you left. You feel your cheeks turn red, but Peter gives you a soft smile, mentally telling you that it was fine. Finally, Peter gets back into bed and pulls the covers over your bodies. Your turn to lay on his side, lovingly gazing into his eyes.

“Wow,” was all you managed to say, “That was fucking amazing.” Peter lets out a chuckle, becoming flustered as you continued to praise him.

“Do you think Daniel heard?” you wondered, softly rubbing Peter’s chest.

“I think the whole floor heard,” Peter truthfully responded, scratching the back of his head. You lightly laugh at his comment, your eyes glistening with joy, before pressing a tender kiss on Peter’s lips. Good, you thought to yourself, now everyone knows how great Peter is at sex.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “Did I hurt you?” Your heart melted in your chest as you realized how worried Peter was. You shook your head, easing him. “I’m fine, Peter.” However, the dryness of your throat made it hard for you to speak, and Peter knew that you needed something to drink.

“Let’s get you something to drink, there’s a vending machine right out the door,” Peter offered, to which you accepted. You were desperately craving water, but you also fancied a small snack to munch on. Peter and you got out of bed -despite how sore your bodies were - and you instinctively bent down and grabbed your underwear and Peter’s shirt. Peter felt an enormous grin grow on his face as he watched you, and you returned the smile when you felt his eyes on you.

You walked towards the door with nothing but his shirt and underwear whereas Peter was only wearing his boxer shorts; just as you opened the door and stepped out of the room, with Peter right behind you, your eyes landed on Daniel, who, as well, opened your hotel door the exact moment you did. Daniel tightly clutched his book bag, but as he turned around to head down the hallway, his eyes found yours. He deeply stared, noticing how your makeup was smeared, your hair was tangled, and Peter’s chest was covered with scratches and bruises.

You broke eye-contact, your face expressionless, as you turned to the left, heading towards the vending machine that was feet away from where you stood.

Peter bitterly glared down Daniel, but then Peter mirrored your movements, leaning against the machine. Peter took notice of how Daniel was glued to the floor, and Peter flared his nostrils, disliking how Daniel continued to gawk at you.

Yet, Peter didn’t mind that you were only wearing his t-shirt in the middle of the hallway. He knew Daniel had a perfect view of your ass, which was barely covered by the thin fabric, but Peter didn’t care because he knew that the moment you entered his hotel room, he was going to relentlessly fuck you again until you couldn’t walk anymore. As you were still deciding what snack to choose from, Peter slightly turned his head to the side, a smug expression cemented on his face as he watched Daniel awkwardly stand in front of your door. Daniel’s face was bright red, most likely due to his rage of knowing what you and Peter were doing, but Peter remained unbothered, rejoicing that he was able to rile up Daniel with so much ease.

Peter sent a coy wink to Daniel as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his arms and placing sloppy kisses on your exposed neck while still holding eye-contact with Daniel. You leaned your head back, exposing more skin for Peter, knowing fully well of what he was trying to do. However, you didn’t object at all. A pool of your wetness started to drip onto your underwear, and you softly let out a discreet moan as Peter’s hand tightly clutched your ass. You loved how Peter was gloating to Daniel, reveling in the fact that you were Peter’s and only his. Your lips curved upwards as you heard Daniel let out a huff of frustration, mumbling incoherent words as he stormed down the hallway.

Once Daniel was gone, you wrapped your arms around Peter’s neck, your fingers delicately playing with the strands of his hair as a giggle escaped from your lips. You placed a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away.

“You’re such an ass,” you joked, shaking your head as you divert your attention back to the vending machine. Peter shrugged his shoulders, not caring that Daniel was probably going to cry in his room, knowing you slipped away from his fingers. “Asshole deserves it,” Peter blankly declared. You bit your lip in frustration, your eyes glancing at the snacks before Peter rested his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist once again.

“C’mon baby,” Peter seductively whispered. His hands discreetly snuck underneath your shirt and his fingers started to play your nipples, slowing pitching them in the process. You let out a soft gasp, shocked that Peter had the courage to do this in the hallway, but then you felt yourself become aroused, ready to start round two. “We still have a few hours before everyone comes back,” Peter murmured, biting your earlobe in the process.

You let out a big sigh. “Screw it,” you said, quickly forgetting about the snack and grabbing Peter’s hand. Peter bit his lip, a devious smirk forming on his lips as you dragged him back to the room, eager to continue your previous activity.

Despite Peter’s plan not going accordingly, he was’t complaining. To say the least, Peter was fully satisfied, especially after the several rounds he had with you.

542 notes · View notes

inkedstarlight · 3 years

Text

Bittersweet: Chapter Twelve

Summary: With the New Year comes new changes: Azriel and Elain are now together, Nesta and Cassian have a moment, and someone new enters the mix. Notes: This was the longest I've gone without posting new content, but I'm back in the groove. I'm officially making Sundays my upload day, so look out for that! There will be a new chapter every week. I already have the next couple chapters written, and it will be a lot more consistent now. Read it here on AO3! Warnings: very brief mentions of PTSD and sexual assault Bittersweet Masterlist

January

It was the third week of the desolate, grey month of January. The snow arrived quickly and ruthlessly. The city of Boulder was coated in a thick layer of knee-deep snow, its surface glittering under the sun enough to blind a passerby. Nesta embraced the winter, but there was nothing more she hated than a frozen ground paired with a sunny sky. Going outside bundled in multiple layers only to return home a sweaty mess. It was a suffocating feeling, to be wearing a heavy coat under sunshine.

No, Nesta preferred the unforgiving version of the coldest season. She knew how to dress; she knew what to expect when she stepped outside. It was predictable. Easy.

With the New Year came new changes. To start, Elain and Azriel were now dating, which came as a surprise to no one. When Elain sidled up next to Nesta in the kitchen on New Year’s Day and bashfully told her that she and Azriel were officially together, Nesta just levelled her a look as if to say, No shit, Sherlock.

As much as she despised the fact that their lives were becoming inextricably connected with Feyre's little group, however, Nesta was happy for her sister. Azriel treated Elain like she walked on water. of course, in Nesta's mind, no one would ever be good enough for her sister. Azriel was just managing to wiggle his way over Nesta's impossibly high standards for Elain, the bastard.

He had been spending time at their apartment quite a bit. At first, he and Nesta didn’t speak much. They would both stare at their phones in silence when Elain went to the bathroom or checked on whatever was in the oven at the time.

It wasn’t until the day that Nesta returned home from work to see Azriel playing with Minx in the living room did they 'bond.' When Nesta made her way into the apartment, Azriel explained to her that Elain was switching over the laundry in the complex’s basement. She merely nodded, her piercing stare falling to Azriel's ankles where Minx was rubbing against. She could hear his purrs from where she stood. The fucking traitor.

Nesta watched them play before they began to talk about animals, which turned into shitting on Cassian (Azriel was most certainly joking, but Nesta’s jabs were 100% genuine), which then turned into complaining about the frequency of their little family dinners. Turns out Azriel isn't exactly a social butterfly but Nesta figured that out pretty quickly. When Elain returned with laundry basket in hand, she found Nesta showing off the tricks she’d taught Minx to Azriel, the latter of whom was quite impressed. And that’s how Nesta realized that she and Azriel had more in common than she would've guessed. They both preferred to be in the background, not drawing too much attention to themselves. To Nesta's delight, she also realized Azriel had just as sharp a tongue as she did. The only difference was he knew how to control himself. Although Nesta would never admit it, she could learn a thing or two from Azriel.

But all this was heavily dampened by the fact that Cassian kept worming his way into her life. She supposed it was normal to run into your neighbors, but she had a sneaking suspicion the man somehow memorized her entire schedule. Wherever she turned, he seemed to be there. The elevator was like their rendezvous spot. Nesta was tempted to take the staircase just to avoid him, but her stubborn ass refused to change a thing for him. Even if it was just two flights of stairs.

Cassian had caught her several times in the past weeks. She thought back to a few run-ins that she hadn’t managed to stop thinking about.

“It’s full,” Nesta said dryly, not bothering to look up from her phone. She knew who it was. Who else would go out of their way to enjoy her warm and welcoming presence?

Nesta was just getting back from a short shift she'd picked up at Rita’s. The elevator doors had been closing when Cassian’s foot shot out to stop them.

Cassian looked around at the empty elevator, his eyes finally landing on Nesta. “I think I can squeeze in.”

Nesta looked up from her phone to glare at him. He was wearing a maroon crew neck and medium wash jeans that were rolled up at the ankles. She spied a golden chain around his neck that just slightly peaked out of the sweater. She wondered if it was a cross. Was he religious?

Nesta caught herself before she could think more about it. She didn’t care; she had no interest in getting to know this man. And she knew the feeling was mutual.

She just cleared her throat and looked down at her phone once again, determined to ignore his presence.

Unfortunately, Cassian was just as determined to make his presence known.

Eyes glued to her screen, Nesta did her best to stay as still as possible as she felt Cassian walk into the elevator. She was standing at the back corner, practically a part of the wall herself. Instead of stopping where there was plenty of room, however, he kept walking until he was right next to her. He leaned back against the wall, and Nesta caught a whiff of his cologne. It was warm and fresh and purely male.

She clenched her fist. He smelled good.

She hated that he smelled good.

"Calculating something?" he asked quietly. Nesta detected the amusement in his voice and restrained herself from putting him in a chokehold.

But she followed his gaze that was looking at her phone screen. Brows furrowed, she too looked at the screen.

Fuck.

Nesta hadn't even realized she'd been staring at the calculator app this entire time. When Cassian had gotten into the elevator, she'd opened a random app, a last-ditch attempt at looking busy so he wouldn’t bother her. That plan had clearly failed.

And with her shit luck, she opened the fucking calculator app.

"Yep," she cleared her throat again, scrambling for something to say. "Just figuring out how much it would cost to hire a bodyguard. You see, I have this stalker -"

"Is he handsome?" Cassian feigned ignorance, his lips twitching upward.

Nesta gritted her teeth at his interruption. "No, he's actually - "

"Charming, rugged, good-looking?" Cassian ran his eyes up and down her body and whistled in astonishment. "Wow, you must really like this guy."

She was going to punch him in the gods-damn throat. “You’re an asshole.”

He just stood there smiling at himself, eyes sparkling with mischief. His dark hair was loose, falling at his shoulders. It looked as though he’d been running his hands through it all day. Nesta’s fingers twitched.

She could acknowledge that Cassian was a good-looking man. She wasn't blind, though she would never admit that to him. His head was big enough as is. That being said, there was no appeal beyond his thick hair and fit body. It was a shame, really. Not to mention that Nesta was unable to look at a man with anything other than cynicism after everything that happened with Tomas.

Nesta stopped herself. She didn't need to think about that right now.

Coming back to reality, Nesta realized she'd been blatantly staring at Cassian this entire time, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. He chuckled deeply and angled his body so he was fully facing her. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

Nesta crossed her arms and snorted. Classy.

“Unfortunately for you, my appetite for arrogant meatheads dissipated during college.”

“Oh?” Cassian repeated with a smirk that Nesta wanted to slap right off. “And pray tell, what’s on your menu now?”

“Just the sweet satisfaction of destroying a man’s masculinity.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back with laughter. Nesta rolled her eyes just as the elevator dinged. She took the opportunity and quickly raced for the doors.

He was still laughing when the doors closed.

Nesta inwardly groaned at the memory. She’d acted like a dolt, but at least she’d gotten the last word in.

The next time they bumped into each other, however, things weren’t quite as playful.

Nesta couldn’t sleep. She’d been tossing and turning for hours, Minx shooting her glares every time she moved. But sleep refused to come.

With a frustrated groan, she rolled to the side of the bed and checked her phone that was charging on her nightstand.

3:38am.

Fucking ridiculous.

Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. She’d been having nightmares nearly every night for the past few weeks, only managing to get about four hours of sleep at most. It was enough that she could function during the day and go to work without passing out. Nevertheless, it was exhausting.

She did her best to untangle herself from the comforter and get up without waking Minx. He was sleeping at the foot of the bed, his entire body stretched out like dough. As she got up, she gave him some love. He didn’t even budge; he was a heavy sleeper.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel jealous.

Rubbing her face, she padded out to the kitchen slowly and poured herself a glass of water. She drank it slowly as she leaned against the counter.

After fifteen of staring into space, Nesta made her way to the fridge and opened it, the soft light glowing on her face.

She stared into the fridge for another ten minutes.

With a resigned sigh, Nesta slowly padded back to her room and closed the door behind her. She lazily pulled her long hair into a messy updo. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her laundry bin. It was overflowing.

She checked the time again. 4:17am.

Fuck it, she thought to herself as she bent down to pick up the laundry basket.

Nesta heaved it into her arms, grabbed the detergent, and made her way down to the complex’s basement where the laundry room was. She was wearing a grey sweater that completely swallowed her body and baggy sweatpants. Her slippers were cat themed. She couldn't care less.

After dumping her dirty clothes into the washing machine and starting it, Nesta sat on top of the empty machine to the left of it. She crossed her legs in her lap and put her hands in her face.

Gods, when was this going to end?

She would almost prefer a nightmare over this. It was the silence that was insufferable. With nightmares, she woke up, stayed awake for a couple hours, and finally fell asleep once her body calmed. But this? She didn’t trust herself to be alone with her thoughts for the entire night. It was never a good thing.

She was just sick of it. The exhaustion, the darkness, the loneliness. Her father’s death still gnawed at her every day. She hadn’t summoned the bravery to read those damn journals. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if she’d ever be.

And then Tomas. That horrible memory still surfaced several times a day. She couldn’t shake it; she never felt safe, even when she was in her bedroom. She hated it. Hated the lack of control, the loss of strength. She felt powerless. And without that, what did she even have?

The sound of footsteps disrupted her from her thoughts. Her head shot up as a body filled the doorway to the laundry room. It was Cassian.

He, too, looked like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. He looked comfortable in his Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and dark joggers. In his hand was a dryer sheet.

He stared at her. She stared back.

Neither of them said anything as he walked over to the washing machine to the right of the one her clothes were in. Nesta watched with half-lidded eyes as Cassian switched over his load of laundry to the dryer, swiping his card to pay for the cycle.

Once his clothes were tumbling around in the dryer, he straightened and faced her where she sat.

Nesta couldn't put her finger on it, but he seemed different. Not because it was the middle of the night and he was tired. No, there was something else. She just didn't know what.

“Can’t sleep?” he broke the silence, voice rough with exhaustion.

Nesta pursed her lips and nodded, looking away. She expelled a shaky breath. “You?”

Cassian seemed slightly taken aback by her question, but he hid it well. He took a few steps closer. There were still a couple feet between them, but now he was standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets.

“Me neither," he murmured, his hazel eyes capturing her grey ones. "Sometimes I don't even bother trying anymore."

They both got quiet. Nesta didn’t know what to say; his vulnerability scared her.

It was strange. To have a conversation with Cassian without banter, without insults being thrown back and forth. Nesta didn’t know what to think of it.

"I could be deported any day," he admitted, so quietly that Nesta almost didn't hear. Then he added, his voice breaking slightly, "I don't want to go."

Nesta watched him as he looked to the dirty tiles of the laundry room floor. Her lips parted slightly and before she realized what she was doing, she was talking.

"I have nightmares every night. Today was the first time in two months I haven't had one. A strange part of me would rather have horrible dreams instead of this silence... and that scares me."

Cassian was staring at her now, his eyes flaring. He looked like he wanted to move closer, but he remained where he stood. He simply nodded at the piece of herself she'd just shared with him.

I see you, is what he seemed to wordlessly say to her.

A strange feeling of deja vu washed over Nesta as they looked at each other. She couldn't place it, but this - talking with Cassian - felt familiar, like it had happened -

The washing machine next to Nesta dinged, signaling that her clothes had finished. She pulled her gaze from Cassian's and hopped off to switch her clothes over.

Cassian merely watched. Then, they both waited in a comfortable silence until their laundry finished drying. Cassian's finished first, but he waited until Nesta's did to walk her back up. They didn't share a word, but something intangible transpired between them.

And even though Nesta still wasn't able to fall asleep, the silence felt a bit less scary the rest of the night.

---------------------------

“Are you excited for the semester to start next week?”

Nesta froze from where she stood washing the dishes when Elain posed the question.

Next week? That couldn’t be right. Nesta counted off the days in her head.

To her horror, Elain was correct.

It was nearing the end of January. She knew she’d had to return to Pryth U after winter break, but Nesta thought she’d have longer. Longer to get over what had happened, to figure out how exactly to avoid him on campus. She thought by now… she thought she wouldn’t be scared anymore.

She was wrong.

“Nesta?”

Nesta peeled her eyes away from the soapy knife that she was clutching tightly in her hand to find Elain peering over at her with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” Nesta forced out, despite every fiber of her body screaming otherwise. “Can’t wait.”

She continued throughout the morning as normal as she could be, even though she was shaking. When noon hit, Nesta called out to Elain who was lounging in the living room waiting for Azriel to come over.

"I'm think I’m going to go to the gym." She willed her voice not to shake.

"Okay, have fun!" Elain exclaimed from the other room.

Nesta had purchased a gym membership to Illyria last week, a pathetic effort at getting out of the apartment more often. She hadn't gone once yet. And either way, her only real plan was to use the hot tub. She couldn't remember the last time she exercised, and she had no intention of changing that.

After getting dressed and grabbing her bag, Nesta headed out.

The drive was quick; the gym was only a couple miles away. Once Nesta parked, she made her way inside the complex.

She forced a tight smile as she approached the woman who was working the front desk, scanning her membership card and continuing forward. Her mind was racing, and she prayed that there wouldn't be many people there. It was a Tuesday afternoon. She doubted it.

Nesta was weaving her way past the space dedicated to boxing to get to the locker rooms when she heard a familiar voice ahead of her.

She instinctively turned her head to see who it was, only to find Cassian standing next to a punching bag, his face breaking out into a grin as he talked to a very beautiful woman.

She was small, several inches shorter than Nesta. Her copper chestnut hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail, and her hands were on her hips as she attentively listened to Cassian speak. She seemed captivated by whatever he was saying, probably some bullshit meant to charm her.

Nesta didn't think twice as she discreetly did a 180 and started walking the opposite way, desperate to avoid him especially after the night in the laundry room. That'd been the last time she'd seen him, and she didn't want to talk about it. Not with him or anyone else. Even though she'd opened up to him, that didn't mean they were friendly. In fact, it was the complete opposite. She was determined to keep him at arm's length now. Nesta had cursed herself the morning after those events had transpired. She was so stupid to tell him what she did. It was just because she had been severely sleep-deprived, and she had felt bad for him. It wouldn't happen again.

So, she slowly slinked away, praying to the Gods that he didn't notice her.

Her plan was going smoothly until she heard her name.

"Nesta?"

Her shoulders stiffened. Fuck.

She brought herself to a painstaking stop and turned around to see Cassian jogging over to her.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached. He seemed cautious, like he didn't want to scare her off. "I didn't realize you went to Illyria."

"I don't," Nesta replied quickly. He waited for her to say more, but she just blinked up at him.

"Well," he drawled, looking back at the woman he had been talking with. "I'm just about to start a training session." Ah, he works here. She wondered what he did in his free time. "Do you want to join? The first session is free."

Nesta looked to where the woman was methodically wrapping her hands in what looked like Ace bandages. She was more stunning than Nesta originally thought. She wouldn't be at all surprised if Cassian hooked up with his trainees. Especially if they looked like that.

"No, I'm - "

But Cassian wasn't having it. "Gwyn!" he called out, gesturing her to come to where they stood.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nesta hissed, her heart rate spiking as she watched the woman, Gwyn, make her way toward them.

Cassian ignored her, continuing to smile. The bastard.

As Gwyn made her way over, Nesta did her best to put on a friendly face. She was pretty sure she was just grimacing.

"Hi! I'm Gwyn," she introduced herself with a bubbly voice. She looked Nesta up and down. "You must be Nesta. I've heard a lot about you."

Nesta threw Cassian a sideway glare. He'd been talking about her? No doubt complaining about her horrible attitude.

Cassian winked at the look she gave him before turning to Gwyn. "Gwyn, why don't you tell Nesta a little bit about what we do while I go get some equipment from the back? Then we can get started."

Nesta opened her mouth to object, but Cassian was gone before she could even blink. Groaning inwardly, she reluctantly faced Gwyn who was smiling softly at her.

"Well, I assume you know that Cassian is a trainer," she started with an awkward laugh.

Nesta stared at her.

Gwyn continued to smile despite Nesta's coldness. "He actually created this program, Wings of Resilience, a couple years ago. He offers discounted training lessons for people who deal with PTSD. It's helped a lot of people. Cassian mainly teaches kickboxing, but in the past he's taken in some older veterans who aren't really able to do high cardio activities, so he guides them through yoga practices. Everyone here adores him," Gwyn giggles and leans in. "Especially the older ladies who come in every week for their exercise class."

She kept talking, but Nesta was no longer listening. The room suddenly felt tiny, the air stifling. What Gwyn told her triggered her fight or flight instincts. She didn’t know why, she just knew she couldn’t breathe, and if she didn’t leave now, she was going to have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of a room full of people.

“Are you okay?”

Nesta’s eyes shot up from her shaking hands to see Gwyn take a cautious step forward, her eyes wide with something that resembled concern. Nesta nearly let out a hysterical laugh. Gwyn and Cassian - they were such good people. How did they even pretend to give a shit about someone like Nesta?

"I-I need to go,” Nesta blurted, eyes scanning the room for the nearest exit.

"I know it's a lot to consider," Gwyn said quietly. She looked down at her feet. "But it's really helped me."

No, no, no.

Nesta didn't even realize she had started running until her lungs were burning from the exertion of energy. She ran and didn’t stop. She caught a flash of someone – Cassian’s – face as she sprinted past the lobby and outside, but she didn't look back. She couldn't.

The cold air was harsh against her lungs. She welcomed the burning sensation, gasping for more oxygen. Before Nesta could comprehend what was happening, she was spilling her guts on the sidewalk until she was dry heaving.

Passersby looked at her with disgust as they walked past, but Nesta couldn’t bring herself to care.

When there was nothing more to come out, Nesta wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened herself. Every muscle in her body screamed. How she was able to stand, she had no idea. Nesta beelined to her car, locked the door, and speeded out of the parking lot before anyone could run after her.

------------------------------

That night, Nesta received a text from an unknown number.

Nesta, I asked Cassian for your phone number. I hope I didn’t overstep your boundaries. I just wanted to let you know that there will be a spot here if you want it. Please think about it. Gwyn

Her first instinct was to delete the text, cancel her membership to Illyria, and never face Gwyn - or Cassian for that matter - again. There was no way she was going to show her face in that gym again.

But despite everything, Nesta found herself saving Gwyn’s number into her contacts before she fell asleep.

------------------------------

tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@sjmships @sleeping-and-books @sirgwaines @books-for-sure @blowing-mikey @b00kworm @wineywitch202 @drielecarla @liquifyme @gisellefigue08 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @loysydark @stardelia @sayosdreams @maastrash @superspiritfestival @courtofjurdan @ireallyshouldsleeprn @thewayshedreamed @booksstorm @laylaameer01 @rainbowcheetah512

#nessian #bittersweet #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #my writing

22 notes · View notes

chalkxtabletxtowers · 3 years

Text

~A beach day full of feelings~

•Fandom: Ducktales, kinda? I based this fanfiction mostly off of the Italian comics, or "Lustige Taschenbücher" in Germany because the chemistry between the two is ströng there.

•Pairing: Donro, Donald x Gyro

•Warnings/Notes: Trans!Gyro is hinted, otherwise, this is just cute and wholesome. I originally wanted to upload it on valentines day, but I spent the day with my girlfriend and forgot about it, so here you have it now.

Everyone around them seemed to get the hints. Everyone around them seemed to understand what kind of relationship it was between them, better, than the two of them did. They were painfully oblivious, so much so, that they brushed the suspections of the people surrounding them off, even though they weren't unaware of them. But they both knew, or thought to know, that just because they were good friends, and because of that spend more time together, that that didn't mean something was going on between them.

Donald spent the days in the laboratory more often, these days. To upgrade his suit, that had been damaged pretty badly in the last incident with Magica. Even though he only understood half of was the scientist was explaining to him, it was still interesting to see old and new weapons, that were supposed to help him in the fight during crime.

On the inside, he knew that he liked spending the time in the laboratory. Being surrounded by someone. With the scientist in the room, he never had to fear that the silence took over. Silence, that he experienced everyday once the kids were out of the house. Since he never kept a job for more than three days, he didn't have any distraction. Without the three bringing life into the house, it was strangely empty, silent and big.

He had no real entertainment, besides reality TV, but that had changed ever since he spent the days in the laboratory. But he knew, that these days would be numbered pretty soon, after all, Gyro wouldn't have to fix his suit much longer, it was in pretty good condition again and the new weapons and inventions were all added, as much as that was possible.

But Donald didn't want these days to be numbered, which he, of course, couldn't tell Gyro. They were friends, and they did tend to spend some time on the weekend but... That would've been just weird, especially because Donald wasn't an apprentice, and probably wouldn't have been a very good one at that.

"There we go." the voice of the chicken interrupted his thoughts and the duck jumped "It's all fixed and ready for crime fighting again. I bet you were missed on the streets while having your forced break. But these days are over."

Donald was glad, that his suit was repaired again. He was glad, that he could do something against crime again. But on the other side, he was quietly crying. He decided to do something about it "The kids and I wanted to go to the beach on the weekend. And as a thankful gesture-" Since he obviously didn't have the money to pay the scientist "You could join us?"

The inventor seemed surprised. Not, that this was the first weekend he spend with the duck, but usually it was pretty spontaneous. Donald had never flat out asked like this, especially not in the middle of the week. "I.."

Gyro look around over his stuff, and his tables, and sighted "Think I could use a break"

When Donald returned home, the kids were already home too. He could tell by the mess in the hallway and the tossed aside schoolbags. He knew that homework hadn't been touched yet by either of them, but was too relaxed to care. He was in a good mood, but didn't really want to realise why. He just told himself it was because he could finally protect the city, and therefore the people that meant something to him, again. That was the reason, surely.

Donald decided to make pancakes for dinner, and when the kids came down the stairs because they had smelled them, they noticed that something was definitely up with their uncle "Why are you so relaxed?" "Yeah, why aren't you mad at us for not doing our homework yet?" "Did something exciting happen? Did you win the lottery? Are we rich?" "Are we rich?" "Are we?"

Donald chuckled. He wished. Well, technically, the family was rich, but he would've never gotten a single coin from his uncle, at least not until he eventually passed away. "We're not rich." He said as he sat down "I just..." He shrugged "Had a good day. Oh, and, we won't be going to the beach alone."

The three were, on their own, very well aware that their uncle had a crush. It wasn't something he could hide very well. The signs were too obvious. And they were also aware that this crush was centered towards a certain inventing chicken. But Donald, admitting that? Wouldn't happen. "Will Gyro be joining us?" Louie asked, his brothers chuckling in the background. God, it was so obvious "Yes. And that's nothing to make fun of! We're good friends and I'm being nice to him as a reward for all the good things he has done for us in the past! Including inventing stuff that wasn't only useful for me."

He looked at the three, and they knew what he was talking about. Their video game, that they could scan themselves into. Yeah, that was indeed a rad thing.

The rest of the evening wasn't so quiet, the three just couldn't stop teasing their uncle, no matter how often he kept denying a crush.

Gyro, on the other hand, wasn't much better. Not, that he wasn't well aware of the fact that he was a gay chicken.

No, he was just nervous of the thought of sharing a beach day with Donald, even though spending the weekends with the duck wasn't unusual. Sometimes, Donald would just come over for new inventions or to get something on his suit fixed, and afterwards they'd go to a café or watch a movie. Nothing unusual, just things that friends did.

And since they were friends, he was confused about his sudden nervousness. Why was a day at the beach something that suddenly scared him? After all these years, feathers had obviously grown over the scars on his chest, and he felt confident with being a male chicken.

In any way, the nervousness caused him to loose his concentration and he sighted in frustration. He wouldn't get anything done anymore, he had to take a break and clear his thoughts.

But eventually, the dreaded saturday did arrive, and there was nothing they both could do about it.

And even though they both were beyond nervous, they were also excited to spent the day with the person that meant something to them, even though they both weren't aware yet, what exactly that certain something was.

"Have we got everything?"

Donald asked, afraid that 313 would explode at any minute, judging by how full the poor car was. A single pool float was laying around, and he had almost tripped over it, and the sunscreen seemed to glue his feathers together, but he didn't care. Today was a good day, and he wouldn't let it get ruined by his reappearing bad luck.

"We think so!"

The triplets shouted back as they pressed themselves on the backseat of the car. After Donald had made sure they were strapped into their seats, like the good uncle he was, he started driving towards the beach.

"So, will you tell him today?"

Huey suddenly asked, the biggest grin plastered across his beak.

"Will I tell who what today?"

Donald asked, although he knew what they were talking about. And he could've sworn he got red under his cheek feathers.

"Will you tell Gyro today-"

Dewey continued "That he's the love of your life?"

Louie ended the sentence.

They didn't care if their uncle was in a gay relationship, as long as he was happy. And Gyro had visited them so often, that by now, they kinda viewed him as a uncle themselves. They just wanted them to finally realise their feelings, and be officially in a relationship. So that their uncle could be constantly as happy as he had been on Wednesday.

"I am not in love with him."

The duck stated, yet again. This wasn't the first time he had to defend himself in front of the kids. "We're very good friends, and that's all their is. Aren't you three glad that your uncle has found a friend?" All that he got in return from them was a simple chuckle. They knew.

After Donald had parked the car, they hopped out of it "Well, we wish you luck"

They said, before running, trying to find a good spot for themselves and the two love birds. They didn't want to be in the way of their confession.

And Donald, who was waiting at his car, did think about their words.

In love? Him? Well... He certainly knew how love felt, but... Yes, he liked to spent time with the chicken. Yes, he liked the chicken around him, and his company. And yes, they had slipped in each others arm once or twice during sleeping, but love? Didn't love cause butterflies in your stomach and a fast beating heart? He didn't feel anything of that. So it couldn't be love after all, right?

While Donald was lost in his thoughts, Gyro was already on the way to the beach, glowing with excitement.

He was, semi, aware of his feelings, or at least by now finally knew that they extended friendship. He wasn't sure yet in what way, but he was sure of one thing: That he was going to find out today. At least he wanted more weekends like this one, he told himself, and when he saw the bright red car on the horizon, he slowed down "I'm here."

He greeted Donald and almost automatically had to smile. This felt so normal, so... Domestic, as if they were a couple for years. Wait. Couple? Had he just really thought that? Blush started to arise at his cheeks, and the duck obviously noticed it, while the two made their way to the beach, the inventor either next to him, or behind him, when the way got slimmer.

"Are you alright? You look so red. Sure you haven't catched a sunburn already?" The worry in his voice came automatically, when you are a uncle of three very active nephews, you're basically worried 24/7. And, he also wanted his friend to be well. Everyone would've cared about their friend, right?

"N-No, I'm alright, the sunscreen is strong enough." Gyro quickly stuttered together, and the sailor just nodded. Eventually, after some silence, Gyro decided it would be best to switch the topic "And, did you try the new suit out yet? I hope everything works well?"

Donald nodded "Yeah, it's really good. I feel safer in this suit than I did before. The new inventions are practical, though some could need improvement." He chuckled.

When the triplets saw them walking over, they decided they had to do something. It was maybe the most cliché plan of their short life's so far, but something had to be done. These two couldn't continue walking around, being so oblivious towards one another.

So, Huey decided to take matters into his own hands and stretched his feet out. Normally, he wouldn't have wished his uncle to trip and fall over, but in this case, it was necessary for once

And, as the bad luck had already foreshadowed, their uncle did trip and fall, the scientist, that had walked behind him, falling on top of Donald. The three cheered, that was exactly what they had wanted. They didn't care how cliché this was, they knew it would work.

And sometimes, the most cliché ways were the best ways. As Donald rolled on his back in a dizzy attempt to orientate himself, his eyes catched the eyes of the scientist. In that moment, he realised it.

Maybe love wasn't all butterflies and a fast beating heart. Maybe love was all about finding comfort in someone. And being at home, with someone. And with Gyro, he certainly was at home.

"I-I love you."

The duck spurted out, his face immediately after becoming so red, that it could have been a rival to the worst sunburn. As Gyro heard the words, the chicken blushed again, before clearing his throat "I-I can only agree. The time we spent together is the most beautiful time of my entire day. I'm always looking forward to it, and when you're gone, I feel lonely. I feel like a part of me is missing. With you..."

"I feel comforted and at home. I feel like I'm in a safe space with someone, that understands me and doesn't judge me. And someone, that certainly knows my deepest secrets."

As the two joined each other in a loving kiss, the triplest cheered. They had known it all along.

#Donro #DonaldxGyro #Ducktales #Donald duck #Gyro gearloose #I saw like one fanart and wrote this ;-;#Leo writes #Comfort #Cute couple shit #Sometimes two birds have a better love life than most people #Triplets #Supporting triplets #No homophobia in this home °^°#They probably ran around on the beach afterwards cheering.#Duckverse

26 notes · View notes

justlookfrightened · 4 years

Text

How hard could it be? Part 27

Start from the beginning

Part 26

Since Jack didn’t have plans to bake with Bittle the next day, he got up, drank a protein shake, did his longer workout and had breakfast.

He went online to confirm his groceries were going to be delivered later today, and then he sat to read for an hour.

That was all fine, but after an hour it wasn’t time for lunch and he didn’t want to sit still any more. This, he realized, was the time he usually spent baking.

He’d already talked to Marty and Gabby about their idea, which was doing some kind of a bake-off for the Falcs, with everyone recording themselves, and then having the team post it online. Bittle could be involved as an advisor or judge or something like that. It would offer fans something to watch, something to make the players human, like the pr staff always wanted, give the guys something to do, and give Bittle exposure.

“But if Bittle’s the judge, you’re not allowed to win,” Marty said. “Not if you’ve been getting private lessons.”

Jack wondered how he made online baking lessons sound risqué.

He pulled his camera out and took a picture of the city from his balcony. It wasn’t as empty as it was in the first days of the lockdown; the nicer weather had brought out more dog-walkers, people with strollers and even couples walking hand-in-hand. It was a far cry from the bustle of a regular workday, though.

He considered posting the picture to his Instagram -- the one no one was supposed to know was his -- and decided against it. If someone did know, they’d be able to figure out where he lived too easily. Besides, he still had at least an hour to kill.

Instead, he grabbed a mask and a ballcap and took his camera outside.

Between the mask and the cap pulled low over his eyes, no one gave him a second look as he set off down the sidewalk. He stopped first outside his favorite coffee shop, first taking a straight-on shot of the sign on the door: “Closed because of the coronavirus. Stay safe, everyone.”

Then he tried to get a picture at an angle that would show the interior, with its chairs upturned on the tables, along with the reflection of car and foot traffic on the plate glass window. He wasn’t sure it worked -- he’d have to look on his computer screen at home for the detail -- but he thought it made a nice juxtaposition that showed what it was like for people who were healthy right now. The days were utterly normal and tedious, boring even, but the situation did not feel normal at all. It was hard to feel heroic when the only thing anyone could tell people like him to do was stay home. Maybe he should have stayed inside, but it felt good to be out in the sun. The temperature was about 15, and a light jacket was enough. Besides, getting out for fresh air from time to time was allowed.

He headed closer to the river, stopping to get a shot of a kid playing tennis in an empty parking lot against a brick wall, and, a block further on, an abandoned tricycle locked inside a closed playground, behind yellow tape and a sign warning families to keep out.

People were on the pavement by the river, but alone or in pairs. Jack tried to get a picture that would express what it looked like, a dozen people all alone together, outside to witness the trees and plants coming back to life. He also snapped a quick selfie of himself in a mask, the river in the background.

When he got home, he chose a handful of his favorite shots to upload to Instagram. He also sent them to Bittle. He added a question: What’s it like where you are?

He had to wait a while for his answer, but it came before he was done taking 150 shots at the net in the garage.

I haven’t left the house or the yard since my mother’s been running errands. The leaves on our trees are all the way out now, and we have more flowers blooming. These are some pictures of the yard, but nowhere near as good as yours. Although in your selfie, you look like you’re about to rob a bank.

Bittle had added some photos of a wide backyard with a couple of white flowering trees, bushes with pink and yellow flowers, some flower beds with tulips that were almost done. It looked like there were lilac bushes at the end of the yard.

The patio had a table with chairs clustered around it, and a couple of lounge chairs at the other side. There was also a picture of a front porch with a swing and pots of flowering plants.

Are your parents still coming to celebrate tonight? Jack asked.

I don’t think so, Bittle replied. My mama says I’m running her off her feet with all the shopping, but I don’t think she minds much. Gets her out of the house while Coach is trying to teach gym over e-learning. Anyway, I think we’ll get together for my birthday in a couple of weeks and do it then. We still have some time before when graduation was supposed to be, but my thesis was the big deal. Some of my classes ended early, and the rest have gone pass/fail with no finals. It’s all good.

Jack felt vaguely disgruntled on Bittle’s behalf. Someone should make a point of celebrating his achievement. Bittle missed the end of his hockey season -- the end of his hockey career -- and any of the rituals that probably went with that. He was missing the end of his classes. He wouldn’t get a graduation ceremony, and all his plans for when school ended got crumpled up and tossed away.

It wasn’t just Bittle, of course, it was everyone who was graduating this year, but Bittle was the one Jack knew. It didn’t matter anyway. There was really nothing he could do, besides send a card and maybe a small gift.

Or maybe not. He knew it was cheesy, but he knew who to call for help.

“Maman, I want to send Bittle something,” he said. “Get Papa too. I want to send him everything he would need for a graduation party. Balloons and decorations, what else?”

Part 28

Now posting on AO3

#omgcheckplease #omg check please #zimbits #my fic

95 notes · View notes

iwriteaboutkpopsometimes · 3 years

Text

Hyunjin "Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)" (원곡 : Sam Tinnesz) | [Stray Kids : SKZ-PLAYER] ~A Love Letter~

I talk about why I love this video so much and deliver an excruciatingly detailed play by play of it, but why read a two thousand word, five page essay on a three minute video when you can just go watch the aforementioned three minute video? Forget me spending hours writing this, why are you here, seriously, it would take you significantly less time to watch the actual video. Regardless, enjoy my attempt to refrain from saying the same three things, “he's so cool”, “I love him”, and “this is so good”, in exchange for a more, hopefully, academically professional sound.

Watching him perform never fails to put me in a trance, it’s incredibly captivating how precise and sharp while simultaneously lively and energy-filled his movements are. This video feels reminiscent of enjoying a movie I’ve seen countless times, memorized every line of dialogue from, and genuinely think of every part as the best it has to offer. I greatly missed seeing him dance and having this as his grand welcome back into the spotlight is nothing less of a gift. Every second leaves my heart pounding and as excited as the last, as he continuously tops himself the longer I watch. I feel that revisiting the video is the least I can do, for giving it only one view doesn’t feel morally acceptable if I intend to truly appreciate it for that art that it is. Dramatic of me? Perhaps, but I can’t help but perceive it as more than just this one video that was uploaded onto their YouTube channel. It isn’t just about all of the work he and others put into the making of this particular video, his choreography for the song was a result of years upon years of practice and learning different techniques. A performance this good doesn’t only involve technical skill though, but also skill in regards to one’s inner mind. To have confidence in one’s self, to hit every move powerfully, to know what you’re doing and be unapologetic about it, that is skill. Sure, the performer is at the focus of any performance, but don’t forget that it’s also about the audience, it is after all for the enjoyment of the viewer. If the audience senses your doubt and insecurity and uncertainty, it will make your stage that much less enjoyable. Whatever you feel, they can feel too. When I watch him, I don’t feel any of that. In fact, I feel the exact opposite, I feel inspired, motivated, confident, excited to advance in my own endeavors. The emotion that this video evokes from me goes beyond anything Stray Kids or K-Pop or even dance itself, it makes me want to be a better person, be kinder to myself and work harder. That might sound like a lot for one video to do for someone, but it’s the truth. All of the details, even down to the individual frames, it all works together to create the most gratifying viewing experience. At the time of writing this, the video has just hit five million views and has over one million likes, only a mere three days after its initial upload.

The first shot of his footsteps alone, as he goes to stand in front of the mirror, I already feel this sense of importance coming from him, delicate, yet powerful. The setting, cold and empty, yet inviting, it makes room for him and gives him just enough light to be seen, for he doesn’t need all that much help to surely shine. The credits that pop up use a dark shade of pink-red for it’s background color and white text that acknowledges the same deep red imagery and text associated with the material of the original work. His outfit is neat and pristine with some sparkle, resembling one a prince would seem fit. He stares at his reflection, holding a sheer white ribbon in his mouth, gathers a section of hair behind his head and proceeds to tie it with said ribbon. The music starts as he finishes tying and lets his arms fall down at his sides. The over the shoulder shot looking into the mirror, shows that his expression is neutral, almost calm. This can most certainly be described as “the calm before the storm”, except the storm itself is antonymous to a tragedy, because when the singing starts, it’s as if his performance persona was turned on by a switch, a charismatic possession that took place in a matter of seconds that sends chills down your spine in the best way. His previously neutral, calm-like expression and gently resting arms are quickly replaced by the sudden placement of his right hand around his neck and a look that resembles more of a vengeful, hesitant, and somehow playful one. Similar to what I’d imagine a villain would look like right before being bested during an epic fight sequence at the climax of a film. It’s satisfying to see him popping to the beat’s rhythm, his arms, wrists, and head smoothly illustrating the flow of the words, his focus and the secure angles he’s able to form before even fully utilizing his lower body. On the line “Got secrets I can’t tell”, he delicately places his pointer finger in between his teeth, as he turns back to meet the camera with his eyes, the shot now semi-closely focusing on both Hyunjin and his reflection as opposed to just one or the other. He extends his right arm, his hand forming a fist, and the camera movement making it as if I’ve been punched and sent flying. He stumbles to the middle of the room, does an opening gesture with his arms, like a proud baker showing off their completed wedding cake, along with a dramatic spin incorporating his thin, white, flowy cape. Reaching the pre-chorus, we get to see the room more clearly, like the stone pillars and the contrast of the small, warm lights on the walls to the grand grayness radiating from the large window that makes him appear as a near silhouette. There’s a certain holiness about him spending a count with his head down and arms out, much like the Crucifixion of Christ, before showcasing more of a demonic energy when he faces the window with his body, but bends backward and looks to the camera upside down. He rips off the cape, tosses it behind him, to his right. This could symbolize a transformation, an abandonment of a particularly purer image of oneself, a liberation. The music picks up, and the manner in which he dances is like a visual representation of one’s inner turmoil combined with an agenda to seduce those watching, wanting to dance for himself while taking us along for the ride. Now that the first minute of the video is out of the way, let’s continue.

The music fades into the background and the video takes on a sudden widescreen and grayscale appearance as he falls back on his right hand, flings his left hand over to his right shoulder, as though he’s been shot, and is being supported by his knees. He leans forward, places his right hand on the ground in front of him, uses his left hand to push his right knee over to achieve ideal balance, setting up his body roll. He extends his right leg back, getting close to the ground, and there’s something quite feral, yet intimate about the way he traces the length of his arm with his face and left hand. It looks like he’s taking out his frustrations through his moves while never sacrificing the detailed quality of the performance as a whole. It reminds me of how it’s more than common for artists to use their pain in their art, whether it be a point of well-intentioned expression with a specific purpose or simply an outlet for them to channel into. Hyunjin is the definition of aggressive elegance. The fullscreen, colorful display and music entirely return when he spins and lands on the ground in a Spider- Man esc pose, the room a lot warmer than even before the stylistic grayscale section. There’s hints of red, acting as a match that’s set to illuminate and ignite the puddle of gasoline that is him and his performance, that replaces the once colder, icy blue that previously enveloped his silhouette. He bounces to the beat showing off his proud, devilish smile that, instead of striking fear, makes me feel proud, as I’m essentially rooting for the villain in the movie. If the transition to the grayscale widescreen was him getting shot, then the transition back to fullscreen color is him emerging from his grave, an awakening. His shirt is no longer neatly tucked into his pants, but rather, hanging very loosely and mostly unbuttoned. He covers his face with his left hand, pulling it down for just a second before revealing his expression that has swiftly reverted to a roughly indifferent one. The inner conflict has greatly subsided, and focuses on the hesitant-free embracing of his newly discovered self, one of immense confidence and sex-appeal. Although, something about the flow of how he averts his gaze, looking to the left and not the lense, while pointing and doing body rolls at the camera, covers his eyes with crossed arms, and then allows for his hair to cover his eyes as well, makes me feel like he doesn’t want the viewer to know he is still at least a little bit shy. He quickly makes you forget though, because the next and final minute exaggerates everything he’s shown us up until this point, taking it to a whole new, spectacular level.

The bridge of the song creates a slower, softer atmosphere, which is beautifully interpreted with how Hyunjin carries himself during this part. Bigger gestures that blend into each other seamlessly, centering on really taking up the space he’s in. He gently and precisely lowers his body to the floor, collecting a white rose between his teeth. As soon as he returns to his upright stature, the setting changes dramatically. His hair now completely down, he’s under a spotlight in an otherwise pitch black and foggy room. There’s blue and red light reflecting off of his white top and his skin as he dances. This part feels more humane compared to the rest, with more of an obvious balance between sharp, impactful moves and tender, compassionate ones. He draws attention to his shoulders, brings his hands and feet close to his body, and showcases his red lit back. I particularly enjoy when he flicks his wrists and twists his ankles to the right in unison on the second syllable of “unstoppable”. For the “legendary animal” part of that line, his arms create a cage-like structure by doing a climbing motion and carrying it over all the way to the left. A cage in which he destroys the walls and breaks out of, shown by him punching downward on beat. From holding the rose in his mouth to holding it in his hand, he brings it over his head to his left shoulder, and raises his heels. He carries the rose down and around his left arm, his left arm momentarily resting at his waist, his right arm extended downward, he raises his heels again. His whole body lowers as a rigid wave starts at his up flicked wrists and subsequently elbows and shoulders. This collection of gestures results in petals falling off of the rose. He then inevitably throws it into the void, out of the reach of the lovely spotlight. I see this spotlight dance as a danse macabre, or dance of death. The white ribbon, white shirt, and white rose all coming together to illustrate this innocent and pure quality to him, that through this dance, he finalizes the renouncement of. He is more than ready to embrace a new and different side of him, but especially to get rid of the older and repetitive side that felt restrictive more than anything. The spotlight dance ends with Hyunjin looking directly into the camera, tracing his right hand down his chest and to his side, and the camera backing away. The last chorus of the song brings us back to the oh so familiar main room, Hyunjin’s hair back to being tied up, the lighting is the same, but there’s something that stands out. His shirt is on the verge of being completely unbuttoned and that allows for something alluringly shiny to be fully in view compared to before. The video comes full circle with Hyunjin’s hand around his neck, he stands in the hallway, and walks away a new man as the screen fades to black.

As I wrap up this essay on Hyunjin’s “Play With Fire (Feat. Yacht Money)”, original song by Sam Tinnesz, Stray Kids: SKZ-PLAYER, the video has reached six million views, a million more than when I first started writing this, and I feel proud to have spent a day simply pouring my heart and mind out on this wordy display of my appreciation. Don’t be fooled though, for my necessary research, I guess you could call it, for this project may no longer be so necessary, I shall continue to watch and applaud the masterpiece and experience that is this video for my own personal enjoyment, much like how this whole piece was written for my own personal enjoyment. It was an interesting challenge to properly voice not only the contents of the video but also my thoughts and feelings on it. Hyunjin is a highly valued dancer, member of Stray Kids, and person and five pages isn’t ever going to be enough to fully explain the respect and admiration I feel for him and his various projects. I think he’s really cool, I experience all sorts of fiery euphoria watching him dance, his rap and singing alike are addictive as hell, and he’s pretty, haha. I missed him a lot while he was inactive, and I’m so happy to have him back and doing great things as per usual. I’m excited to see what he and the rest of the group have left to show us this year. I advise you to watch the video if you haven’t, but somehow ended up reading an essay on it first, and if you’ve already seen it, watch it again, yeah. I’ll leave you with lovely thoughts and lovely vibes and I hope you too can appreciate the work he’s put into the video, as well as my work on this essay. Thank you for taking the time to read my love letter, essentially, and bye for now ^ ^

#straykids #stay #hyunjin #skzplayer #lovestay #kpop

2 notes · View notes

nurseofren · 4 years

Text

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-two

Title: Choice

Words: 8200

Summary: When one is hurt, comfort is imperative.

ST Rambles: Hello! It has been nearly a month, not quite, but I have missed you all so entirely too much to admit. This story is my heart, and sharing it means the world to me. I took my first exam of the semester this morning and wanted to finish this chapter so I could upload prior to going to my first maternal-newborn clinical rotation on Saturday.

During my time away I have had the opportunity to read many amazing works, whether they be one-shots on tumblr or ficlets right on A03. One that has evoked such a strong response in me has been Three Blind Tooke by ElmiDol. She is a beautiful soul with such a gift for storytelling. I have quickly fallen in love with this story and I hope to encourage many of you to do the same.

My plan for the semester and writing is to take one week writing and then take one week to read the stories that I want. I think this will provide the necessary balance needed for me to be successful in school while also creating and enjoying other creator's content.

[MASTERLIST]

Time has always had a funny way of making itself scarce when needed most. It seemed that you could barely remember the trial, like it had never happened and all that remained to prove that it had were the restraints locked tight around each of your wrists and your neck. Above you sounded the molten, fatal buzz of the plasma guillotine, though it was mere background noise to the riotous cacophony of the rabid crowd awaiting your final moment. As you knelt, trembling against the icy durasteel, face frozen under cold-stuck tears, you tried and failed to settle into acceptance that this would be your last act of life.

“Please,” you whimpered, unsure if anyone could hear you, “I… I saved that man’s life. I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t deserve to die for keeping my oath.” You tried to scream but the pleads were barely whispers.

Out of sight came a bellowed laugh, full and ragged just as it had been in the past. “That isn’t why you’re here, young officer.” Snoke could hardly contain his glee. “You’re forgetting, you may have saved one life, but you took another.”

Nausea waved through you and your head started pounding; Snoke’s presence was pain, magnified with each echo of his words as the arena shook against the surround sound. An uproar of cheers and chanting came from before you, the crowd booming with enthusiasm, hanging off of every word their Supreme Leader spoke.

Through the fog of terrified eyes you saw an image appear behind the audience, scaling the entire back wall and striking you with rage. A scrollbar read something you could only assume to be his First Order given name, your focus too centered on the enormous projection of Robbie’s face, smiling while he held his helmet tight against his chest. He looked too nice, just as he’d seemed when you gave him a name. He was being renowned as a hero, his death marking you as the villain.

“I… He! I was defending myself, he was going to kill me!”

“But instead you killed me.”

This voice was angelic, familiar and welcoming in the storm surrounding you. It was accompanied by the footsteps you’d become so fond of, coming closer with every panted breath that fell from your lips. Kylo crowded your view of the blinding screen, a cape trailing in his path. He stopped when he was centered in your view and crouched so he was eye level with you.

He wore no mask, nothing to conceal his beautiful visage as the sight of him constricted your heart. When was the last you’d seen him? It felt like it had been so long, yet you could barely grasp any concept of time. It was frustrating, like you were barred in your memory. Kylo’s face gave no indication into his emotions, yet for a fleeting moment you swore you saw a tear glint over his cheek.

“Yet another of your victims, yes?” Snoke remained hidden, his voice shifting between your ears, slithering like the snake he was.

“You made me! I had no-,”

“Choice.” It was a discordant wrath of voices; at first Kylo’s, then Snoke’s, trailing off with the whispers of Robbie’s and Mason’s.

Kylo brought one hand, bare and freezing, to your cheek. It hadn’t been there before, but his face was now split with the consequences of battle, a gash – open, pulsating, and weeping – ripping through his features. A shiver sank into you, you throat tightening.

The way in which he next breathed your name made you weep, his thumb catching the tear that burned into your skin. “You’ve always had a choice, remember? You just keep making-,”

“The wrong ones.” You finished his sentence, remembering the first time he’d said it. A futile attempt was made to reach for his hand, a sting coming as the restraint bit into your wrist.

The crowd was growing impatient, hordes of screams coming from behind Kylo’s shoulders. The screen behind him shifted to present the live cast of your suffering, the view suggesting that it was Kylo’s own eyes giving view to the onlookers, your face excruciatingly close, allowing every audience member to bask in the terror that plagued you.

You sniffled, nuzzling into his hand and looking between his eyes. He mimicked you, though his gaze was empty, just as it had been one of the last times you could remember seeing him. “I trusted you,” he said. “More than anything.”

Kylo began to leave you, his fingertips lingering just before he could take three steps backwards. The plasma blade above you began hissing louder with inevitability, your eyes squeezing shut as you awaited your sentence’s completion. Pain took root in your left upper thigh, a kind of burning as you continued to kneel. A string of agony tore through your throat as your eyes shot open to see Kylo’s hand shoot up.

“No, no! Please! Kylo, no!” You could see your face twist with desperation behind him now, tears willful in their presence as each one painted creaks of pain down to the durasteel.

Snoke let out another flood of evil-tinged amusement as Kylo turned his face toward the direction the sound came. “You still don’t understand, stupid girl.” Another bark of laughter. “You might have had a choice,” he said, “but your Master never did. Never will.”

And as they were spoken, you saw that crushing glimmer of humanity flicker in the face of Kylo Ren as he turned back to you. Snoke, infuriatingly, was right, of course. Hearing it out loud, accepting it as fact, calmed you down. Staring up at him, watching his fingers twitch, you spent your last remaining second pitying him for all the control he believed he had, knowing more than he did that it was a masterful mirage. Snoke had Kylo wrapped around his finger; you had only aided in tightening his grip.

More than anything. It was the last thought before you heard the overhead blade drawing near, its volume immense until it wasn’t. The next thing you were aware of was the overbearing smell of flatcakes wafting into your nostrils. Taking a few deep breaths, your attention went to the ache twisted into the back of your skull, the dryness sticking to your lips, and the warm weight present over your right leg.

Taking one more deep breath, you coughed, lungs feeling like they’d been stagnant for a while, rejecting the stretch of air. Light was obvious even as your eyes remained shut, its overwhelming presence leading you to blink a few times before adapting.

“Where am I?” you croaked out. Answering your question, you first saw the familiar polygon meal tray sitting atop a bedside table while your watch rested next to it, next catching view of the pulse oximeter resting over your left index finger. This was the medbay.

The first thing that came to mind was your dream, remembering Kylo’s wounded face. He was hurt. Where was he? Was he okay? The monitor to your left sounded louder as your heart rate accelerated. Warmth left your right leg as you saw something move in your periphery. A person.

Mason had been asleep, his hair stuck to his face when he first looked at you with shock and relief. “You scared me!” He sprung up from the chair he’d been sitting in and flung his arms around you. “The news about Starkiller came and I didn’t know where you were.” He hummed your name into your neck while rocking you back and forth. “I thought you were… I thought you had… I didn’t know…”

“Mason.” It was all you could think to say, your arms resting at your side as he kept his hold on you. Maybe you should’ve felt relief that he was here and that he was okay, but all you could feel was regret and an overwhelming sadness. Mason was none the wiser, but his very existence was a reminder of what you’d done, undeniable proof of the choice you’d made.

He finally leaned back, keeping his hand locked around yours and staring down at you with red-rimmed eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his nerves settling more the longer he looked over your face. “I tried calling you—” a laugh accompanied the distant raise of his brows “—but I lost my commlink. I guess. I actually don’t know-,”

“What?” you interrupted his explanation, confused by his recall of events, wondering why Snoke wasn’t the focal point of his reasoning.

His face fell. “What? Did I say something? Are you hurt? Do you need water? Food? I actually ordered some flatcakes for me, but they’re all yours if you-,”

“You lost your commlink?”

His brow creased and his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Yeah? Yeah. I mean. I guess. It’s been crazy around here today and—” his face bloomed in horror “—oh, fuck! I didn’t mean that your day hasn’t been bad, I just. Yeah. I lost it.”

He didn’t seem like he knew anything about Snoke, or that he remembered ever enduring the pain you’d heard him scream through the communication device earlier – actually, how long had it been?

“So… There was nothing… I mean, you weren’t… Summoned? Or…?”

“Summoned?” Mason looked at you with amused confusion. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t give you any pain medicine, but you’re acting a little loopy.”

He didn’t know. He was blissfully ignorant to Snoke’s involvement in your or his life. Again, instead of relief you were met with that bleakness from before. “Maybe I was just dreaming,” you brushed it off.

Dreaming. Kylo. “I need to see him,” you mumbled, moving to stand and becoming extremely aware of your left leg once more. A hiss left you before Mason could pull your shoulders back against the bed, your hand reaching down to soothe the blanket-covered wounds.

“Not so fast,” he said. “Doctor Belkar wants to examine you before you start walking.”

“Belkar?” You couldn’t remember ever hearing that name, though your memory may not be the most reliable at the moment.

“I heard my name.” A man – shorter, skinny, and dark-skinned – peered into the door before knocking and stepping in. “Oh, good! Glad to see you’re awake. You had us worried there for a moment.” Belkar took a few more steps so he was on your left, clutching a datapad under his arm and smiling down at you. His presence was comfortable and professional. He seemed to possess a bedside manner not common of many physicians, and he’d barely even spoken.

Squinting towards his badge you found his first name. “Trace Belkar.” You sounded it out, feeling a faint sense of familiarity. Looking to his face, it finally struck you. “Oh! You’re, you are the one who… You helped me with my friend earlier.” Warmth set in your cheeks when you realized you knew him.

“Ah! My first surprise patient of the day. Funny how things seem to come full circle, isn’t it? Now-,”

Further realization hit. “You also helped me that night. I was the nurse who…” Maybe he didn’t remember who you were, and maybe he didn’t need to, given your actions that night were rather infamous currently.

“Yes! I knew you looked familiar seeing you yesterday. You are the nurse that saved my patient’s life. Great work that night, by the way. Fast-thinking, resourceful. Gives me hope for the next generation of medics.” A quick smile flashed across his face before he reached into his coat pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind following my finger with your eyes.”

It probably took too long for you to follow his request as you were taken aback by his praise for that night. The only emotions you’d ever attached to that it had been pain and fear, likely influenced by the way you were being reprimanded at the moment, thinking of that night as a crime rather than the miracle that it was for that man.

“Um, yes. Sorry.” You shook your head and followed the tip of his finger as he dragged it around – up and down, right to left, and finally in a diagonal cross.

“Any nausea, pain, weakness, dizziness, headaches?” His tone was absent while he traced his penlight in and out of sight to finish his PERRLA assessment.

“I’m really fine. This isn’t necessary at all.” You couldn’t stand being treated like a patient. Even when you were one. Knowing the inner workings of every check made it difficult not to see through their purpose. “I could probably leave now and I’d be fi-ah!” You’d tensed your wounded leg without thinking when shifting in the bed.

“How’s that leg treating you?” It seemed he was psychic in his assumptions, though you knew he’d probably had a nurse do a head-to-toe assessment while you were out.

Mason was puzzled when you looked over at him. “What’s wrong with her leg? She passed out. What’s wrong with her-,”

“Mason, will you go find me some water? And maybe a warm blanket? Please.” Your eyes were locked with Belkar’s as you quieted Mason, mindlessly squeezing his hand to encourage his leave. Mason did not need to see your brand. He wouldn’t understand, and you didn’t feel like having to explain to him, that you felt deserving of it and much worse.

There was a silent moment as you watched Belkar and felt Mason’s eyes before he squeezed your hand back and told you he’d be back soon. The door shut behind him and the quiet swallowed you.

“From what I read in your chart it seemed you’d given yourself a makeshift dressing. Your nurse was actually impressed at how well it was done. I do have some questions about the scars under it, though. If you don’t mind.” He seemed to know to tread lightly; his demeanor reminded you of the one you were instructed to use on abuse survivors.

You shook your head, but this only clued you into another pain. “Jeez! Ow!” Your hand fled to your forehead, finding a bandage sealed over a large bump. It was tender to touch, flinching as you remembered Robbie banging your head into the door.

Belkar took his datapad from under his arm and tapped away as you recovered. “There.” He pressed the screen once more before returning it to its original spot. “The nurse should be in here soon with some-,”

“I don’t want it.” You swallowed, dropping your hand and staring at your lap.

Belkar paused and shifted in his stance. He clicked his tongue, put his datapad down, and pulled up a chair. He called you by your last name, professional yet with a considerable amount of concern. “Will you tell me what caused your injuries?”

He was attempting therapeutic communication. And he was succeeding. An uncomfortable laugh left you. “What is there to tell? I’m hurt. In ways that aren’t physical. Ways that are.” Your lip began to quiver before you caught it with your teeth.

Another pause from Belkar. His hand twitched and your eyes jumped to it. He noticed this. “Can I hold your hand?”

The offer was tempting, but you declined by shaking your head and finally looking up at him. There were crinkles splayed outward from his eyes and gray hairs obvious in an overgrown stubble on his cheeks. He was a kind soul, you could tell; it was evident in his eyes, clear and green yet full of warmth. Soon after setting eyes on him you felt your throat thicken and your eyes water.

“You know,” you laughed, scraping at your eyes and sniffling, “I don’t even know what I’d say to any of the questions you mentioned before.”

A kind smile, no teeth, brought his cheeks up. “How about just one, then?”

“Yeah. One. I guess.”

He made sure your eyes were on his before he spoke again. “Do you want to report the person who did this to you?”

Another nervous laugh left. And then a sob before the heels of your hands met your face. “That’s not necessary,” you said through hiccuped words. Robbie’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, the pool of blood spreading below him before the door hissed shut. Your dream, the screen presenting his smiling face. “I… I don’t even know what to do anymore! I can’t… I have… I can’t fix this!”

Belkar squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. His face was blurry through your tears. “Slow down. Just breathe. Shh. Slow down.” He modeled how to do so, exaggerating when he took a deep breath through his nose.

After several breaths you closed your eyes and threw your head back on the pillow, keeping your hand in Belkar’s. “I’m sure you’ve seen the scars? Or read about them at the least, right? And then I know you were the one who caught me before I passed out so you obviously know who I work for.”

“Are those two things related?” He was trying not to assume anything.

“All that matters is that this—” you gestured to your head “—and this—” you placed a gentle hand over your wrapped thigh, petting a thumb over it “—are unrelated.” Belkar knew not to speak when you choked on your tears in search of words you weren’t even sure you wanted to say. “I was… Someone broke into my residence just before the explosion. And he.” You paused again, feeling Belkar’s grip tighten and relax over your trembling hand. You cleared your throat. “I was taken advantage of. He went down with the base. It would be pointless to report when the perpetrator is already dead.” Bloodied scissors flashed into your memory before you looked back up to Belkar.

He nodded, placing his second hand over yours. The warmth was welcome, and surprising. “Should I order an emergency contraceptive or a spermicide?” There wasn’t a fraction of discomfort when he asked the question. Complete care and professionalism. He felt safe.

“No, I don’t need that. I had a chip placed last year.” You ran your tongue over your teeth, swallowing before speaking again. “But, um. I was wondering if…”

“Yes?”

“Commander Ren,” you said, searching his eyes for judgment, “is he… How is he?” Your bottom lip would need to heal from chewing it so much.

Another warm, small smile lifted on Belkar’s face. “It’s admirable, your passion for his care. Even in your current state. Even with those wounds you only care about his wellbeing.” Fire bit at your face, your eyes falling back to the bed. “It’s the mark of a true healer. Setting aside your own pain to lessen someone else’s. Your patient’s.”

“Yeah, well,” you raised your eyebrows, “do you know how he’s doing?”

“Before I came in to examine you, I was actually on my way to see Commander Ren. Would you like to come with me?”

“I should probably…” You trailed off, finally feeling relief when thinking about seeing Kylo and avoiding Mason. “Do you think I can walk? How did the nurse say I was healing?”

Belkar scooted out from the chair and stood, offering you a hand for support. “I actually would prefer you start walking now to discourage clotting. It’s likely you can leave here tonight once its officially been twenty-four hours since your admission.”

He made sure to fix your gown so you weren’t exposed while standing before you could tie the lower fastener. He kept a hand lightly placed over your mid-back, the other now holding your hand. “How long has it been since I got here?”

He started you on a slow pace and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Robbie may have been the one to die, but death took residence in you; a bruise splotched out over your forehead, your hair flat and knotted, exhaustion shadowing your eyes. There were multiple bruises lining your arms, their origin a mystery, though you could only suspect a majority had come from the crowd of people you’d stormed through the stairwells with. The one injury you’d grown to cherish was masked by the ill-fitting white and grey patterned gown, the article most definitely shielding an additional multitude you were still unaware of.

“The Command Shuttle arrived soon after Starkiller exploded. Ren was transferred to medbay in less than a minute and began treatment within the next five upon arrival. You fainted before then.” He led you into the hall and began walking through the maze of bustling hallways. “You’ve been resting for nearly sixteen hours.”

“Sixteen. Stars.” The pain in your leg lessened the more you walked, seeing the faces of coworkers who last saw you that fateful night.

“We monitored your intracranial pressure for the first few hours, but it seems you were only severely exhausted and mildly dehydrated. Understandably, of course.” He took a familiar left turn and the entrance to the Elite medbay came into view. “I had entered orders to start you on oral antibiotic therapy as soon as you woke up, completely a prophylactic measure, but it won’t affect anything to hold off for now.”

Belkar swiped his badge across the scanner and the doors hissed open, your heart now thumping in your chest. The last time you’d seen Kylo, you’d assumed would be the last time. Even as you kept forward, nerves twisting your intestines, you couldn’t deny the need you felt to see him again. It scared you, though, imagining how he’d react to your presence.

“Um, maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t think Commander Ren needs any more visitors than necessary.” You stopped Belkar just before he swiped to open the door to your Master’s exclusive medbay.

“It’s a good thing neither of us are visitors.” The door shot open. “We’re his providers.” Belkar stepped past the threshold. “He wouldn’t mind either way,” you followed in after him, hesitant while you stared down at the floor, “I placed him in a therapeutic coma to keep him from disturbing the stitching in his wounds.”

This news brought your eyes up as you entered the room and felt the door shut behind you. Kylo Ren, outfitted in the same gown as you, was supine on the bed, unconscious. Peaceful. His gown was left unsnapped at the shoulders, a blanket resting above his hips and tucked under his wrists. The assessment table had been replaced, an IV pole set up on his left side, a monitor reading off the contents and status of the three current running fluids: metronidazole, normal saline, and a third – separate – line running a bag of packed red blood cells. Kylo was breathing on his own, though there was an intubation kit ready on the bedside table, you noticed while routinely scanning the room for necessary emergency intervention equipment.

Belkar rid the distance between him and Ren, your own feet stopping just before the door. The physician looked at you with a creased brow but quickly dissolved his expression as he accepted your decision. After setting his datapad down he gently peeled back Kylo’s gown, resting it over the blanket and then gesturing towards him with his hands.

“The coma was a last resort,” he began. “Commander Ren was exhibiting signs of delirium when my team began his care. After nearly two hours of noncompliance I wrote a STAT order to initiate it.” Belkar sighed, this fact disappointing to him.

“When you say delirium…” Your hands strangled in and out of fists, nervous fingers smoothing over the fabric of your gown while you looked on at your sleeping patient.

The physician’s mouth had settled into somewhat of a pout, considering your question. “Ren’s health history was scattered and scant in the archives, virtually nothing resembling a family history. It was most likely the physical trauma that caused it, but…” Belkar turned his body to you while keeping his eyes on Kylo. “Whenever any of the nurses or techs would attempt to orient him during those first two hours he kept telling us he’s dead.”

A single step took you further from the door. “Was.. Did he ever say who he was talking about? A name?” This information confounded you, leaving you to wonder whose death could possibly matter so much to Kylo Ren that he’d recount while his mental defenses were weakened?

A deeper, more frustrated sigh left Belkar. “There’s been so little time and the staff is already so overworked with all the new admissions.” He uncovered one of Kylo’s legs and checked the placement and setting of the compression device wrapped around it. “I appointed a droid to sift through the archives to find anything, to see if there was any information on a Ben.”

“Ben?”

“That’s who we assume is dead, as he kept repeating.”

“You assume? What does that mean?” Another step and your eyes shot to the vitals monitor, seeing his heart rate was in the low fifties. Bradycardic, hence the fluids.

“The two phrases came sporadically. At times he would say the name, and whenever any of the care team would ask him who Ben was…”

“They’d suddenly be at a loss for words?”

Belkar’s mouth quirked for half a second, falling quickly when he shifted the blanket back to its original place. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.” He looked at you again, contemplating, narrowing his eyes. “I imagine you’ve endured such acts. I only assume given—” he gestured to your leg.

Heat flared in your cheeks and your pulse picked up. Swallowing, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and crossed your arms. “Yes.” He didn’t seem to know why Kylo Ren had left his mark, only that he had. This brought you ease. “Yes, Commander Ren doesn’t have the best handle on his…anger. I suppose.”

Belkar swallowed, watching you. “Does he scare you?”

This caught you off guard, fingers biting into your arms when you took another step forward. “Does Kylo Ren scare me?” You took a few seconds to really think about it, feeling comfortable when you met Belkar’s eyes again, only a few paces from the bed now. “It would be counterintuitive to be afraid of my own patient.”

“Do you feel safe when you are working with him?” He was subtly attempting to screen you for abuse – well, further abuse – his face trying to hide the curiosity in his tone.

“Doctor Belkar, I do appreciate you’re worried for me. But it is misplaced. Now, would you tell me more about my patient, please?”

He was momentarily taken aback by your forward effort to change the subject. “I do apologize if my questions have made you uncomfortable. I noticed your hesitancy to be near him and thought-,”

“That’s unrelated, Doctor,” maybe in too harsh a manner, you bit his words off. You didn’t feel like telling the edited version of how you believed yourself to be the abuser when it came to Kylo, and you were sure Belkar, just as Mason, wouldn’t understand if you tried. “Will you please just tell me how he’s been doing?” A crack in your voice revealed how weak your defenses were.

The physician’s head nodded back slightly in understanding. Today was good for no one. Tensions were high. He knew you had just woken up after experiencing both known and unknown traumas. “Would you help me change his dressings while we discuss his care?” A truce, gentle and acknowledging.

Your shoulders fell with a breath you hadn’t realized was waiting to escape, your throat clearing when you walked to the drawers set up behind you. Activating one, you pulled out the necessary supplies and set them up as Belkar opened them. He walked you through the various monitors connected to Kylo – leeds stuck to his chest, a cuff around his upper right arm, the pumps over his legs, the IVs placed. He uncovered Ren’s pelvis and had you assess his catheter, mentioning the drainage bag below the bed. The antibiotics were prophylactic, just as yours would be; there had been too many unknowns around Ren’s injuries to not protect against potential sepsis.

When Belkar had completed his assessment – stopping to listen to breath and bowel sounds, motioning for you to do the same with the provided stethoscope to test your knowledge – you helped him fix the gown and sheets back over Kylo’s chest, your breath catching when your fingers brushed against his skin. The doctor tucked his datapad back under his arm and walked to the door, activating it before stepping out. However, you had remained at Kylo’s side, watching him as he slept.

“Doctor Belkar?” you called after him, not looking away from Kylo.

A sigh left him, this one fond. Kind. “A true healer.” He was thoughtful in tone. “Use the assistance indicator should you become faint. Should your friend inquire about your whereabouts-,”

“Tell him I’m okay—” you licked your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek “—tell Mason he can leave if he… Tell Mason he can leave.”

There was no response before the door hissed shut, allowing you to let free the whimper which had been stuck since you first set eyes on Kylo. You realized you’d never seen him asleep. The one night you’d shared his bed your focus just on that fact, not on observing him. That night had been the only time you’d seen his full heart, or at least more of it than you had. Now, standing beside him, still reluctant to get too close, you were crying just as he had. That night seemed like a separate lifetime, like a dream you’d only ever get to revisit in your memories now.

Tearing your eyes away from him, clearing your throat and thumbing away more tears, you ran your fingertips along the hanging fluids; the saline would need to be replaced soon, and the metronidazole was running at an accelerated rate. The blood, you checked the label, had been hung just prior to your arrival, the colloid causing you to stop and gently press into its plastic confines. A huff of weak amusement left you; it had never occurred to you that this blood would ever be used for its intended purpose, intended recipient. Seeing it running into Kylo’s veins, checking the transfusion sight for infiltration and redness, you felt a sort of sick irony settle into the room. This very fluid, more or less, would be your demise; it was capable of sustaining life, replenishing it, yet would be the very thing to end yours.

The monitor blinked in your periphery, catching your attention; his heart rate was improving, finally skimming the upper fifties, his respirations coming evenly. Steeling yourself, bunching your gown in your hands, you looked down at him. Kylo Ren, resting and vulnerable, lay below for your appraisal. Belkar had walked you through the proper routine to change his dressings, his abdominal wound and the one scraping across his shoulder healing well under the soaked gauze. The wound fixed along his face, however, had been created too awkwardly to be dressed as the others. A grafting patch had been placed along the length of the injury, a black stripe of the regenerative material precise in its placement.

There was so much pain etched into him, you wondered if his outward appearance now matched his inner, the thought choking you with a sob. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. It was silly to wait for a response, to look at him in anticipation, but you did.

It took several minutes of deliberation, but you eventually joined him in the bed, gently sitting on his right side as to not disturb anything. The tips of your right index and middle finger trailed along the ridges of the unbandaged wound, feeling his pulse in the raised flesh, landing on his forehead and brushing into his hair.

“Oh.” It startled you when your fingers got stuck in a mat at his ends. Rolling it between your fingers you found it to be dried, congealed blood. It wasn’t surprising; hair care was not the priority right now, the nurses already straining themselves without paying attention to trivial duties.

But you had time and he was here with no way of objecting, your hand cupping his face before you began gathering your supplies and setting them up. The silence was comforting for only a few minutes, soon leaving you to your thoughts, those which shuddered through you with images of Robbie and Snoke and Kylo.

“I don’t even know how we got here,” you mumbled while filling a basin with warm water. A bitter chuckle, a cough chasing it. “I do, actually. I know exactly how we got here.” Placing the full basin on the bedside table, carefully wheeling it to the head of his bed, you gazed over him. “Snoke. Mason. Rob-,” the name stuck in your throat. “The stormtrooper.”

Gentle thumbs tracked like feathers atop his cheekbones, your remaining fingers pushing into his thick locks and brushing it behind his ears. After admiring him for a moment longer you collected the necessary linen, grabbing three extra towels, four in total. Setting them up – one beneath him, another two rolled and resting atop his shoulders, and the last spread over your lap when you sat on a stool – you reached for the cup you’d earlier grabbed and filled it with water.

“I should’ve told you.” It seemed you would never stop crying; a tear struck his forehead as you poured the first cup over his head, ensuring to guard his eyes and ears. “I never… Snoke threatened Mason. He threatened him and all I could think was that I wouldn’t allow someone else to endure punishment meant for me.” Kylo’s hair darkened as it wet, the towel beneath him turning pink with diluted blood. “That wouldn’t be fair. Someone suffering because my own mistakes? No. No, that would be selfish. Selfish and, and… I don’t know.” A sigh and a swallow. “I don’t know.”

With a second cup you wet the rest of his locks and lathered shampoo between your hands. “I woke up yesterday hating you, wishing I was dead so I didn’t have to see you after that day. I fucking hate him so much!” Your chin trembled in anger, imagining Snoke knowing this was happening, wondering how much he really knew, if he could see while Kylo slept. “And it wasn’t even… That’s what I hate the most. You had so little say in it, so little choice and I spent a whole month, wasted so much time, hating the wrong person. Hating you.”

Rolling his ends between your fingers, you scrubbed at the mats until they became loose. “I wish you could know that everything I told you was a lie. You were right about it all. I don’t hate you.” Words came easier, tears still streaming with ease, yet your throat clearing with each admission. “Maybe in the beginning when I didn’t know so much, when I didn’t know you. Maybe then I had wanted to, but it’s an impossibility now. Today made me realize that.” A pause while you watched his chest tide, stopping to recount the apology you’d known to give him, remembering how it felt as he held you – broken, raw – in his arms. “Today made me realize a lot of things.”

The last mat had been the toughest, your fingers rolling and rubbing for nearly five minutes until it softened. “Can I… I mean, I know you can’t answer, but…” Your throat got thick again, burning as you tried to swallow a sob. Closing your eyes, you dropped the subject, not wanting to recount the event to even an absent mind yet.

Clearing your throat, you began again, instead recalling the various mentions of Kylo Ren’s history during the past day. “Maybe I don’t know as much about you as others do, though.” Water drenched the towel below his head as you massaged the soap out of his hair, your pulse quickening as you thought about your next question. “The old man. The one on Jakku… He mentioned something about a time before Kylo Ren, or something like that. How did he even know you? How did you know him?”

Working your way through his hair, you rinsed until there were no bubbles remaining. Questioning him felt foreign; if he were awake he would have surely stopped you from continuing. Or from starting at all. But you pressed on, wanting to distract yourself from the reality that lurked in the back of your mind.

“And then later, when I…” Warmth spread through you at the memory of his bed, him setting you there, holding onto him until he left. You tried to hide the pain in your throat, knowing if you allowed yourself to sob once you’d surely lose the ability to stop. “I heard you. When you were speaking to someone, talking to your grandfather. Was he in there with you? Or were you on a commlink?” You shrugged, knowing all of these inquiries were in vain. “My maternal grandfather passed away before I began university. I never met the other one. Something about family secrets and drama and blah blah blah.”

Another tear fell to Kylo’s face, remembering the pain you’d felt losing someone for the first time, remembering how helpless you were to change anything. A sigh of desperate defeat left you. “I must be cursed. A true healer? Maybe in another life. In this one it seems I can only save a life in turn for another, be it mine or someone I care about.”

After rinsing your hands in the basin, you gathered conditioner on the tips of your fingers and began working it into the now clean ends. A whimper came in place of the stuck sob, breathing becoming difficult as you denied it life. “You said that to me, remember? The night I had gone to Mason. Not exactly but, you said something along the lines of me only listening when the things I value are threatened. It seems the two things go hand in hand; I can’t help anyone without hurting someone else, I can’t make a decision without being forced into it, without being threatened should I make one wrong choice.”

A hand smoothed over the last remaining tendril of hair, soft with the new product, your chest heavy with regret and hindsight. “You wanted me to give my whole self to the First Order. I did, Kylo. And now… I have nothing. There’s nothing left and it’s my fault.” Mason’s worried expression flitted into your mind’s eye. “And if I do have anything left… It’s nothing I want.” Closing your eyes, you ran the pad of your thumb along the rim of the cup, clutching it to your chest. “I wish I could go back. Earlier when I… When I came home. I wish I had told you then. If I had, maybe neither of us would be pawns in Snoke’s game. If I’d told you, maybe I wouldn’t have been-,”

Pain speared you with daggers of rejection. There was no easy or gentle way to confront the truth. No matter if you’d briefly mentioned it with Belkar earlier; to verbalize it, to say out loud what had gone one, scared you. It made it real, gave it power and life. But this would be the only way you’d get to confess to it; soon you’d be alone, left to relive the act over and over until it would be all that remained. It would consume you if you let it.

“I was raped.” You said it before it got stuck again. Finally, after choking on it for so long, that sob broke free, cries grating against your sore throat. “It was the stormtrooper. The one you’d set out to protect me from. The one Snoke had told me you’d been thinking about.” A shaky hand collected another cup of water and let it rinse the conditioner away. “RB-6745. Robbie. Shit! I’m so, so stupid! I’m so dumb I wish I could fucking die! It would be so much easier if I could just stop…existing, if I could just stop breathing it would all be- none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t- damn it!” A roar tore through clenched teeth before you dragged the towel set across your lap and smothered it against your face.

Scream after scream after scream left you, each one more painful than the last, more broken than the last. The towel collected what tears had set on your cheeks, your voice diminishing before you had the sense to stop yourself from continuing. With the damp cloth draped over your hands, you rested your head in your palms, heaves and hiccups unbidden and unrelenting.

“I gave him a name, Kylo. I did. I gave him a name and I started all of this,” muffled, you finally confronted the truth you had been so unwilling to acknowledge. A bitter crack of laughter left. “You will only ever be the start and end of the issue,” you echoed Snoke, voice distant and decimated. “Yeah, well. I guess he was right. I did start it.” Pulling the towel from your face, staring down at the peace painted over your Master, a cold shiver stalled your lungs. “I started it. And I ended it.”

Silence once more met you with suffocation. Studying Kylo’s face – noticing his eyelashes, the cracked nature of his dry lips, finding a fondness in the angle of his nose – you took a deep breath and settled into your new reality, accepting it as it would be, allowing yourself to begin healing as he was before you. “I killed him. I left him to bleed out just before Starkiller exploded. He’s dead.”

The last phrase reminded you as you finished your task, patting the towel into his hair, lifting his head to fully dry him. “Whoever Ben is… and if he’s dead or not –” you rested the towel over your left thigh “—I wonder if I knew him.” Another thought of Kylo’s figurative family. “I wonder if he knew you.”

Once you left here your privileges as his provider would be revoked; when he would wake and sign the proper documents, notify the necessary people, every tie you had to him would be severed. So, to indulge in one last moment, you parted a triangle of hair from the center of his hairline, separated it into three equal sections, and began the simple pattern: left over middle, right over middle, adding hair with each repetition to create a continuous, tight braid. Aside from giving you more time with him, the style would discourage any new mats from forming.

Repeating this process two more times, one more on each side of his head, you made sure that the hair that couldn’t be contained was brushed and flat beneath him. You set a towel under his head to collect any remaining moisture and prevent knotting. The clean-up process was leisurely, your focus shifting to his monitor every now and then to see he was no longer bradycardic. The last time you checked the monitor, a normal sinus rhythm tracing along the display, you found his pulse had risen to sixty-seven beats per minute.

Finished clearing the last of your mess, you sat on the stool, still at the head of his bed. No matter the new addition setting into features – though, in a way, it suited him well – you admired him; here he was at peace. Resting. Healing. The sobs had died out but tears were still liberal in their formation, another falling to hit the inner corner of his right eye. You collected it, chewing your lip before leaning down and again tracing along the outer region of the wound.

Kylo’s breath warmed over your forehead in the proximity, your own catching as it all became too much. Placing your hands on either side of his face so the tips of your fingers held loosely over his jaw, you brought your lips to rest on his. Kylo couldn’t reciprocate it, you knew, but this would be your goodbye.

“I wish I could have given you more than this,” you whispered, lips brushing against his own. “More than anything, Kylo, I wanted to give you more than this.”

Trembling lips pressed into his, your tears reviving the dry flesh, a whimper leaving when he remained still. He would never kiss you back again, the thought piercing as warmth slipped from your cheeks and onto his. However long you stayed like this, your face on his, you tried to silence the reality looming over you. But you couldn’t stay here forever, and you’d probably been gone for far too long already.

Leaning up from him your nose drew a faint line up his bridge, feather-light lips setting against his forehead in a final show of unrequited adoration. With a breath your spine straightened, eyes strict in their effort to keep forward. There was no moment of hesitancy as you passed the threshold and left the Elite wing; if you had indulged in a final glance, you knew you’d have never left.

On the journey back to your room – head hung low, teeth rooted in an effort to stop the trembling of your bottom lip – you met a stiff wall of muscle as someone exited a room, your feet stumbling back before you completely fell backwards, landing on your tailbone. The room spun when you opened your eyes after hitting the floor, a gloved hand extending down and offering you assistance. Taking it, you looked up to find General Hux.

He looked as you did, exhaustion heavy in his features before he was struck by your identity. He didn’t recoil, though, pulling you up and even steadying you for a couple seconds. Hux’s eyes darted to the bandage on your forehead and quickly over your gown, narrowing only slightly when he appraised the red rims of your own. He remained silent, retracting his hand as he nodded once.

“Officer,” he acknowledged. “I heard about your fainting spell.” His tone lacked the animosity you had come to expect.

You took hold of the wall support, looking up at him, confused at his sudden civility. “Oh.” It was the best you could do right now.

Something about him seemed off. Even as he remained more guarded than most humans you knew, it appeared as though something had him worried. Maybe it was the fall out from Starkiller that had him acting out. He had just lost men.

“Is there an official count yet?” you asked, filling the silence.

Hux swallowed, the corners of his mouth dipping before he returned to his normal façade, his shoulder going up and back when his stance shifted. “Nice work during the transport.”

“Thank…you. Uh, thank you, General.”

Another nod and he turned away from you and walked out of sight. A crease bit at your brow. How strange. Or maybe it wasn’t. The last twenty-four hours had been less than favorable for the entire First Order. Nobody could be expected to be at their best right now. Or even at their normal.

Before you started down the hall, your periphery caught view of the room where Hux had come, your heart falling. Confusion was drowned by new concern. Talia was slumped into her shoulder, asleep while she sat upright, both arms resting at her sides to reveal bruises from multiple IV attempts. There was one line running from her left forearm which led up to a bag of fluids, the contents of which you couldn’t read from a distance.

Peaking around the hall, you ducked into her room and clicked the door shut with your back, keeping the volume to a minimum as to not wake her. It seemed like a week had passed since you saw her seize, Snoke’s men abducting you before you could aid in her care. It had been less than a full day.

Walking up to her right side you noted the oxygen secured over her ears, a nasal cannula delivering two liters per minute. Nothing excessive. That was good. But still curious. The fluid bag was filled with electrolyte replacement, another bag hanging empty behind it. Looking for more clues, you found the information board to be devoid of any recent updates, only indicating her nurse and the continuation of the current fluids. There was a check mark next to a note which read sterile urine specimen, CBC, CMP.

When you kicked your foot under her bed, swinging it mindlessly while holding onto the upper bed rail, something skidded beneath your sock. In a manner which didn’t stress your wounds, you knelt to the ground and picked up the item. It was a white square, shiny material which glinted under the harsh fluorescents. Holding one corner, it unfolded to reveal a second half. Turning it over, eyes blinking back to make sure you were reading the images correctly.

Everything was in the right spot, every label and measurement and identifier correct and official. Dropping completely to the floor, your legs splayed across each other, you peaked up at your friend and back to the printed picture multiple times, not knowing what to make of the situation.

Talia was pregnant.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #st kyp #ao3

24 notes · View notes

big-ass-magnet · 3 years

Text

When History Comes Calling, Ch 5/14

art by @snuffes

Fandom: Mass Effect Rating: Teen Pairing: none, some background Fshep/Garrus

Summary: In 2170, Mindoir was attacked by slavers. Hundreds were taken captive, hundreds more were slaughtered. Kiryn was the only Shepard to make it out alive. For years, he buried his grief, kept his head high, and did whatever he needed to survive.He survived Mindoir and the batarians and when the Reapers came he survived them too.

But when the war ends and he escapes his batarian masters to the Citadel, the discovery that his twin sister is alive and well might just be the thing that breaks him. The Hegemony's greatest assassin will remember what it means to have something to lose.

AO3 link in notes!

Silversun Strip was…certainly something. Kiryn had been through his fair share of space stations, and this riot of shining glass and neon lights made them all look like space-bound towns. Actually, now that he thought about it, the Strip outpaced quite a few cities he’d seen, too.

This was another one of the few barely-scathed areas, although less because it had been well protected and more likely because it contained nothing the Reapers would have considered vital to survival. Clearly the genocidal synthetics from beyond dark space had never heard how important enrichment was for an organic’s mental wellbeing. Even here, though, there were signs of a struggle -- unpatched bullet holes in the walls and ripped up floor panels roped off as tripping hazards.

Nowhere to get away from it, Kiryn thought, even on your days off.

Kiryn moved with the flow of the crowd, letting them carry him down the streets as he planned his entrance. The easiest way to get inside an apartment building was through the service entrance. Half the time someone had propped the door open and you could stroll right in.

When he reached the right alleyway, he extricated himself from the crush of people, turned the corner, and scrapped the plan because there were two undercover officers hovering outside the building. They were doing their best to stay hidden, and their Citadel janitorial staff outfits looked legitimate. But they watched the doors a little too closely, kept their hands a little too close to their jackets, stood a little too warily.

So he ducked into the nearest building, which did have the service entrance propped open. He strolled down the corridor, through the lobby, and back out into the street. No sign of anyone watching the front entrance, which was interesting. Likely they were putting their trust in the building’s electronic security system. No trouble there; Kiryn knew his way around those, too.

This would be a little trickier, though. There was no way to avoid being seen, so he had to rely on not being remembered. Kiryn stuck his hands in his pockets and relaxed his shoulders, arranged his expression into one of mild interest. Nice and casual, everyone is supposed to be where they are. He strolled past the furniture store, pretended to be briefly intrigued by the sale on bed frames (five hundred credits off full size or bigger!), and finally approached Tiberius Towers’ front entrance.

He hit the call button for 15B. No response. Good. His assumption had been a safe bet: anyone who would have been in the apartment would be with Shepard. With Keris. With his sister.

Find the moment.

Stay focused.

He hit the button again.

Kiryn heaved a sigh, put on an expression of exasperation, and leaned on the button. If there had been anyone in the apartment, they would have answered by now just to make the noise stop. He pretended not to notice the turian woman approaching until she was right next to him.

“Um, excuse me.”

Kiryn glanced up and hurriedly stepped aside.

“Sorry,” he said, with an embarrassed smile. “My friend isn’t picking up.”

“That’s okay, I can let you in.”

He filed away the code she keyed in as he said “appreciate it.”

She gave him a little half-wave as she entered the elevator; he returned it as he opened the door to the stairs. Instead of climbing, however, he ducked into the shadows beneath them and took a look at the security system.

It wasn’t bad, not by a long shot, but he’d gotten around harder systems for less important people. It took less than thirty seconds to slip under the security firewalls and upload a virus that would loop the video as he went by. Anyone watching would see empty stairs.

All fifteen flights of them.

Maybe he should have taken the elevator.

Fifteen flights gave him a long time to think. He should upgrade his omni-tool. Top-of-the-line in the Hegemony tended to be middling quality anywhere else, even if you went through the black market. He should find a more comprehensive map of the Citadel, and find which areas were the dangerous ones. Experience told him that the law was likely concentrated at the Presidium, and got more diluted the further away you went.

Equally important was finding an easy way in and out of the refugee camp. Sarah had been right about the Citadel’s priorities. The guards at the doors were very concerned with who came and went. Security reasons, they claimed, when anyone could tell it was because they didn’t want the grubby little refugees actually on the Citadel, just in case they bothered the locals or, god forbid, started to think they could make a home here.

Dad would have had a conniption, he thought, and nearly missed a step in his surprise.

Perhaps he should be less surprised. Keris was alive. Of course that would drag those thoughts to the surface.

Thomas Shepard had very strong opinions about duty and responsibility, especially in regards to officers of the law. Kiryn had heard quite a few rants about what should happen to public servants who did not serve the public. Dad didn’t much approve of soldiers, either. Armies were built on the promise of protecting the people, and politicians turned them into tools for their own ends.

What would he think of his daughter joining the Navy?

Soldiers hunt soldiers, but Shepards hunt--

Kiryn stopped, midstep. He couldn’t remember. It had practically been the family motto, and he couldn’t remember. He could remember sitting at the table during dinner, his father gesturing with his fork, a four-way eyeroll between the Shepard children…

Shepards hunt...

This was pointless. What did it matter? He had more important things to do than try and remember things like that.

Besides, he was on the fifteenth floor. He checked again that the video was still looping correctly. That was a lesson you only had to learn once. As soon as he was sure it was safe, he pushed open the door and stepped confidently into the hallway. Not that it mattered -- but if anyone opened their door unexpectedly, he didn’t want to appear suspicious.

The door to apartment 15B opened as soon as he touched it.

Genetic sequence recognized.

It was a paranoid individual who used gene coded locks on their front door. He supposed Commander Shepard would have a lot of enemies.

Kiryn stepped inside and stopped dead, eyes wide. Oh, this was very, very far from the prefab housing on Mindoir. Filomet’s estate had been quite high status, thanks to the work Kiryn did for him, but it seemed downright spartan in comparison to this.

Filomet certainly didn’t have an indoor waterfall, that was for sure.

Or a hot tub.

For a few minutes he didn’t do much searching, just wandered around taking it all in. When he did start, it was a little disappointing. The apartment had a strange, semi-empty feeling that had nothing to do with it being new. Like a hotel, he thought. The art was tasteful and impersonal. All the furniture matched.

It was a place to stay, not a place to live.

The apartment was definitely inhabited, though, and by more than one person. There was food in the fridge and the cabinets, chirality carefully delineated by colored tape and, on occasion, sharpie. DEXTRO COFFEE, DO NOT DRINK, KAIDAN THIS MEANS YOU promised a very interesting story. The beds were made, but rumpled; there were a variety of products in the (three!) bathrooms.

The master bedroom felt no more lived in. There was a credit chit and a datapad on the bedside table, but no pictures, no clutter. At last Kiryn hit paydirt in the walk-in closet: a weapons table and an armor locker.

From the scattered mods and spare parts he could see she carried multiple firearms, but favored assault rifles and shotguns -- she liked it up close and personal. There were a few melted pieces that suggested she had a tendency to push her thermal clips a little too far. Kiryn felt a warm sensation in his chest. Fondness. In this way, at least, Keris had not changed.

Kiryn opened the locker. Her armor was black, but a deep black that would stand out anywhere but a sealed bunker underground. The crisp white and red stripes seemed to glow in contrast. Kiryn picked up the chest plate and nearly dropped it again. It was hard to imagine Keris could walk in this, let alone fight!

He tilted the chest plate this way and that, watching the lustrous finish shine in the light. Keris was the target. She sacrificed speed and mobility for armor that could brush off anything short of cannon fire, drawing the attention and the danger to herself, hitting the enemy head on like a battering ram.

Yes, that sounded very like Keris.

Kiryn nearly smiled as he put the armor back in place.

There were spare clothes in the drawers, but only two items hanging in the closet: a dress uniform, and an actual dress. Beneath them, shiny parade shoes and a pair of sensible black heels a full two inches higher than he’d ever seen Keris wear in his life.

The dress was the only really nice piece of clothing Keris owned, although Kiryn personally thought she could have found a nicer one. (The neckline alone was fifty years out of date, and he wasn’t even going to touch on those red highlighting lines.) There were a scant few articles of non-regulation clothing; by the looks of things she wore her crewman’s uniform even on her days off. That was...worrying. He didn’t remember her being much of a peacock, but she wouldn’t wear the same outfit twice in two weeks, let alone every single day. Kiryn never cared--

No. No, it was the other way around, wasn’t it?

Kiryn was the one who had cared. He’d spend an hour in the bathroom just doing his hair. He was the one who made sure his shoes matched his outfit; who complained about pale skin making it impossible to wear yellow without looking jaundiced. Keris would just throw on whatever her hand touched first, and dutifully go back and change when he told her for the fifth time, Ker, you can’t wear two kinds of stripes at once!

But she’d always liked it when they matched.

Kiryn looked down and brushed a hand over his shirt - dark gray, long sleeves, close fitting. It wasn’t all that different from what he wore on a job, minus some padding. He didn’t have much room to judge, did he? You could argue that slaves didn’t exactly have access to the latest fashions or the funds to buy them with. But he hadn’t been a slave for almost a year, and he hadn’t changed anything about his appearance.

He even still shaved his head.

Kiryn closed the drawers and walked away, not liking the tightness in his chest those thoughts brought on.

The first bug went in the office by the computer, before he tried to crack Keris’ password. It wasn’t any of the ones he remembered, so he had to let his omnitool take over. While he did so, he poked around in the boxes scattered around the room. Keris -- or someone else -- was halfway through taking down or putting up a collection of books and medals. He looked at the medals, but they didn’t match the accolades Keris was supposed to have earned. One of the books looked heavily used; he flipped it open. To David, so you can have another kind of adventure. Love, Kaylie.

David. Who was David? The tabloids made enough of a fuss over Keris’ imaginary paramours, surely they would have mentioned it if she was actually seeing someone.

For that matter, who was Kaylie?

His omnitool flashed, notifying him that the hack was complete. He checked to see the password -- I<3Garrus. Hopefully the contents of her computer would be able to solve that little mystery.

Kiryn set his program to download anything not labelled confidential, urgent, or as being sent from the Alliance. He had no interest in top secret projects and black ops missions. The program cheerfully informed him that it wouldn’t take long, as his requests filtered out almost the entire backlog.

Most people would advise against poking around in your sister’s extranet browsing history, but Kiryn was willing to risk it. No luck there either. The last time she’d used the computer was almost a month ago, mostly to read news articles and browse furniture catalogues.

Kiryn wasn’t sure if it was more frustrating or concerning. His sister didn’t seem to do much outside of… being Commander Shepard. Even saviors of the galaxy had to have free time. Didn’t she ever take shore leave?

What do you like to do?

It didn’t seem right. It was… logical that he would end up this way. But Keris was free. She had been able to choose. Why would she choose to be like...like him? If he had been free, would he still have ended up like this? No life, no purpose, no existence outside of his work?

With a whole galaxy on her shoulders, maybe she’d felt there wasn’t time for anything else. Maybe now that it was all over, things would be different for her.

Maybe they should be different for him, too.

The rest of the apartment was unhelpfully empty. He left his last bug in the kitchen, and made a mental note to get more. Alcohol loosened tongues; it would be good to have an ear at the bar. Feeling a little disappointed, Kiryn could only hope that the emails would be more enlightening.

He forwent the shuttle to the refugee camp in favor of walking. He had some things to pick up, after all. And it was harder to be introspective when he walked. Too much to focus on in the real world.

A new omni-tool, as he’d promised himself, although it would take a few hours of voiding the warranty to get it to do the things he needed it to do. Some mods for his sniper rifle -- the Hegemony was wrong about a lot of things, and the superiority of Batarian State Arms was now very high on his list. He’d have to find someplace out of sight where he could work on his gun, though.

Kiryn was pondering whether renting a hotel room for a few hours for the privacy to work on his very illegal rifle was as ridiculous as it sounded, when he saw something that made him stop.

The store was called Terran. It sold clothes. Nice clothes that looked to be good quality, from this distance. Suits and dresses and casual wear. And leather jackets.

He’d been saving up for one before…before. Had it all picked out, knew exactly what he wanted. It cost a lot of money to ship out to little colonies in the middle of nowhere. He’d barely been halfway to his goal when…

Why shouldn’t he buy one now? He had the money. He could wear whatever he wanted to, now.

Kiryn began to walk towards the store, but a few feet away, he froze.

He didn’t need another jacket. It had no tactical advantage over what he already had. And how could he explain it when he got back to the camp? Refugees didn’t wear things like that any more than slaves did.

Kiryn stared at his reflection in the storefront window. The pale, drawn face so carefully free of emotion. Placid eyes like green glass, hooded and empty. There was no way to tell by looking at him that he was one of the most feared assassins in batarian space. The blood on his hands was invisible to everyone but himself. Everything about him faded into the background, and that was by design and necessity.

He turned on his heel and headed for the shuttle. The sooner he got back to the camp, the sooner he could check Keris’ emails.

#mass effect #commander shepard #femshep #dudeshep #twin au #alternate universe fic #i'm sorry it's so late i got sick orz

3 notes · View notes

dailyservingofhope · 4 years

Text

Bodies (Chapter 2)

Kyoko noticed first.

Maybe it was the monotone voice, or the way my eyelids drooped with world-weary cynicism. Something about me betrayed that I was no longer myself in the most literal way possible.

She lurched back, "It's him!"

The fifteen seconds that followed were a roller-coaster. Not those rickety, old wooden coasters. I'm talking about the metal ones that hurl you screaming through dives, loops, and corkscrews so fast, you can't even anticipate the next section before you've already rocketed through it.

After Kyoko alerted the room to Izuru's presence, an armed security team appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and just an arm's reach away. They must have hid themselves in the shadows, but even then, shouldn't I have heard them close in? And why were they raising their guns at an empty pod? By the time I realized they were aiming at MY pod, and that I had closed the distance without even noticing, my hands had already disarmed the nearest guard with a few deft movements. Then my legs whipped around in a tornado kick that sent her flying into the other guards, knocking them over like bowling pins.

Finally, Izuru raised my arm, which still held the confiscated handgun, and fired a series of quick, perfect shots aimed to cripple each guard's trigger finger. Their weapons clattered to the ground.

Izuru's power and apathy stunned me. So much blood, and the noise from the gunfire was incredible, yet Izuru strolled through the carnage, collecting the remaining guns as casually as a kid picking flowers. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't even control that.

"Stop!" Makoto shouted, laughably late. He ran in front of Izuru and stretched out his arms protectively. He seemed so small next to Izuru's overwhelming presence, but his bravery was admirable. This was the person we all put our trust in.

Izuru said, "I have no intention of harming any of you so long as you do not harm Hajime. There's no sense in violence between us. However, I will not allow you to point weapons at him." His voice through my mouth unsettled me, like when you hear yourself speak in an audio recording for the first time. It's technically you, but something just seems off about it.

"They're under my orders not to fire unless I say so, and I don't plan on saying so," Makoto said before turning his attention to a communication device pinned to his suit. "I need medical assistance in the pod room."

As Makoto and the rest of the trio tried to appease the moaning, pissed-off guards, I overheard Kyoko whisper to Byakuya, "Sedating the survivors was a good idea. Letting them all wake up at once probably wouldn't have ended well."

It was true. We were still dangerous. Even I was afraid of us.

The nurses quickly arrived and began escorting the wounded away when Izuru spoke up, "Hajime is hurt too." He raised my fists to show the broken skin on my knuckles from punching the glass lid.

Everyone gaped at him.

I almost laughed at how ridiculous it was. The guy who just shot up an entire security team was now worried about a few cuts and scrapes. I wondered why he even bothered asking when he seemed content to act on his own in every other way. Was he trying to... work with them?

Makoto forgot how to speak for a moment. His jaw worked until his words caught up, "Yeah, can someone please assist him with that? Oh, and Izuru? We'll be there shortly to ask you some questions."

"I will answer any question I deem acceptable." Izuru said while a very terrified-looking nurse led him away.

A fragment of glass plinked into a dish, then another. Izuru, armed with a pair of tweezers, cleared the debris from my wounds with a level of care that I didn't expect from him. The nurse offered to help, but he refused, insisting that he could do a better job himself. It was astoundingly rude, but I couldn't deny how painless it was when Izuru handled it.

Still, there was no way I'd give him a compliment after what he did. I scowled at him, however one scowls without a face of their own.

He ignored me, focusing instead on washing my wounds with soap and warm water. It felt strange, but pleasant. The hand he used to massage my wounded knuckles felt like it belonged to another person, like it belonged to Izuru. I blushed at the sensation of him sliding his soapy palm up and down my hand.

"Do you want me to stop?" Izuru transmitted.

"Uh... Yeah, I think they're clean enough."

He dried my hand and applied ointment, then finished with a bandage. "I know you're unhappy not being in control, but this will go more quickly and easily for you if you let me answer their questions."

"Fine, but once you're done, this body is mine."

"I predict you will decide otherwise when you hear what I have to say. So calm down, elevated levels of cortisol are linked to a variety of health problems."

I was about to transmit a big "fuck off" when Kyoko entered the room.

"If you're ready, please come with us."

Compared to the futuristic pod room, the conference room looked dilapidated. The lack of cobwebs and dust told me someone cleaned it recently, but long term structural damage from years of neglect couldn't be wiped away with a wet cloth. The walls cracked and water damage warped the floor. It was obvious they spent all their resources on the pod room. On us.

My shame at being powerless to control Izuru, after everything they did for us, made me feel tiny and pathetic. I wished I had the confidence to vow never to let it happen again, but at that moment, I was like a child locked away in a room. I was at the mercy of someone stronger; someone that my small, reserve-course mind didn't know how to reason with.

I sulked in the background as Makoto, Kyoko, and Byakuya interrogated Izuru. His answers helped me to fill some gaps in my memory, but there was one thing I kept asking myself.

As if he could read my thoughts, Makoto asked for me, "Why did you do this? Why did you upload the Junko AI into the simulation?"

"I had a question. Of hope and despair, I needed to weigh their merits and decide once and for all which side I would take. But I couldn't determine the answer with the knowledge I had on hand, so I ran an experiment. I learned of the simulation you were developing and concluded it would be a sufficient stage."

"There's something I don't understand. You seem to want to protect Hajime, yet you allowed that to happen to him?"

"I did not foresee him being harmed in any of my calculations."

Did I hear him right? Did he really just say that?

What kind of soulless freak did those scientists turn me into? All the death, the fear, the doubt, the grief. He didn't consider that harmful? My friends and I could have been happy! We could have walked out of that simulation, together! Now, we were either dead or traumatized. All because of him. Not harmed? I wanted to scream! I wanted to wrap my fingers around my own throat! I wanted to stand up and...

Somehow, the force of my emotions was enough to reclaim control. Rage flooded my chest until it burned away the cold of Izuru's grip on me. I leaped out of my chair, slammed my hands on the table and shouted, "That's wrong!"

Everyone looked surprised, including me. I'd fought Izuru and won. Even if it was only this one battle, that still meant something. And now that I could speak again, I just wanted to be heard. "I WAS harmed! It hurt to see my friends die! It hurt to live in fear every day that I would be next! I'm covered in wounds you can't even see!"

Emotionally spent, I flopped back in my chair and wept. I didn't care that others could see me cry. I was tired. So tired.

Through my sobs I thought I heard Izuru transmit a faint "I'm sorry", but that couldn't be right.

After my quaking body relaxed, Kyoko said softly, "Hajime, I assume we're talking to you now. I'm sorry, we misunderstood your situation. When we spoke to you and Izuru as distinct, separate individuals, we thought you were like a friend of ours who has a condition called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Do you know what that is?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it," I said, wiping my face with a hand. "It's like multiple personalities right?"

"Something like that... Although most people with that disorder aren't aware of their other 'personalities' and don't know what they say or do when they're in control. We assumed you were dormant. Hajime, if we had known you were aware and listening this entire time, this would have gone differently."

"Why are you so worried about me, you should be locking me up. I can't control him." I muttered.

Makoto looked horrified, "We didn't release you just to lock you up again! Don't give up hope. Izuru seems to care about you. Maybe we can convince him to not take control without asking."

Byakuya stood up, "Makoto, I've let you try things your way, but your naivete is going to kill us. Izuru is clearly using Hajime as a shield. He's counting on our leniency because whatever we do to Izuru, we do to Hajime. There must be something he still wants from us. That's why we're not dead."

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions, but that is something I've been wondering about," Kyoko said. "Do you know why he's so protective of you, Hajime?"

That now familiar sensation of cold water once again flooded through me. Izuru regained control and held it fast.

"That is not an acceptable question," he said.

Why was he so flighty around the subject of me? I suddenly found myself intensely curious. Maybe I could find a weakness in that nearly impenetrable armor.

"He's Izuru again." Kyoko sighed, "Do you realize it's unfair to Hajime to keep taking over without asking? Bodily autonomy is a basic human right."

"You misunderstand. I have no interest in taking control of his life. There's nothing I want out here. As soon as I've done my job, the body is his."

Makoto smiled, "That's great! Thanks for being so reasonable about it!"

"Wait," Byakuya said. "What is this 'job' exactly?"

"Hajime's friends who died in the simulation, I can revive them. All of them."

#kamuhina #hajime hinata #izuru kamukura #danganronpa #sdr2 #my fic

45 notes · View notes

chilling-seavey · 4 years

Text

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Fourteen

A/N My queue wasn’t working last night so I forced myself to wait to upload the next chapter directly. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this one ;)

Friday, November 29th, 2019

The 25th was Corbyn’s twentieth birthday; so the following Friday night he wanted to go out with his friends to celebrate. Despite Daniel’s protests, Corbyn decided to invite Florence too. She was also his friend and he knew she needed some time to relax, away from her motherly responsibilities. Aidan convinced his parents to take Clementine for the night as he knew Florence wouldn’t come along if no one would watch the baby. A club was not the best place for a ten month old.

At 8pm, the doorbell rang to the boys’ house and Aidan ran to answer it. Florence and Emilio stood on the doorstep hand in hand. One look at the girl in front of him and Aidan’s mouth fell open. She simply smiled at him and walked inside, leaving Emilio to greet a stunned Aidan and follow her towards the living room.

Her black four inch heels clicked over the wood floors, drawing the eyes of the boys who were sat around the living room. As if all at once, they raked their wide eyes down her tight red dress that ended mid-thigh and was cut low down her chest. Her fuller chest finally filled out the top of her favourite old cocktail dress, hugging her soft post-childbirth curves beautifully. Her blonde hair was straightened over her shoulders and thick black eyeliner coated her blue eyes, the look completed with vibrant red lipstick.

“Hey.” Florence said to the boys in the room who still sat in stunned silence. She didn’t seem to notice their gawking. It was still proof of the slight innocence that pumped through her veins.

They all mumbled a greeting. Daniel, who avoided looking at her as she came in, finally looked up, his eyes almost popping out of his head. Sure, he’d seen her dressed up before, but nothing like this. Instinctively, his tongue ran over his lips, a blush rising to his cheeks at only looking at the girl in front of him.

Emilio coming up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist made Daniel sigh and look back to the ground.

“Ok.” Aidan clapped his hands once to snap the room back to reality. Florence was almost like a sister to him and having his friends next to drooling over her made him slightly uncomfortable.

The boys in the room all started talking innocently, getting up and gathering their few things they needed to take with them. Zach walked up to Florence and held out a small card.

“What’s this?” she took it from him and looked it over. It was his drivers license.

“Jack helped me get it.” Zach pointed to the birthday line which read as if he were 19.

“Oh my God!” Florence gaped. “It looks so real!”

“I know!” Zach beamed, taking the card back from her and smiled down at it proudly.

“If you act so excited about it, they’ll catch on.” Jonah told his friend. “And I’m not bailing anyone out of jail today.”

“No getting arrested on my birthday!” Corbyn said.

“Even though it was four days ago.” Florence chuckled, pulling him in for a hug. “Happy belated birthday.”

“Thanks.” Corbyn smiled.

“Hurry up! The subway will leave without us!” Zach shouted as he walked towards the door.

“Don’t make me put you in one of those kid leashes.” Aidan taunted. Zach frowned up at him. The group filed out of the house and headed towards the subway. Florence and Emilio walked hand in hand behind Aidan and Jonah who led the way. Jack, Zach, and Corbyn talked loudly from behind them, pushing each other over people’s lawns and into the street. Florence looked behind her, past the wild group of three, to where Daniel trailed behind them, alone. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of his denim jacket and he stared at the ground, kicking pebbles in his path. Emilio brought her hand up to his lips and he kissed it softly, making her turn her attention away from Daniel.

“He’s fine.” Emilio whispered. “Just give him time.”

Florence wanted to protest to that statement, wanting to do nothing less than turning and screaming at her so-called best friend to just love her again. She missed his warm presence, his lively smile, and how he was always there for her when she felt her worst. She felt empty without him next to her.

The trip through the subway earned Florence plenty of stares from guys and girls alike. Emilio held her hand proudly, not failing to pull the unaware girl against his chest if an older man stared at her for too long. They were the same height, Florence able to lean her head on his shoulder comfortably. Of course her height and her heels only accentuated her long legs, some of the boys from their group who were sitting on their way trying desperately to look anywhere but at her as she stood in front of them. Daniel was facing away from them, his head against the window. When they arrived into the downtown core, Jonah had to nudge him to get off the subway.

The night was young and the city was bustling, thousand of lights from the skyscrapers lighting up the invisibly starry sky. Their group walked excitedly, Corbyn taking the lead with his birthday-excitement. Daniel found a spot next to him, Corbyn’s bubbly personality easily working on brightening his spirits.

“We’ll get some strong alcohol in your system and music in your ears you’ll forget about everything.” Corbyn whispered to Daniel, draping his arm over his best friend’s shoulders.

Florence heard it from her spot behind them and she frowned, her gaze falling to the sidewalk. Emilio was right there with a comforting squeeze to her hand and a gentle kiss to her cheek.

The club was a hole-in-the-wall joint, past an old, crumbling Toronto brick exterior lead into a revamped and modern interior. The neon sign above the door flashed brightly. Florence stood admits her friends in the line-up, sandwiched against the wall between Emilio and Aidan. They talked excitedly amongst themselves for the duration of the wait, the cool nighttime air starting to send chills over the group. The front of the line came a long 45 minutes later, each member of their party flashing their IDs to the bouncer on their way in and tossing a two dollar coin into the collection box at the entry. Once headed up the stairs, Zach gave a little hoot and took off ahead.

The place was bright and busy, neon lights flashing and the dance floor bustling full of people under bright white strobe lights. The granite top bar lined an entire wall, the black stools mostly filled with patrons awaiting another round. Various couches, chairs, and small dining tables encircled the large dance floor, the dark furniture blending into the background. The raised DJ booth was set up opposite the bar and huge speakers framed it, the man working the table looking small in comparison.

“We got a room upstairs.” Corbyn yelled over the music, gesturing for his friends to follow him. Next to the DJ booth, a curtain was hung over a thin doorway and upon further inspection, it opened to reveal a staircase that was only lit from tiny LED lights along the treads. At the top, the security guard looked at Corbyn’s ID and then down to his clipboard before leading them to a section of the loft. Each room was divided by black walls and had frosted glass doors to enter through. On the inside, the group found a two white leather sectional sofas, a small buffet, a spacious coffee table, and a single black bean bag chair.

“Oh sweet!” Zach cheered, plopping himself down on the bean bag, draping his hands behind his head.

“This is sick.” Aidan smiled, grabbing a few crackers from the buffet table.

“I have some connections.” Corbyn shrugged, sitting down on the couch. The music from the main area of the club pumped through the walls, the sound muffled enough that they could have a conversation but loud enough that it drew them back downstairs.

Shots were poured down the bar and the group clinked glasses to celebrate Corbyn’s birthday before they tossed one back each. After that, the group broke off to do their own thing, most of them finding their way to mingle in the main area of the club.

Daniel stayed at the bar at the stool in the far corner, sipping his drink slowly, his eyes taking in the surroundings of the unfamiliar place.

Florence and Emilio were on the dance floor. He was trying to get her to dance but she insisted she had to drink more before she did any sort of dancing. As if on cue, a server pushed two more shots into their hands before being swallowed back into the crowd.

Zach, his excitement high now diminishing, stood at the side of the room and watched the people around him, trying to figure out what to do next. He finally joined Daniel, the two looking like the most pathetic duo in the building.

“Why aren’t you out there with everyone?” Zach asked, nodding towards Corbyn and Aidan and Jack who were dancing stupidly near the speakers, freshly opened drinks in hand.

“I’m not feeling it tonight.” Daniel shrugged.

“Are you ever feeling it? This is not really our go-to scene.” Zach said.

“Fair point.” Daniel chuckled, looking down at the bar top. He took a sip of his fruity cocktail.

“Nice manly drink there, bro.” Zach snorted. Daniel stuck his tongue out at him.

“Don’t know why Corbyn wanted to come here even.” Zach continued. “We all know he’d rather be at home spewing off space facts to his bedroom ceiling.”

Daniel laughed at that, hiding his face in his hands as if it was wrong of him to have fun.

“What? No one else is gonna listen.” Zach shrugged playfully.

Daniel forced his smile back to a straight line and scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the wall.

“Hey, stop that. Stop whining like a little bitch.” Zach said to his best friend. “Drink more of your girly drink and get out there.”

“You’re one to talk.” Daniel scoffed.

“Then tell me what I should order and lets get a move on.” Zach clapped his hands.

The first hour went by in a blur, drink after drink being downed by the group. As fancy as the loft room was, no one used it; everyone seemed to find their place in the main hub of the building. Jonah had found a girl at the bar who was there with her friends and he put on his usual charmer persona to win her over and they retired to a table in the back to talk and drink. Zach and Jack had found each other and were joking around messily by the huge speakers, barely hearing a word the other was saying but laughing nonetheless. Corbyn’s girlfriend had shown up and they had disappeared into the crowd. Daniel was still at his spot at the bar where Zach had left him after not being able to get him up. Multiple drinks had been had and Daniel was starting to feel wobbly on the bar stool. Now joined by Aidan, the boys spoke in whispers. Florence and Emilio were still on the dance floor, after having a few drink breaks. Emilio never left her side, fearing the worst under the prying stare of other male club-goers. The tight red dress turned to be more of a curse than a blessing as not only did it attract too much attention but Florence found herself having to pull it farther down her legs more often than not. A few drinks in, the slight lightweight of a girl forgot about it which made the dress adjusting more of Emilio’s responsibility. It was getting increasingly difficult as she was stumbling around and clinging onto his neck like a koala and sooner than later both simply let it go.

The later the night got, the closer the two got. Florence couldn’t keep her hands off of the boy in front of her, staining his jaw and neck in red lipstick prints, fingernails digging into his leather jacket to keep him close. She could feel his hands on her hips, holding her against his warm body, each movement sending tingles down her intoxicated limbs. The space between them was almost non-existent, Emilio’s hot breath on her neck making her turn to kiss him. He groaned lowly into her mouth, tugging her in by the limited material at her waist.

Daniel and Aidan could see the smudges of her red dress through the crowd from where they sat at the bar.

“Still think I’m an idiot?” Daniel hiccupped, ruffling a hand through his hair, messing it up.

“Yeah.” Aidan sighed, slapping a hand to his best friend’s shoulder. “But you’re clearly hurt so...I can’t blame you.”

“And I absolutely destroyed her in the process to mask my tiny bit of jealousy.” Daniel frowned, slumping into his arms onto the bar top.

“The DiCaprio twins are a force to be reckoned with, Dan.” Aidan mumbled, taking a long sip of his beer, his old memories of dating Callum back in 12th grade flashing through his mind. “They bring with them nothing but bad luck and fucking heartbreak.”

Daniel hummed in response, watching as Emilio left for the bathroom, leaving Florence to her own devices in the club. Prying eyes from around the room fell to the single girl in the short dress. Daniel looked back to Aidan as he continued,

“They lure you in with their good looks and shy-kid-next-door charm and then destroy every piece of your already fragile heart and leave it to rot after you give them everything you had.” Aidan said through his teeth.

Daniel sat back up straight in his chair and took a deep breath. He rubbed his eye with his fist.

“Either you go chase them down and convince yourself that their broken, money disguised childhood is a solid excuse for their lack of emotional availability or, you do what I did, and watch them leave and try to let it all go to only be met with constant regret and a hole in your chest for the rest of your life.”

Daniel simply blinked at his distraught friend. Aidan sighed, taking a long sip from his can again. The two boys fell into silence.

“Fuck this.” Daniel breathed, downing the last sip of his drink before getting up from the bar. The room spun as soon as he stood up but he forced himself to walk away from Aidan’s depressive spiral.

Florence kept herself swaying to the music during Emilio’s short absence; whether it was from her drunk state or the actual music, it didn’t matter.

The hands sliding around her waist made her smile, leaning back into the familiar touch. In any other state of mind, she would have noticed the difference in body type but she was drunk and full of bliss that it didn’t come to mind. His hair was just as soft to her fingers as her arms raised behind her, finally falling to his wrists as her body moved by itself to the music blasting loudly through the club. The rough denim jacket was no where close to the feeling of Emilio’s high end leather but she was focused on bringing his hands to her hips, pushing back into his body. Florence let the messy beat of the music move her ungracefully, the alcohol in her system pushing his hand to her inner thigh under the material of her short skirt, leaning her head back to his shoulder, her eyes closed. Her hand raised to the side of his face, fingers tangling themselves gently in his soft hair before pulling him in for a messy kiss. The angle was terrible as her back was to his front but the two drunk teenagers kissed like their life depended on it. Her tongue forced its way into his mouth, tasting the bitter taste of alcohol on his breath. It wasn’t until Florence turned around, pulled him into her by the collar of his jacket, and brought his bottom lip between her two that she sensed the difference.

Her eyes opened slowly and she pulled back to be met with Daniel’s stunned gaze, his cheeks pink from the alcohol and his blue eyes filled with desire. For some reason, whether it was the emotion of him even wanting to go near her for the first time in a while, or the serious amount of alcohol in her veins, she grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hungrily again. Her arms fell around his shoulders, holding him against her. Daniel’s mind could hardly keep up with what was happening, the loud music fuzzy to his ears and the movements of the girl in front of him fast and clumsy. The moment was broken by some stranger stumbling into them, pouring their entire drink over the two. Florence shrieked at the cold liquid hitting her warm skin before bursting into giggles. Daniel gave the guy a shove away before looking down at the mess over the two of them.

Florence grabbed the open edge of Daniel’s denim jacket and pulled him through the crowd. The room spun behind them as the two drunk teenagers stumbled through the crowd to the stairs. Stairs posed a new challenge but they made it to the top unharmed, pushing past the security guard, and into the private room. Daniel was pushed backwards onto one of the couches and Florence fell on top of him, her mouth meeting his again. She sat over his lap, one leg on either side, making her short dress ride up dangerously high.

Sober Daniel was a shy boy, soft spoken and a polite sweetheart. Drunk Daniel, although completely inexperienced of anything they were doing, let his hands rest under the fabric of her dress, pushing it up more. It was clear that her underwear was on show to whoever might have walked in, but neither cared. Florence switched to peppering sloppy drunk kisses down to his neck before sucking a red mark into his milky skin. Daniel’s shaky groan filling the empty room, fingers pressing into the flesh of her lower hips. Florence slid off his lap to sit beside him, one arm around his shoulders and her other hand holding his face close to hers, meeting their lips again. His hands fell to her thighs innocently.

The sound of the door handle turning made the two separate quickly, dropping their hands from each other. The simple action turned their questionable position into simply friendly.

Emilio smiled at them from the doorway, “Are you guys making up finally?”

Florence discreetly wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, smudging her worn lipstick more than it already was. She let out a small giggle.

Daniel’s mind spun dangerously fast, like the room was on an axis. His drunk mind tried to piece together what Emilio’s simple sentence meant, pressing a hand to his temple. He felt his stomach turn and he bent over the side of the couch and vomited onto the carpet.

“Fucking hell.” Emilio sighed, holding himself up against the doorframe. He turned to find someone who could help somehow.

Daniel sat back and wiped his mouth with his hand, the remanence of Florence’s red lipstick transferring to his palm.

“I’m bleeding!” Daniel gasped.

“Shh.” Florence giggled, pointing to her lips. Daniel blinked at her before he burped lightly and bent over to throw up again onto the floor.

“Fuck, Daniel!” Corbyn came bursting into the room, setting his drink on the buffet table before grabbing his best friend by the arm, pulling him to his feet. The boy stumbled, falling weakly against Corbyn, dragging his arm over his mouth again. The boy looked like an absolute mess with the beer stain down the front of his jacket and his hair sticking up in all sorts of random directions.

Zach and Jack came into the room as Corbyn was pulling Daniel out and towards the bathroom. His heaving could be heard down the hall.

“He can never handle his alcohol.” Jack tisked.

“What a loser.” Zach set his hands dramatically on his waist and the two burst into laughter.

Aidan appeared in the doorway too, “We have to go. They’re kicking us out thanks to Daniel.”

“He ruins everything.” Florence slurred, falling backwards onto the couch, her dress still up around her bellybutton.

“Woah!” Zach, Jack, and Aidan smacked their hands over their eyes and turned away.

Emilio, who was sober enough to be aware of their surroundings, walked over to tug her dress back into place and then scooped her up.

The group reassembled on the sidewalk outside the club, all minus Jonah who had gone off with the girl he had met earlier. Daniel was leaning helplessly against Corbyn’s shoulder, barely able to even keep himself upright. It was nearing 1am when their two taxis pulled up to the curb. Florence, Emilio, Zach, and Jack got into one, leaving Aidan and Corbyn to watch Daniel in the other.

Arriving back at the house, Florence and Zach were asleep on Jack’s shoulders, their arms wrapped around his middle. Emilio paid the driver and helped Jack get the two half asleep drunks into the house. Zach laughed to himself the entire way up to the loft, Jack grumbling the entire way behind him. Corbyn and Aidan got Daniel to bed after the boy had thrown up again on the front lawn. Aidan set a glass of water on his nightstand for him when he woke up.

Florence and Emilio were directed to Jonah’s room for the night since he was gone. Florence spread herself out on the queen size bed, mumbling something about Jonah which sounded more like ‘Jehovah’ and sleeping on a cloud. Emilio got her out of her dress and into a t-shirt and pyjama pants that Corbyn lent them before getting her to finally stay on one side of the bed. Emilio passed out fast, gentle snores filling the now quiet house.

Florence, still extremely buzzed, slid out of bed and started down the hallway, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet and her hand gliding over the wall to keep her balanced. She hummed to herself as she opened the door to Daniel’s room and closed it again behind her.

His form was curled up under the sheets at the far side of the bed from the door. Florence climbed up next to him, resting her hands on his arm, making the half asleep boy flinch tiredly. He smelt of old beer and mint toothpaste, wearing only his underwear and the black t-shirt he had on under his jacket.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, his drunk mind trying to focus on the figure beside him just as she leaned down to kiss him.

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey fic #daniel seavey imagines #wdw #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #emilio martinez #jonah marais #jack avery #corbyn besson #zach herron #why dont we imagines #college wdw #martinez twins #idbitc #writing #anything but mine

30 notes · View notes

writinginthesparetime · 5 years

Text

A place far away pt.3

pairing: actor!Park Haejin x student!reader

Warnings: famous!au ; college!au ; litte bit of swearing?

genre: fluff

chapters: 1 - 2 - 4

(If needed I will add more warnings and upload the genre tags in next chapters)

Summary:

So that’s how all started.

It was a rainy day in Seoul and I was the new girl in town. Precisely the new girl in college, just moved from europe to study abroad.

Little did I knew Seoul was not the only korean thing I’d fell in love with.

A/n: this chapter ended up being dramatically long so I had to change my mind and make some adjustments. I am so excited about this story, i hope you’re too!

__________________________________________

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“It’s nothing, you needed someone to help you fill some papers!”

“I know but .... like i don’t properly know korean.”

“That’s why I offered to help you.”

Nana poured me some tea while we were watching, outside the window, the rain falling over the city.

“You have been definitely too kind, I’ll offer you lunch tomorrow.”

So we then headed to our rooms, it was already evening and actually the last day before classes too. The other girls were already sleeping, but we were still so upset.

Nana stopped on the threshold of her door, it was obvious we weren’t sleepy at all. “Y/n ... Are you sure you don’t want to see a movie with me?”

“No thank you, I’ll try to sleep now.”

So I rolled over in bed, again.

It was almost midnight, Nana was surely already sleeping but Seoul was still awake, as much as me. I could hear cars and people talking down street.

I was so nervous I kept changing my mood from pure anxiety to happiness. Eyes wide open looking at the ceiling while street lamps lights leaked out from curtains.

“Enough.”

I got up and changed into the clothes already prepared for the day after, i picked the keys and went outside.

As I thought streets were still full of people, young and old, the majority tipsy, which entered or exited bars.

Still angry about my lack of sleep I decide to call mom.

“Hi? Y/n?”

“Yes? Mom?”

“Y/n! How are you? Wait, isn’t it a little late?” She already knew.

“Hi I’m fine. Yeah, indeed I couldn’t sleep so i decided to call.”

“Are you outside?” She sounded so inquiring.

“Yes but don’t be afraid, I’m heading back home.” I lied while crossing my fingers. I couldn’t stand a scolding now.

“Okok ... so are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Im very excited, but please tell me about how my brother is doing.”

So I Switched the subject of our conversation, confident my mother could speak about my perfect and cute little brother for hours, especially on how he’s so smart and one day maybe became a math genius.

Her voice became a background sound of my promenade. Hearing her speaking, finally a familiar voice, was suiting to me.

I entered a 24/7 store and headed to the sweet ward, even if it wasn’t the healthiest decision, especially if I wanted to sleep and not get a sugar rush.

“Will you call us tomorrow too?”

“If i have some spare time after classes, sure mom, why?”

“I’m sure your brother would love to hear you.”

“I’ll try.”

I picked a candy snack and some chocolate and put them inside a red basket.

“So ... see you tomorrow?”

“Yes mom, tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too, y/n. Take care, goodnight honey.”

I hanged up.

After choosing a packet of biscuits I headed to another snack ward. Despite the late hour, the shop had many customers, especially teenagers.

I was looking at chips, undecided about the flavour would suits the most the stressed-evening occasion.

“If you prefer spicy, this one is the best.” A chips packet materialised in my hands. “Indeed, it’s my favourite flavour.”

I turned around and almost clash into someone chest, I looked up and it was him. Standing tall in his brown leather jacket and still wearing an antismog mask.

Recognising him by his brown eyes, because once again it was the only thing i could clearly see.

“Mmh , thank you?” I bowed at him and thrown the chips inside the red basket.

“Well, purchasing so many sweets at this hour isn’t healthy at all.” He laughed while looking inside my basket that I quickly hided behind my figure.

“I couldn’t sleep, so it seemed a good idea to me.” I whispered excusing myself.

“And it was a good idea because we had the chance to meet again.”

Was he flirting? Flirting with me?

“We always meet under the weirdest circumstances, or at least every time something embarrassing happens to me.”

“I don’t think so, you know?” And Again his eyes smiled. “Are you alone?” Concerned, he looked around, maybe trying to find someone actually looking for me. “It’s dangerous.”

“Sounds like the beginning of an horror movie to me.”

I was certain this could actually be part of a script, and he sounded like a potential cinematography serial killer. “Don’t be afraid, i know how to defend myself.”

We both smiled at each other while I started asking myself when did i became so talkative. And when did i have Any courage to talk to a stranger like this? Like not only to ask directions.

“So ...” he was looking at the shelf “why can’t you sleep, if i may ask?”

“Top secret.” And that being said I kindly smiled at him and surpassed him, going to the cash desk. He followed me and paid right after me. Both holdings our own plastic bag we headed out the shop.

The city was finally calm and even the wind became delightfully fresh.

“Can i offer you something?” I looked at him shocked.

“Honestly i was thinking about going home.” I stuttered.

“Are you finally sleepy?” He asked smiling. Was he really going to tease me like this? Of course he knew i wasn’t sleepy.

“Actually not.” I looked down at my hands shyly. I could definitely imagine his satisfied grin on his face.

“Only one beer” he sit on the walkside outside the shop and took two cans from his plastic bag.

“Only one.”

What the fuck was I doing? Uh y/n? Did I suddenly became a kid? Did I completely forgot how to behave? Drinking with a stranger?

What was Seoul doing to me?

But one beer couldn’t hurt me, plus I was already into this.

I sit next to him, he quickly opened both of the cans and gave me one. I grabbed it with both my hands, still not able to look at him. Too shy now.

I only saw his hands, beautiful hands by the way, take his beer and touch slightly mine. Our fingers touched and I suddenly felt my stomach upside down.

I was already so nervous, this wasn’t needed.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I whispered and drank down the whole cold beer with closed eyes.

“Ehi, oh, slow down.” I could hear his surprised tone.

“That’s it, one beer.” My fingers kept playing with the tab’s can.

I should get home.

I wanted to get up but his hand gently leaned to my wrist, trying to stop me.

“You know, when people say to drink something together, that’s not what they’re talking about.” I looked up while he was fixing his mask. Unbelievable: did i just missed the opportunity to see his face?

So i suddenly knew what was my goal for the night.

“I’m sorry, I’ve been nervous all day.”

“You’ve already said that.” He leaned his face on his hands and looked at me closely.

I really couldn’t understand how he could be so noisy yet definitely kind.

“Is there a reason?”

Now?

You.

“College, classes start tomorrow.”

“Oh wow that’s amazing! What are you studying?” Again I felt in the middle of the attention and my cheeks turned red. Shy me.

“Fashion, makeup to be specific.”

“Interesting, there are a lot of jobs opportunities, do you have any ideas yet?”

He asked and sipped the beer again. I was so focused on finding the right words I completely forgot my goal.

“Not yet, I believe here in korea there will be many.”

“I can guarantee that.” He gently laughed and i heard him looking for something inside the plastic bag. He gave me another can.

“So, you can tell I’m so nervous I need another one?” I whispered hiding my face behind my hands.

“Alcohol is never a good solution, but maybe for this time we can make an exception. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I closed my eyes and sipped the beer. “You know, I don’t fancy beer so much.”

“You could have told me before.” We both smiled.

“True.”

He looked at me closely.

“Your cheeks are red.”

“That must be true too.”

I finally looked at him in the eyes. I could definitely feel the heat of alcohol inside me giving me some courage. He took out the mask with an hand and raised his face to sip some more beer.

“Ah, refreshing.” He then picked up all the empty cans to throw them away and i was frozen.

I was so thankful he didn’t noticed my facial expression because I definitely looked dumb. Mouth wide open and dreamy eyes. Shocked.

He was unbelievable HANDSOME. definitely in his thirties, the clearest skin ever, plump lips and a breathtaking smile.

“Do you feel good?”

“Uh wha- yes?” Blinking to make sure he wasn’t a dream.

“Do you want me to take you home? Your cheeks are so red and-“

“No. No. I’m fine.” I cut him while jumping up, but I ended up almost falling.

“Ehi.” He grabbed me by an elbow to help me stabilise me. “You drank too much.”

“Not at all.” Or maybe yes?

My life leaked of any social interactions and this actually leaded me being a nerd always at home while everyone was partying. So I actually never drank too much, but two beer couldn’t be my limit to sobriety.

Being clumsy in first place wasn’t helping at all.

And being with the most handsome man ever didn’t too.

“I tripped over, that’s it.”

“I take you home.” This time his voice was purely concerned, no contradictions allowed. He grabbed our bags and hold me. “Tell me the address please.”

So I did and we started walking.

“If I only knew you couldn’t drink so much i would have offered you some juice.�� He smiled and i hit him on the shoulder.

“I’m telling you I just tripped! I’m very clumsy.”

Luckily the dorm wasn’t far and we quickly arrived.

“Here i am.” I stopped on the sidewalk in the opposite side of the road. I couldn’t start being naive.

“Ok. I need to apologise.”

“For what? The beer?”

“No, for being so nosy, I swear I’m never like this.” He looked at me while scratching his nape and then just bowed.

“Don’t worry, thank you for taking me home, and the pleasant conversation, mr ...”

Mr? Why so formal all of the sudden?

“Please call me Hae-jin.”

“I’m y/n.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you.” He smiled and my legs started shaking. “I think you should go inside, you’re freezing.”

“You’re right.” I grabbed my bag but I stayed still.

“Then I’ll go, goodnight y/n.” He bowed.

“Goodnight hae-jin.”

#park har jin x reader #park haejin #park #college!au #student!reader #k actor #korean actor #kdrama #actor #korea #my oppa #writing #spare time #story #fan fiction #park hae jin

26 notes · View notes

mowulf · 4 years

Text

How to Train your Downer: CH4

<–|Start|—>

I am so, so sorry that I forgot last weeks and almost forgot this weeks chapter uploads. Hhhhhhhhh! Here we go!

“I think we should try letting him out.”

Green choked on his tea in surprise and very nearly spilled his mug all over the table. A couple papers had tea spilled and he was quick to slam some napkins on them to prevent any damage. Once he was satisfied that his notes were saved, he rounded on Davies with a snarl. “What on earth is going through that thick skull of yours?”

Davies shrugged nonchalantly and sighed. “Being cooped up like this isn’t good for him. Yes, he’s friendlier now, but he’s also getting antsy.” He paused, swirled his cup, then continued, “If we let him out freely he’ll be more inclined to come back.”

“Do you know what for sure?”

“No, but…”

“But nothing! What if he doesn’t come back?” Green stood up abruptly and slammed his hands on the table. “If he gets loose, if we can’t get a hold of him again, then it’s out necks on the line! Verloc may take us in his place if we lose him!”

“I know! I know. But think of it like this,” Davies set his mug down and moved to stand over Green. “Why wouldn’t he come back? He’s got food and water here. He doesn’t have to worry about joy-tainted water. He’s never gone hungry. Hell, sometimes he asks for food just to see if we’ll actually get it for him. He’s got a whole room of his own with a large bed and clean clothes. Why wouldn’t he come back?”

“Because he doesn’t like us.”

“He doesn’t like you, maybe. He seems to enjoy my company just fine. Maybe if you were nicer to him and stopped beating him every time he pissed you off-”

“I keep telling you, he’ll learn faster if you beat sense into him-”

“And I keep telling you that it doesn’t work that way! Animals do NOT respond to punishment like people do. If you want to get him to listen, then you have to work with him. And that means rewarding good behavior. Listen…” Davies pressed his hand into Green’s shoulders. They were tense to the point of shaking and he sighed. Green could be so stubborn at times.

With a sigh, Davies leaned down to press a kiss into the back of Green’s neck, trailing his hands down the doctor’s arms to finally thread his fingers with Green’s longer ones. Another kiss and he said softly, “I’ll take full responsibility. Besides, he’s still hurt. He was in awful shape when we got him. I don’t think he’ll ever fully recover. He moves slow. Running away just isn’t an option for him at this point.”

Green groaned in frustration but ran a thumb along Davies’ fingers. “...Fine. I still think this is a bad idea, but fine.”

Davies planted a firm kiss into Green’s cheek with a broad smile. “Everything’ll be fine! You’ll see.”

---🔫(ᐕ)

The collar was heavy around his neck. Arthur ran his fingers over the carefully detailed leather for what felt like the thousandth time, but the thick leather was locked in place. There was absolutely no hope of taking it off. Despite the satin lining, it still chafed, though that would clear up once he’d built up a bit of callus wherever the leather rubbed. Within a week he was certain he wouldn’t even notice the collar anymore.

Except Arthur didn’t want that. He didn’t even want the stupid collar to stay in place. No, the collar had to go as soon as possible.

He absently fondled the metal tag. It was stamped with his name and blood type. An identifier in the event that his corpse was beaten beyond all hope of recognition. A morbid thought, but not unrealistic.

To be fair, the collar as a whole was meant to be an identifier. It was meant to stand out. Bad enough that it was designed to draw attention to him, but now he had no way of disappearing into the background. Which was almost certainly why the bedroom door had been left open and the house was entirely too quiet. Arthur had been happy to sit in bed and wait, but now he was starting to get antsy and bored. Davies really wasn’t coming back, was he? And from the silence, it seemed Green had left as well.

He was well and truly alone.

Arthur ran a hand along the stamped tag once more time before he finally slid his legs over the side of the bed. If they were gone for the day and he wasn’t locked in, then perhaps he could explore the house a bit. With a groan, Arthur slid out from under the blankets and stood up. First things first, those blasted stairs...

------

The house really was empty. Arthur had taken his sweet time exploring every corner of the house. Navigating the stairs had been tricky until he’d finally given up and slid down one step at a time. Now he hovered nervously by the door, torn between staying inside where it was (vaguely) safe versus going outside and finally being free after nearly a year of captivity. He could leave if he wanted. It would be so easy to just walk right out.

But then what?

His hip had healed wrong and now he could barely walk, let alone run. Maybe, given enough time and physical therapy, he could get back to scampering around, but he didn’t have high hopes. Throw in the bright red collar and there was absolutely no way he was going unnoticed. Sure, he’d be outside. But at what cost? He was a half skip away from a disaster just waiting to happen.

Fuck it.

Before he could lose his nerve, Arthur threw the door open and stumbled outside. The sun was bright! And real! Not that faded, soft light from the room that never saw the light of day. Okay, so it was a little overcast, but the sun was real and (mostly) shining on his face. His face split into a wide, genuine smile.

He took a deep breath of fresh air and took a careful step forward. Of course he forgot about the step up and ended up falling to his hands and knees, but he quickly picked himself up like he didn’t just eat shit and took a look around. Seemed no one had noticed his tumble. Good, good.

Okay. First things first: new mask. A task easier said than done, mainly because he couldn’t remember how on Earth he was supposed to secure a new one. He vaguely remembered a shop where one could get custom masks made for their face. Much better than a generic mask. But where was the shop even located?

Arthur started off in a random direction with the hope that he would find some kind of landmark that he could use to direct himself. It didn’t even matter that he didn’t know where the store actually was. So long as he could get to the general vicinity, he’d be fine.

“Hey! You!”

Arthur turned in search of the voice and found an angry young man stomping over. He tensed and widened his smile nervously. “Top of the morning! Can I help you?” he asked cheerfully. Was everyone staring at him or was that just his paranoia? And when had so many people gathered? Why did he have to get himself wrapped up in his head all the time? Stupid. Stupid!

The man marched up and jabbed a finger into Arthur’s chest and snapped, “What happened to your mask?”

“I-” Oh god he hadn’t thought of an excuse. Fuck. Shit. Okay, calm down. He was a master of improvisation. “I stepped on it.” Okay. Wow. Maybe not.

The man bought it, hook, line, and sinker. With a laugh, the man said, “You ought to be more careful. Though I suppose it can happen to anyone. I once set my mask on a chair and then completely forgot and sat on it! Though,” he leaned forward and gave Arthur a thorough once over, “maybe next time you should wear your mask, even if it’s broken. You should get yourself a new mask. Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a downer, now!”

“Oh, absolutely! I was actually just looking for a shop, but I can’t seem to remember where it was…” Arthur trailed off thoughtfully and tapped his chin. What was the shopkeeper’s name again?

“I’ve got just the thing!” The man grabbed his left arm and Arthur had to bite back a pained yelp as he nearly lost balance and had to catch himself on his bad leg. He managed to disguise it as a cough and limped along as best he could. Thankfully, the man got the hint quickly and slowed down without being asked. Arthur made small talk and threw out cheerful greetings every time someone so much as looked at him.

Most of the citizens gave him curious or suspicious looks, which wasn’t all that surprising. Without his mask and with the red collar, he stood out like a sore thumb so he made sure to be particularly cheerful. Despite the suspicion, it worked. Each greeting combined with his smiling guide seemed to ease the tension and everyone was quick to return the greeting and go about their business. Periodically someone would stop them and demand an explanation or some idle chit-chat, but Arthur just continued right on smiling.

Being out and about, there really wasn’t much that could bring his mood down!

Until a bobby approached and cheerfully asked, “Well, well, what’s going on here?”

“Seems he broke his mask,” the man, Henry, said. Arthur offered a shrug and nodded, but regarded the bobby with caution. The bobby did the same, giving Arthur a hard look before straightening up.

“Then I suppose you won’t mind if I take you to get a new one?”

“Oh, would you?” Arthur exclaimed. “That would be wonderful! Henry here was just taking me, but I feel so bad dragging him around. I hate to be a burden, but I just can’t seem to remember where the store is. You know how it is.” He shared a laugh with the officer. A few more pleasantries were exchanged until Henry was certain that he wasn’t needed and left.

“Off we go, then!”

“Ah! Wait!” The bobby turned back with a raised brow and an ‘a-ha!’ expression. “I’m terribly sorry but could we go slow?” Arthur asked. The bobby frowned in surprise and Arthur explained, “I hurt my leg pretty badly, so I can’t really manage a cheerful stroll, even. Nasty business, really, but walking is really difficult right now.” He tilted his head down a bit and looked up, an old tactic that he’d learned as a child that authority figures always seemed to enjoy.

The bobby simply smiled and started walking. Even with his slowed pace, his long strides had him well ahead of Arthur on no time. Once he noticed, he turned around to see Arthur hobbling along as best he could. He had his hand pressed into his hip to try and relieve some of the pain and each step was clearly painful, judging by the grimace that crossed his face with each step.

And yet he kept right on smiling and waving as if he wasn’t about to collapse in the middle of the street.

Arthur finally caught up with a cheerful, “Thank you!” and they resumed their trek. This time, the officer made sure to match his pace. Arthur, however, carefully stayed half a pace behind; another trait he’d learned at a young age. Adults always preferred to stay ahead. Made them seem like they were in control of whatever situation, even when they weren’t.

After a moment, they were joined by two other constables. One regarded Arthur with suspicion while the other seemed more genuinely interested, even sidling over to stand next to Arthur and strike up a casual conversation to try and get to know him better. Arthur played along and chattered on about his interests as vaguely as possible while still giving enough to keep the conversation flowing until they finally fell into a comfortable silence. With the three officers walking with him, Arthur noticed he received much less attention from wandering bystanders. Most of the attention he received now seemed largely focused on the leather collar.

“I have a conundrum,” Arthur said suddenly. The officers glanced at him to acknowledge that they were listening. “About a year ago, I found a… cat.”

“A cat?” Two officers shared a look before turning their attention back to Arthur. The third, closest to Arthur, however, looked genuinely interested and gave him a gentle nudge to keep talking.

Arthur glanced at each of them before he looked down at the road. “I found a cat. It was really hurt so I took it in, but it doesn’t trust people. It kept fighting me every time I got too close so I may have lost my temper a bit and…” He didn’t need to say anything. The unspoken words came across loud and clear. “I made a mistake and I took steps to make sure it would never happen again. No one will hurt the cat while it’s under my care. So long as it stays inside, it will be well cared for and fed and spoiled.”

“But?” the one officer prompted.

“But it got out. I don’t know what to do. If it’s outside, it’ll get hurt again, or worse. I’m worried about it and I’ve been trying to get it back but it seems… confused? Torn. Like it wants to come back but it isn’t sure. And I just don’t know what to do. Would it be better off outside or would it be better inside? With me?” He looked up. “What do you think?”

Silence. The constable mulled the story over in his head as he walked. Finally, he said, “I think the cat should give you another chance. You’ve taken steps to make sure it doesn’t get hurt in your care again. You made mistakes but you’re better now, right?” Arthur nodded. “And besides, if you try to hurt the cat again, it can escape and find somewhere else to live. Who knows, maybe I’ll take it in.” He laughed as Arthur gave him a startled look before quickly regaining composure.

“Here we are,” the officer said as he held the door open. Arthur stepped inside and looked around. Masks were everywhere. In display cases, hanging from the ceiling, and mounted on the walls. The white masks stood out against the vile pink of the walls and Arthur found himself reflexively gagging. Once again, he hid the reaction behind a cough and made his way to the counter while a bobby dressed in red hurried over the three in the doorway.

“What is he doing here?” the officer in red hissed as Arthur meandered over to the counter. “I thought he was supposed to be with Green and Davies!”

“Well, he hasn’t tried to make a break for it yet,” one started, only to be interrupted by,

“There won’t be a problem. He’ll probably head back to Davies once he has a new mask. Or maybe he’ll enjoy the sun for a bit and then head back tonight.”

“And how can you be so sure, Marcum?”

Marcum gave an 'are you serious right now' look and said, “He just told us.”

“He told us he found a cat and- oh. Oh that makes a lot more sense.”

Arthur ignored the hushed whispers behind him as he knocked on the counter to catch the shopkeeper's attention. The woman took one look at him and brightened up. “You must be here for a new mask! Oh wonderful!” Before he could reply, she rushed out from behind the counter and grabbed his arm. “Sit down! Sit down! Get comfortable and let’s see what we can do.”

Arthur dropped into a chair and smiled uncertainly up at her. She proceeded to chatter away at him while she took measurements, ran her fingers over every inch of his face (though she did apologize when she pressed into his bruise, causing him to flinch back sharply), and finally told him to “Wait right there” as she rushed into the back. She returned moments later with a pristine mask and freshly gloved hands.

“This is still warm,” she warned him. “I’ll need you to close your eyes and hold still.” Once his eyes were closed, she placed the mask on his face and began smoothing it out. Just as she’d said, it was still quite warm. Almost uncomfortable, but not quite. He maintained a bland smile as she worked the mask to fit his features until, finally, she stood back. “There we go! You’re good to go!”

He opened his eyes and grinned back at her. “Thank you so much. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to work with me so suddenly.” She stepped back to let him stand up and waved him off.

“Nonsense! Not many people need emergency masks anymore. Mostly everyone just comes by when their old masks wear out or they don’t want something so generic anymore. And don’t worry about payment,” she said as he reached for his pocket. “I’ve been looking for a face like yours for ages to try out my new line! Just tell people you were at ‘Holly’s Boutique’ and we’ll call it even.”

Arthur sighed in relief because he’d realized only seconds after she’d finished that he hadn’t actually brought any money with him. Alright, task one complete. Now he wouldn’t be under the intense scrutiny of everyone. Now he could actually go about wherever he wanted!

Except home. He couldn’t risk blowing his cover, and the officers and doctors were clearly interested in him. Speaking of which… Arthur turned to the entrance to find that the red bobby had returned to his station while only one of the original trio waited casually by the door. Arthur blinked and narrowed his eyes. Was he being watched?

Yes. Yes he was. Arthur worried his lip as he slowly stood up. He didn’t particularly like the way he was being watched. It was sly and almost hungry. Like there was a request just waiting to be made but couldn’t due to being in public.

Two could play at that game.

“Officer!” If he ignored the way his hip screamed with every step, he could power stride over to the door and-

Oof. No. Nevermind. Hobbling it is.

The officer chuckled at him and Arthur stuck his tongue out playfully as he got close. “What are you still doing here?” he asked as they stepped outside.

“I thought I’d hang around. You know, just in case.”

Arthur snorted. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know.” Marcum let Arthur lead the way and followed along, careful to match Arthur’s pace without letting him fall even a half step behind. “I just think you’re… interesting? Is that the right word? Different. Point is, I enjoy your company. And,” he swung around in front of Arthur, “I’d really like to know you better.” He tucked a card into Arthur’s front jacket pocket and gave it a quick pat. “Think about it,” he said before he trotted off.

Arthur stared in vague confusion before he finally pulled the card out to take a good look at it. It was an invitation which he quickly tucked away as soon as he realized what it was to. (He could feel his whole face flush as he thought about the implications of what the officer had just said.)

Well, he had a mask now. The officer was, unfortunately, off doing something else. Unfortunate because he struck Arthur as being different in an equally interesting way. There was still some time before curfew. Might as well enjoy what little sun was left. With a final glance around, Arthur tucked his hands in his pockets and began to wander the streets.

---

“Hello there!” Arthur was pulled out of his thoughts at the chipper voice and a wide instinctively slid into place. The woman was tall, about his height if he had to make a guess. And she was kind of cute. The energy in her eyes and genuine smile caught his attention first and reminded him of Sally when she was younger.

“Um, hello?” Arthur cocked his head as she leaned back and looked him over. Was she judging him?

Her eyes locked on to his collar and he could swear her gaze turned predatory. “I’m Valerie,” she said abruptly and stuck her hand out.

“Arthur Hastings,” Arthur said and grabbed her hand in a firm handshake. Her smile widened at that and she gave a nod.

“Firm handshake. Very nice.” She stepped forward, invading his space, and began to circle around him. Arthur leaned away from her and curled in on himself, his smile strained and nervous. “You should stand up straight,” she said as she pressed her fingertips into the small of his back. He arched away with a nervous whine, but she had already pulled away and resumed pacing around him. “You’ve got a bit of a limp, but not too bad. You’re stronger than you look, aren’t you?” She gave his bicep a quick squeeze and pulled away before he could react. “Yes. Yes! You’re perfect!”

“For what?” Arthur snapped, exasperated and stressed from the sudden scrutiny. His answer was an envelope thrust into his face. As he took it, Valerie said, “Come by tonight. I’ll be there from 9 ‘till they close. Bring your friends if you want, but I’ll show you a much better time than any of them can.” She trailed her hand from his shoulder down his arm as she strode past and he almost missed the casual wave she threw over her shoulder.

Arthur stared after her, mouth open and brain working overtime to figure out just what in the hell happened. And then it clicked. His mouth snapped shut and the color drained out of his face. She thought he… with constable Davies?! Oooh no no no! He had to get this collar off yesterday!

He looked down at the envelope in his hand for a moment before his lips thinned and he began to limp back home. It was the same as the one Marcum had given him. Maybe… Maybe having the collar wasn’t so bad after all.

Who would have thought?

#we happy few #whf #arthur #arthur hastings #how to train your downer #joy doctor #bobby #purely self indulgent

4 notes · View notes