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avalikesf19 · 27 days

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A day at quadrant: LN4

Author note: I don’t even know how to post anything on this and never wrote a fic but I hope this is good but I think it’s pretty shit and I haven’t finished it yet and if any writers want to use this idea you can for sure just @ me please oh and if you have feedback please let me know thanks xx

Lando x quadrant fem reader

Blurb: reader is a member of quadrant, she games most of the time but also likes f1 along with her best friend Ria bish. She is friends with all members at quadrant and finds it a good laugh with all her mates, but maybe her view of someone in particular is more than a mate..

Warnings: sexualising, swearing, mention of a gun, leaked tape, sad distraught reader, friends to maybe lovers if I make it a series? Smut-ish? If I missed any let me know (I don’t know how to do warnings sorry x)

I woke up late again today. The mornings aren’t made for me. I just can’t do it. I love the feeling of sinking into my bed for 20 hours. But I can’t today, I have 4 people with cameras recording waiting for me to bloody get up and start filming a video for quadrant. But I’m not complaining because this is my job and something I like to do. I try to be in most videos and do my part, but it’s not like Lando gets that mad if I miss a few videos, but from my fucked sleep schedule, I don’t think he will like if I miss another one after I skipped the last 3.

I realise the time and see Lando, Ria, Ethan, and Max spamming my phone to get on. Fucking hell. I don’t even think to get changed, i just checked all my lash extensions were on, tied up my hair, and brushed my teeth. I probably look like shit but I did this to myself. “Better late than never I guess” max says rudely to take the piss out of me. Everyone knows my bad sleep schedule and how moody I am in the morning and after he’s done that, I’m not having it.

“Sorry guys my alarm didn’t go off but I’m here now ahaha” you say trying not to make an unhinged comment to clap back at max. “Y/n girl I missed you where have u fucking been!” Ria says. Ria is my bitch, we ride together, we die together, Ria is my best friend. “Me too Ria!” I say back politely.

“Alright enough mucking about we have to record this video mate” Ethan jokingly says and makes Ria and I laugh. “What r we even playing again” i question. “we are playing gartic phone you muppet” Lando tries to say but starts laughing at Y/n. “Why r u laughing mate” I say confused then realise wtf I’m doing. I’m wearing my pajamas, not my normal pajamas my fucking tiny, tight lace top that could pass for a bra if you squint your eyes. It hits me and I shit myself realising I have a camera filming me and recording everything.

“Omg I’m so sorry fuck I forgot let me change” I panicked in saying quickly. “Who said to change” Lando bluntly says. I was stopped in your tracks. Excuse me? Lando? As if he just said that. “Um my tits are almost exposed on camera and i look like a hoe” I say. My manager is definitely gonna get me in trouble for that. “Woah y/n you fucking hottie” Ria says when she looks at me from my camera. I get nervous in my stomach and naturally run to go grab a hoodie, luckily i live in a small apartment so it didn’t take me long. “Um sorry guys sorry let’s just move on I forgot sorry sorry” i say nervously.

“Yeah alright let’s go I’ll send you the link Y/n” Ethan kindly says which is unlike him being a dickhead most of the time as a joke to piss me off. I like Ethan though I think he’s funny and actually caring about us all and our business. “So do we write a prompt then get someone else’s to draw and keep going” max says like he didn’t ask to play it. “Yeah but make it funny about us and f1 the viewers will fucking love it” Lando says. I still can’t believe what Lando said. I join the game and wait for everyone else to join. I started to feel the panic caving in on my chest and texted Lando.

lando wtf was that?

I send quickly

what was what?

He replied back

The fucking comment like I know I’m sorry and shouldn’t have worn that before chucking something on top but why did you say that Lando

I started to let everything out on accident, but I had every right to, he was my friend and said that I should not have changed from my top that was basically lingerie.

fuck I was just joking

He replied back bluntly.

Why do I feel sad that he said that. Did he think I looked bad in it? Did he think I was looking like a hoe? Fuck why did I talk to him like that he’s my boss!

“Alright we’re starting now lock in don’t say any dumb shit” Max says right before filming the intro and starting the game. I don’t know what prompt to write. Then I get an idea to do Ethan and ginge in the sauna with Lando from a video they did a week ago. I submit it and then recieve a prompt. I bursted out laughing when reading it in my head and looking at my atrocious drawing. It’s a drawing following the prompt of Max’s bunda blocking Landos old fiat jolly, but I drew their hair orange on accident. I kept playing the game and do a few more rounds and have a laugh until we stopped recording.

The rest of the day was pretty chill as I was tired and it was a week day so i stayed at home until I feel asleep watching a movie. I wanted to get sleep like I always do but extra sleep tonight because tomorrow we were all hanging out for lunch and a chat to talk about future video ideas. Was it bad I wanted to look really good? Surely not right?

I woke up and this time remembered to change my top. I picked out a cute off the shoulder knit long sleeve top and some jeans. They made me look good with my tanned skin and made me feel just as good. I straightened my hair, brushed my teeth, and did my makeup ready to go to the cafe we were meeting up at. We always watch the video our editor puts together while we meet up at the cafe spot every week, it’s basically a routine.

Ria and I hugged each other then went to the table both fashionably late. I saw Lando, Steve, Aarav, Max, and Ethan sitting there on the big table with two spots saved. One next to Steve, and one next to Lando. After my short blunt convo with Lando I decided I wanted to sit next to Steve, but that was overruled when Ria already sat down. Well fuck isn’t this awkward. Can I order a gun?

“Hi Y/n” he says looking at me. Why is my stomach already curling into a ball. “Um hi Lando” I say quietly. I am a bit too close to home for my liking as the table was a bit small but it’s fine. We all ordered our food and I ordered some avocado toast trying to be healthy and aesthetic knowing well I end up eating some of everyone else’s food lol. Lando like the child he is ordered pancakes.

“Im sorry about what i said yesterday, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything it just came out im sorry”. Lando says politely. Did I misinterpret his message? Why is he nice now? Why is my stomach tied up into knots? WHY AM I WEAK IN THE KNEES?

“Oh it’s all good I’m sorry idk why it didn’t click to change out of that fucking slutty top like a normal person” I blurt out. “Woah why are you so hard on yourself, calm down Y/n it’s completely fine and it was a nice top anyways, it looked good on you.” he said. EXCUSE ME? “Thanks?” I said confused. Thank fuck the food came otherwise I would have fainted at the awkwardness.

The food was good, Lando didn’t talk nor did I the rest of the lunch. Then we watched the video that came out. My heart sinks. The start of the video showing our cameras in the intro has me at the start or the whole morning, in that fucking top on YouTube. “Wait-fuck what why am I in there wearing that how did the editor get that clip it’s not even from the same time frame. I panicked. I was about to cry. All the comments were already flooding in hating on me saying I was attention seeking in that top. “Please get it down, please please ” I started crying already in Rias arms. Lando looked angry. “Who the fuck put that clip of her in it” he said angrily. He calls the editor who made the video on speaker. 0.00001 seconds after the editor answer Lando is already yelling.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU PUT THAT CLIP OF Y/N YOU DIDNT EVEN ASK HER OR CARE YOU PURPOSELY DID IT! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU JUST DID! GET IT DOWN NOW”. Lando yells before hanging up knowing the editor got the message. I’m are still shaking and trying to not bawl your eyes out with just a few tears. “Lando it’s my fault you didn’t have to yell at him like that sorry” i say weakly. “NO ITS NOT YOUR FAULT BECAUSE YOU DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT WAS FILMED AND CLIPPED YET AND HE PURPOSELY DID IT, ITS LIKE HE WANTED TO HURT YOU. FUCKING DICKHEAD”. Lando yells. Out of instinct i just run and give him a long hug. My head sinks to his chest. He holds me tightly as i hold onto him for a while.

I go back to your apartment that night. I’m just sad. Especially after reading all those comments about me. I try to ignore them all but they keep flooding in like rapid fire. I automatically give in and go on my phone. But to my confusion I’m getting tagged on twitter instead.

Fucking hell. When I thought this couldn’t get worse.

There is a video going around with hundreds of thousand of retweets already. It’s a sex tape of a girl which confuses me so I click onto it. Oh my god. It’s a deep fake of my face and that lacy bra thing on a random sex tape. I can’t do this anymore. I wish I didn’t exist. Naturally i call our quadrant group chat. Everyone answers immediately leaving me to realise they have seen it too. “Guys, I am fired” I say while bawling my eyes out. “Y/N I’m coming now with Lando” Ria says while in her car on her way to my apartment. I can’t even process what Ethan and Steve are saying cause my mind is just blurry and I’m a mess.

5 minutes later a knock is on my door and it’s Ria with Lando. I just cry in her arms and start rambling on about how my life is over. “Y/n that editor is going to jail, the YouTube vid is down and all of our socials are deactivated for now, talk to us if you need now” Lando says calmly to me. I just hug him tightly. “Can you tell everyone that’s obviously not me please” I say weakly. Ria is making me mac and cheese cause she knows it’s my favourite. “Of course I will and I will get this fixed Y/n for now just let us take care of you and get better.” Lando says. His touch is making me feel better if I’m being honest. “Thanks guys for coming over tonight, can you guys stay I’ll sleep on the couch and you guys take my bed” I say calmly as I’m starting to get her my bearings and feel a little better about everything.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch.” Lando and Ria both say straight away after my words. “Lando has a race next week so he should fuck his back up on the couch again like he did that one night he got drunk at the club last month” Ria says jokingly. “Is it okay if I’m in the bed with you?” Lando says maturely (shocking I know). “Yeah it’s fine if it is fine with you” I say back. “Yes it’s completely fine.” Lando replied quickly. I go to change into my pajamas. I see that bloody top. I don’t think twice after ripping it into pieces with my hands and teeth before chucking it out. “Fuck that ahahha” I said laughing as all the lace misses the bin but I ignore it. Ria Lando and I all start watching a movie together, Ria asks me which movie and I try to think of a normal movie I want to watch but I’m not sure why ratatouille is speaking out to me but I choose ratatouille like the wise mature person I am. Lando starts laughing obnoxiously which makes Ria and I start to as well. “It’s a good fucking movie shut up” I say defending myself laughing.

We are watching ratatoullie all together while I’m snuggled up in between Ria and Lando feelin comfortable and safe. My mind starts to forget a little bit about the stupid video situation. I don’t know why but my legs somehow ended up over landos. Whoopsies. I feel happy and safe with him, he had always been a good friend to me and always fun to be around. We all get tired after the movie ends and go to bed to sleep, well Ria goes to the couch to sleep.

Something inside of me wishes this isn’t the last time Lando is in my bed..

Should I finish this idk what I’m doing but I myself am going to bed too xx - author

thanks to these lovely authors who inspired me to write ahahahha:

@mariahcarreyyy @f1goat @uglyducklingofthe2000s @vivwritesfics

#lando norris #lando x reader #f1 fanfic #fanfic #f1 #lando fic #quadrant

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chryblossomjjk · 1 year

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glimpse of us (old concept) | jjk

→pairing: drummer!jk x reader

→rating/genre: m/18+ | was gonna be ex2l, smut, angst, fluff

→word count: 1k

→warnings: cursing, implied infidelity, jk smokes ciggys </3

→summary: You shouldn't have gone to the bar tonight, but you couldn't resist the urge to see Jungkook one last time.

→notes: ok so lmao !!! this is an early early concept of this fic. i wrote this before i even started my blog. i've turned glimpse of us into something COMPLETELY different, so this portion would've never seen the light of day. i sort of broke my ideas for this fic into other fics and wips (which u can probs tell if u've read my masterlist lol). but i found it in my drafts and thought it would be fun to share! and who knows... if u guys really like the concept kiki might consider making this into it's own thing (with a new name obvi). sorry if there’s typos !! tis was just a draft 💗

The static sound of muffled conversations was deafening. The low rumble of the blaring bass felt sharp against your spine as you leaned against the brick wall of the club. The cool night provided no relief to your burning skin. You inhale deeply, trying to calm the pounding in your chest.

What the fuck are you doing?

Shaky hands tug on the zipper of your shoulder bag, rummaging through the clutter until you find your phone.

11:45 p.m.

SAN still can’t believe u ditched me for shots w ur evil coworkers

SAN kidding lol have fun tonight babe

SAN call me when you get home so I know you’re safe

The sick feeling of guilt began bubbling in your stomach again. Especially when you unlocked your phone and were slapped in the face by your home screen. A picture of you and San at his cousin’s wedding last month.

The circumstances that led you to the bar tonight were questionable, to say the least. Sure, it was a decent place. The modern vibes lured in college students every weekend with the promise of live entertainment and a possible bathroom quicky afterward. You weren’t here for the ladder.

Friday nights were usually spent in the tub; soaking your sore body after a long week of catering to bridezillas and their overbearing mothers. Your boyfriend of three months, San, was currently at the campus library studying for finals. You should be too, however, you couldn’t resist the magnetic force that brought you here tonight. The pull personified as a post you stumbled upon while scrolling through your Instagram feed:

BTS LIVE. FRIDAY @9PM.

This was for closure. After tonight, you would purge your mind of the thing that held it captive for the past two years. You just needed to see the band one last time before you finally severed your connection to them, or more so, your connection with one specific member…

You shook your head, trying to erase your mind and focus on the task at hand; getting the fuck home. Your apartment wasn’t too far from your current location. Only about a ten-minute walk. But the heels you had been wearing all day fucking killed. Maybe that was your punishment.

You open the Uber app, but before you order yourself a ride, your screen stalls and fades to black.

“Fuck!” You whisper yell and stomp your black stiletto on the concrete. Very dramatic of you. In your defense, it had been a long, emotionally taxing, day. You wanted nothing more than to cry on your shower floor and send all your pent-up emotions down the drain. You pressed your palms into your eyes, head slumping down. The tears were already threatening to pour. This was a mistake.

You take another breath, trying to collect yourself. The oxygen gets caught in your throat when your momentary breakdown is interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice.

“Are you okay?”

As if the night couldn’t get any worse.

You turned your head to follow the sound, hoping the voice was a figment of your imagination. A cruel joke your mind was playing on you for coming here tonight.

It wasn’t.

Lifting your head and looking to the side, your eyes follow the sound.

Jungkook.

He’s sitting on the ground, back against the wall behind him. No regard for the gorgeous red fabric of his pants and matching jacket that his newfound success allowed him to afford. His head was tilted downward. The clicks of his lighter cut through the silent night air as he struggled to light the cigarette between his pink lips.

Although you’d never admit it, you had been keeping up with his social media accounts since the breakup. An entire two years ago. But nothing could’ve prepared you for when he took his seat behind the maroon drum set on the right side of the stage.

His once choppy bangs were now long and wavy, parted in the middle. You hadn’t noticed the undercut from your spot in the back of the crowd, watching him drum his heart out on stage. It was clear now, the downward angle of his head giving you a glimpse as his hair splayed over his eyes.

His chest was peeking out of the animal print blouse he was wearing. The old Jungkook would have never worn something so flashy.

Your Jungkook…

He had grown since the last time you saw him. That much was apparent. The gym selfies he frequently posted let you know he had taken on a new hobby. It was paying off too. His arms had filled out, bulging against the material of his coat. Nothing like the noodles you used to tease him for when you would watch him practice combos in his parents’ basement.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook spoke louder this time. The end of his sentence was cut off by a cough as he exhaled a puff of smoke. He had never been one to mind his own business. Always had something to say. A blessing and a curse. Currently, that quality of him you found endearing felt like a hex as he flipped the black strands out of his face, lifting his head in search of a reaction from the person ignoring him.

You didn’t miss the way his defined brows scrunched up in the middle when his eyes met yours.

Big and round. Still warm and innocent despite his progression from a boy to a man. The passage of time did nothing to diminish their light. All that passion. All that fire. They were the same eyes that haunted your mind, making your own well up with tears at the memory of them. The same eyes that you pretended you saw when you looked into San’s, hoping to get a glimpse of what was.

“__?”

You had no time to run. No time to craft an explanation as to why the fuck you were here. Frozen in place. You parted your glossed lips to speak, but nothing came out.

“__, what the fuck?” He didn’t sound angry. Didn’t look it either. Why would he be? Your break up was civil, a mutual decision. Your lives have become parallel. His band was taking off. You were busy with college. Your paths couldn’t intersect anymore.

He seemed more confused than anything.

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jlf23tumble · 1 year

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Fic Rec Anon - The best fics are deleted?!? No…

Canon, AU, Older or Newer, No ABO, No Mpreg.

Allstars? As in greatest of the greats? Yes please.

I loved Balm that you rec’d and that recent Oli fic. Of Mates and Men too.

Yeah, some of the very best authors have opted to delete, and rightfully so--fanfic is a gift, and if people are gonna be assholes, well, then no gifts! And I fully support any author who makes that move. I tend to download my faves so I can read them later, it just means that when I go look for a bookmark, it's sad to see the whole "this fic was deleted" (paraphrasing) notification..thank god I jot down author and fic name! Anyway, I digress, you have an ask, and I have a rather lengthy answer that I'll put under the cut:

So yeah, I use collections for bookmarks, and two of them are all-stars, the greatest of the great, so this was a relatively easy ask to answer, thanks to past me. The trick was editing back: each collection has close to 100 faves, so I decided to go with a theme. Welcome to the 21 club, I'm going to give you 21 all-star AUs and 21 all-star canons! To cheat, I went with different authors in both categories, and I picked authors whose work I love across the board, so do yourself a favor and go check out everything else they wrote, too--tbh, these were some REALLY hard choices to make!!

CANON

Self-cest, @jaerie, 2k. Is as it says!

Us, Me, We, @homosociallyyours, 2.3k. More self-cest!

No Control, thegirlwthekittentattoo, 2.6k. The bra's name is Christi, with an i!

she makes you want her love, enbyharry/ @non-binharry, 2.7k. BLs can't take this top!harry!

Feel my breath upon your thighs, cuckootrooke/ @larrydoinglaundry, 3k. This happened!

Want It Tonight, @lovingstheantidote, 3.4k. Teach me!

like craters in the moon, orphan_account, 3.9k. Dimple kink!

She Feels so Good, zedi, 4k. Late Late Show antics!

Fertile Ground, blaaake, 4.4k. If you've read Balm, come on!

mon petit, little one, publunchesownmyass, 5.6k. That sweater!

Google Says Cut That Out, littlemousling, 6k. Baby bdsm!

You Don't Need Me to Show the Way, loadedgunn, 6.5k. Tourbus shenanigans!

Only Thing That Can Quench My Thirst, eyesofshinigami, 6.5k. My beloved pubes fic!

One day to believe in you, mediaville, 7.7k. To tell the truth!

no one's gonna know, @jishlerfics, 9k. Oh, they'll know!

give you my fever, beautlouis, 10k. A literal virgin!

Temporary Tattoos, Hotel Hearts, Horizon Homes, teumessian, 17k. The only time travel fic I love!

The bootyverse is expanding series, yeah_alright/ @uhoh-but-yeah-alright, 21k. Every story, a GEM!

yeah, he's a looker, @thedevilinmybrain, 40k. Oli's sex-related errands!

Time Passed, coffinofachimera, 66k. A heart-clencher!

It's About Time, @kingsofeverything, 3.5k. Older and clueless!

With Just One Look, @littleroverlouis, 4k. Vampire Louis!

sensitive to pressure, momentofclarity/ @gaycousinlarry, 4.4k. I want moreeeeeeeee sweat kink!

this is my jam, @disgruntledkittenface, 4.5k. '90s bath house!

Copy of a…, nonsensedarling/ @absoloutenonsense, 5.5k. Return of the clone-a-willy!

Make Me Feel, @bananaheathen, 10k. Can u believe this was mid-omam!

Tuxedo Dress-Up, blaaake, 11k. Hands down, my very fave!

into another (another) serotonin overflow, mercutionotromeo, 11k. So much goin' on!

A Slow and Steady Rush, godots, 11k. The title matches the vibes!

it ain't trickin' if ya got it, sarcasticfluentry, 10k. UNPARALLELED smut writer!

Thought the Song Was Sung, 100percentsassy, 12k. The banter!

Alien Roadtrip!, @helloamhere, 16k. Is as it says!

Ever Since I Tried Your Way, flowercrownfemme, 25k. 1940s dreaminess!

Take Our Bodies Higher, @littlelouishiccups, 26k. Phone sex operator Harry!

Buried Like Treasure, QuickedWeen/ @becomeawendybird, 40k. This heist, plus some Marcel!

hush., wankerville, 41k. The SWOON of this story, holy shit, it's cinematic.

Tied Down, HamPalpert, 48k. This absolutely SHOULD be a movie!

Harry Styles Cooks…, sunsetmog, 61k. A wip that'll never finish, but who cares, god tier as is!

Not That Gone series, abrighteryellow/ @a-brighter-yellow, 66k. High school reunion results!

Turning Page, purpledaisy, 67k. Another movie I wanna see!

#fic rec #one direction #i'm kicking myself because there's one fave of mine that must be in another bucket #but oh well #21 club rules!#some faves #in hindsight maybe i could have done 23 for 2023??#that'll be a problem for end-of-the-year me

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justkpopjokes · 1 year

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SEVENTEEN as Alternative/Indie/Rock Songs

Several years ago, I started making this list of all the alt/indie/rock songs I associate with Seventeen! It’s my favourite genre of music, so I’ll be doing these for a few groups.

This was originally going to be a GFX series, so Jeonghan and Jun have links to my GFX posts. Otherwise, links are to the songs on YouTube!

S.COUPS

King — Zayde Wølf

Seungcheol is King, what else needs to be said?????

Mr. Wølf has got a full(?)/clean voice that I think matches well with Cheol's vibe

JEONGHAN

This is Gospel — Panic! At the Disco

((Check out the GFX here!))

Thought of Hannie when listening to the piano version actually

I think the fact there’s 2 official versions with different vibes kinda show Jeonghan’s softness vs the fact he’s cool af

(Like ALL HIS HIDDEN TALENTS?? ok Jeonghan I see u)

JOSHUA

Heart of Gold — Foreign Figures

The warmth this song radiates reminds me of Shua

I think it fits his vibe and he could sing it!

It’s not exactly his style, but he could rock it

JUN

Top of the World — Greek Fire

I feel like Junhui could sing a ver. of this where the tune is the same but has different instruments and less of shouting

Like the verses definitely fit!!

BONUS ! JUN

Let Me Down Slowly - Alec Benjamin

((Check out the GFX here!))

Bonus bc it’s technically indie pop not rock (though someone did make an alt rock cover!!!)

On that note, it’s also kind of like a ballad which wbk junhui slays

Junhui’s softness matched with Alec’s!! They both got soft voices like cotton candy

I still think Junhui’s voice is very purple and fits this song

HOSHI

Kung Fu — IAMCOUCHSURF

This song is definitely more of a fun/silly vibe than the others, which gives me Hoshi vibes!

I had another song for Hoshi that he could dance to, whereas this one is more of just a song to jam to than one he’d dance to

Though the singing style sounds kind of like Hoshi (in a rock context)

WONWOO

Man or a Monster — Sam Tinnesz ft. Zayde Wølf

Ngl if Wonu sang this... I would cry

The vibe of this song fits him really well imo

And the lyrics are smth I could write a fic abt w/him!! The point is it’s very vibey

WOOZI

Way Down We Go — KALEO

The piano is an immediate tie in to Jihoon's vibe

Soft indie rock!! Maybe not something he could sing himself, but it reminds me of him

THE8

Call Me Fighter — Matt Beilis

THINKING OF AN FMV WITH MINGHAO OOOH

This has soft verses but then the chorus really ramps it up

It’s like... such epic vibes and I feel like Hao could cover it if it was a little different? (like what I said abt Jun’s)

He could pull off the verses in Chinese for sure

MINGYU

Monster — Willyecho

I FEEL LIKE A *beat drop* *guitar riff* MONSTER

If you don't see Gyu playing electric guitar to that then idk what to say

I really love Mingyu as this song lol, he could really rock parts of it!!

Hell No! — Mel Senese

I think Dokyeom could sing this

But also I picked it because the vibe is definitely DK’s vibe (maybe even BooSeokSoon)

Like the hook and chorus give DK energy

SEUNGKWAN

Birds — Imagine Dragons

Originally I had this one for DK but I think Seungkwan’s voice fits the entire song better rather than DK who fits just the chorus/bridge

Like Seungkwan could sing this!! Maybe it’s not entirely his vibe but he could!!

I think this being more vocal-driven than other Imagine Dragons songs also lends to the Seungkwan vibes

VERNON

Dreamin' — The Score ft. Blackbear

Sorry can I get a cover of this from Vernon pls thanks Mr. Chwe 👉👈

Lyrics kind of fit him too; if you told me he wrote this song I would believe you

The lyrics are abt pursuing your dreams despite what other people say & that could be tied into his own issues, while having a vibe that fits him imo

"Listen to me now as I wash away my fears" YOU CAN’T TELL ME THAT’S NOT A VERNON LYRIC

DINO

Play with Fire — Sam Tinnesz

I would be lying if said I didn’t imagine myself w/Chan dancing to a choreo I made of this LMFAO

I think Chan could rock this song sO HARD if he made choreo

((ALSO I made this post literal years ago; SKZ Hyunjin did a dance for this song which is exactly what I was thinking of at the time))

WHOLE GROUP

Citizen of Heaven — Tauren Wells

This is gospel rock lol but I think this fits like a very specific early era of SVT

Like Shining Diamonds era and around that time!!

BONUS ! LEADER LINE

Can’t Stop Me Now — Oh The Larceny

Ok I don’t think this actually fits them vibe-wise, but nothing can stop these 3 like cmon now

So this is more of a theme song for them rather than smth they’d sing themselves

BONUS ! PERFORMANCE UNIT

Revenge, And A Little Bit More — Unlike Pluto

Pluto himself calls his style electronic rock so I’m including it lol

SVT could make a choreo to this and I would cry

I’m not sure why I thought of perf. unit but somehow it works??

#seventeen as #seventeen headcanons #seventeen #.txt

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yoongsisbae · 3 years

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Caught! House of Cards - Chapter 3

You joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down…

OT7 yandere!BTS x reader / Namjoon x Taehyung x reader this chapter

Oh, I was dying writing this chapter so I think I wrote it well? Heh there’s a lot going on, so you have been warned lol. Also hope to post HOAL soon, that is if BTS would stop attacking me with all these sexy bad boy photoshoots that scream C!HOC mens. Sorry, but can you really blame me? :(

Warnings: 18+ dark themes, reader manipulation, scary yandere behavior, voyeur, masturbation, lots of drinking and drunkenness, dubcon, dry humping on the dance floor lol, this is pretty filthy, all of them are horny, dom!Namjoon, dom!Taehyung, Tae’s a lot, shibari, bondage, blindfold, rough sex, edging, multiple orgasms, threesome, degradation, Yoongi continues to be a meanie, slut shaming, extreme regret for reader that could be triggering I think, tell me if I need to tag anything else

PSA: to reiterate, this is a yandere fic, this is all fantasy, this is scary, no one actually wants this to happen to them irl. But I’m also here for you if you wanna enjoy some hot fictional villains, alright? I got u boo.

Word Count: 8.7k

Playlist: Rotimi - Push Button Start // Shenseea - Blessed (with Tyga) // ROSALIA - Con Altura // Sean Paul - Go Down Deh // Afro B - Drogba // Aya Nakamura - Pookie // DJ Nelson - PAPI //J Balvin - Amarillo // SUPA NYTRO - Tik Pon Cock // Paris Lain - Way (links here)

---

“P-please...”

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum, Daddy.”

He groans in your ear. “Hmm no.” He pulls his fingers out of you, you hold onto the banister as your orgasm escapes you. Your body shakes with need.

“You’ll come find me later tonight, won’t you, baby girl?” His warmth leaves your body, when you turn around no one is there.

---

Your legs are still shaking as you make your way downstairs. You tried not to think about the slick between your thighs as you descended each step, or think about RM’s warm breath against your ear. No, you won’t think about his deep voice that makes you shiver still, or the way he massaged your neck like he had done it a hundred times before...out of all the weird fucked up things you thought could happen tonight, never ever did you expect to meet RM again.

He reminded you of all the reasons why you allowed yourself to fall deeper into that kind of exhibitionistic lifestyle as a carded member. The money was good, but the sweetest rewards were corporal. The saccharine praise your admirers would give you became addicting. You even became close to some of them, for an extra fee.

What was it your old school counselor would say? It wasn’t about the destination, the real reward was the friends you made along the way. Except your new friends told you all their dirty filthy desires and watched as you would get off for them. You learned quickly your sexual appetite was ravenous, the more you indulged the worse it got. You had been starved for attention for so long, quarantine only amplifying your loneliness, and the dark site fed you well.

RM also reminded you of all the reasons why you left. You still don’t understand how you fell so deep so fast, let digital become physical when you promised yourself you wouldn’t. The House Rules made the descent into filth almost inevitable. During your only experience inside The House, you had been shown truths you didn’t want to face, depravities you enjoyed. After that night you went home, showered away your sins until your skin burned, logged out and never logged back in. It was the best way to end your addiction to House of Cards, end it cold turkey.

You were not prepared for this again. You were not prepared for how much you craved it.

---

The party became wild. Your body now hyper aware of everything after RM worked you up so skillfully and denied you any release. The music reverberates throughout the halls, the beats of the bass clashes with the pounding in your head. The smell of drugs and sex assaults your nostrils, and every time a dancer bumps into you, your body remembers RM’s touch.

So many bodies around you and you feel all alone like an outcast. Where’s Yoongi? You're beginning to miss that annoying smirk and the overconfident man attached to it, you could use some of that confidence right now.

As the room spins around you, your eyes find the place where you had been standing. You’re disappointed it’s empty. Not that you knew what RM looked like, but you feel like you’d recognize him as soon as you saw him, a man like that would look like walking sin.

You shift your upward gaze to the gold ropes hanging from the ceiling, eyes traveling down until you meet the glistening body of a woman. She’s so beautiful it makes you ache, arms secured behind her back, her leg extended and tied high, her other leg bent and pressed to her side and her spread open for everyone to see.

You play with the pendant around your neck, and you can’t help but imagine yourself in her position, tied up for everyone to see, for Yoongi to watch. You’re soaking. You need a drink.

---

“Hey,” you bump into Yoongi’s side as you sit down, grabbing his whisky glass and downing what’s left. The burning liquid makes you grimace, face scrunching up in distaste.

He pulls the glass from your grip, looking you up and down, sharp eyes narrowing, “Where have you been?”

“I got lost.” His arm snakes around your waist. His touch feels good, you don’t want to admit how much your body yearns for more, wants to be wanted. “Where are Jimin and Hobi?”

“Dancing,” Taehyung interjects as he gets closer to you, offering you another glass of champagne. You take it gratefully, sipping on the sweet liquid, anything to numb the ache you feel inside.

His eyes sparkle as he scrutinizes you up close, examining your dark makeup and tight dress. He wants to smear the red lipstick on your lips with his fingers, and his mouth, and his cock. He wants to stain your pretty black dress with his cum, let the milky white fluid drip all over the black silky fabric, between your breasts-

“I’m sorry, what is your name again?”

You ask him so innocently, Taehyung can forgive you for forgetting. Jungkook on the other hand, silently simmers with rage, especially when Yoongi smirks at him, sitting pressed to your side like a lover would.

“Taehyung,” The man gives you a big wide smile, “that's Seokjin,” he points to the tall man who keeps his distance, “and this,” he hits Jungkook’s chest and pulls him into a headlock, “is Jungkook!” Taehyung leans in to whisper in your ear, “a big fan.”

Your eyes go wide, did you hear him correctly? You watch the two play fight. Jungkook punches his older friend in the side a bit harder than he was expecting, earning a yell from Taehyung. They act cute, you think, Jungkook looks too innocent, you can’t believe he had watched you in his free time.

Hoseok and Jimin find their way back into the group. “Y/n, you’re back! Yoongi was about to send out a search party for you.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, and you lean your chin onto your palm, raising your eyebrows at him, trying to hide your smile at the way they tease him.

“Is that so?” His fingers pinch the flesh of your back at your retort, making you squirm at the ticklish sensation. When you try to pull his hand away, he takes the opportunity to intertwine your fingers together, pulling you firmly to his side.

You look down at Yoongi’s hand in yours, resting on your hip. Without the alcohol cursing through your veins you might have pushed him off you, but instead you sit buzzed and docile. He acts so possessive of you in front of the others, it makes your heart race. “Well I’m here now.”

“I’ll cheers to that!” Jimin fills everyone’s drinks. 7 glasses clang together and they cheer, making you giggle as you down the glass. One cheers becomes two, and then another bottle comes, until you're welcoming back that hazed state of mind that feels so freeing. The background fades away and the booming music around you becomes muffled as you try your best to focus on the conversation, until you realize you’re in Yoongi’s lap, his veiny hands dancing around your exposed thigh. He says something you can’t hear, so you tilt your head back, resting on his shoulder, whining out a slurred, “what!”

“You’re having too much fun.” He suppresses the urge to move his fingers higher, instead tracing lazy circles into your leg, making you twist in his lap, lips parting as you enjoy the sensation. Your body feels heavy from inebriation, so you lean your weight onto him more, focused on his cold rings against your warm skin.

You move your head closer to his. “You wanted to bring me here, right?” you laugh, and you swivel your body against him, grinding into his lap to the tempo of the music. Yoongi notices the others' heated stares, so he shifts his leg, pressing his hands into your thighs, opening your legs wider, and you’re too drunk to notice or care.

Yoongi tries to hold onto his thinning composure, how many times had he thought of you like this? So receptive and needy in his arms. He enjoys your torturous hip rolls, reveling in the fact that the sight tortures his audience even more. But you’re not really paying attention to that, your body only responding to how the music beat hits so well, his growing erection encouraging you to keep rubbing up against him like a cat in heat.

“Y/n, let's go dance!” Hoseok calls out to you over the music. His request pulls you from your trance. You sit up, shaking the clouded haze from your mind.

“Dance? Okay!” You let Hoseok pull you to your feet, stumbling slightly into him.

You turn to Yoongi, “You don’t mind, do you?” you ask, ready to start a fight. He glares at you. You sway on your feet and glare back. Such a brat, he thinks, you’ll just have to be taught a lesson later. Yoongi picks up his whisky and waves you off.

---

The dance floor is hot and alive with writhing bodies. You let Hoseok roll his hips into you from behind, your own hips following his movements. His toned arms lock around you, holding you, as he pulls your body lower and lower, until you’re crouched to the floor, your bodies connecting again and again as he rubs his hardening bulge into your ass to the beat.

It feels so so good, his warm body on you, seeking pleasure from one another. Every roll and buck helps to release the frustration RM did to you.

Hoseok’s hands pull your dress higher so you can spread your knees wider. He holds the bunched up fabric to your core to keep what’s left of your modesty, and your arms reach behind you to hook around his neck to keep yourself steady.

Hoseok is such a good dancer, masterfully guiding your loose body. You pull and push each other along to the sensual music, shifting your weight against your combined center of gravity as your bodies heat up in each other’s embrace.

Hoseok moves the hair from your neck away, blowing air on the back of your neck. His hand cups your breast, fondling you out in the open, “You like when I do this to you, don’t you Dahlia?” You’re too drunk to catch the pseudonym he uses.

You close your eyes focusing on his hands groping your body, your fingers fisting into his hair, pulling him closer, and his tongue licks off the sweat on your neck. Hoseok knows all the ways to leave you delirious with lust, hands running up and down your body, massaging your curves and leading your hips to meet his. If he’s making you feel this good with your clothes on, you can only imagine how amazing he’d be in bed, hips rolling against you as he fills you up with his stiff cock...

You’re so focused on Hoseok you don’t realize another body moving closer to you, another pair of hands on you, until Taehyung presses himself into your front.

The music fills your head, the dirty words being sung encouraging you to release all your inhibitions. Your arms reach out to run up Taehyung’s abdomen, up and up his chest, loving the feel of his muscles under your fingers.

He places your arms around his neck as he moves forward, his leg slotting between yours. With Hoseok grinding against your back and Taehyung rubbing against your front, you feel like you’re going to combust. The crowd around you is a blur, but everything about them feels so solid, so hard against you. Caged between them, you submit to every caress, every touch from both men.

Taehyung holds the back of your head to keep your eyes on him as Hoseok leaves open mouth kisses on your shoulder. Taehyung’s thumb caresses your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.” his mouth slides across your jaw, under your ear, licking and nibbling at your lobe, giving you goosebumps, “You’re the most beautiful woman here.”

You place your finger over his mouth pushing him away, too embarrassed to hear more, but your hips can’t help but push into him at the praise.

“Come with me,” he pulls you away from Hoseok, his friend winking at him behind your back, and you foolishly follow him through the sea of dancing bodies.

---

Pulling you into a dark corner, he cages you in before you can protest. Lips finding your neck, hooking a finger under your choker, pulling up, forcing your neck to tilt so he can reach more skin. Even if you want more, you still have some sense left in you to know letting Yoongi’s friend do this to you in front of everyone is a bad idea. “W-wait. Yoongi will-”

Taehyung’s arm slams into the wall. The noise startles you into silence. It’s Yoongi, always Yoongi. What about him? He steadies his breathing after noticing your wide eyes.

“Y/n, do you know who I am?” He leans onto the wall hovering over you, dark eyes peering down at you as he waits for your answer.

You feel your stomach drop under his intimidating gaze. “Should I know who you are?”

He answers your question with another question, “Do you know who Yoongi is? Do you really have no idea?” His interrogation takes you aback.

“He’s one of my...v-viewers...”

“Yes, who? You never thought to ask, baby?” Taehyung looks at you so accusingly, you feel ashamed that you can’t answer him.

“Who is he?” You ask.

He smiles, a twisted grin that makes you feel uneasy. Eyes lighting up darkly once his suspicions were proved right.

“How about this, since we both have so many unanswered questions, why don’t we play a game? I’ll answer one of your questions and then you answer one of mine. I’ll even let you go first.” His playful demeanor is back, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“Who are you?”

Taehyung smiles wide. You asked the right question. “I go by V.”

What? “You’re V?”

---

You log into the House of Cards website, open your account to a litany of unread messages. Your eyes skim through them, and one catches your eye. It’s V, the second highest donator from the other night’s stream.

V: you looked so beautiful the other night. I hope to see another broadcast soon...for next time?

V sent you an eighty dollar donation and a link to a lingerie set: pink lace, a sheer see-through pattern on the cups with a matching lace thong and garter belt.

You’ve bought lingerie for men before, for then boyfriends on your anniversaries or Valentine’s day dates, but you’ve never had a man buy you lingerie before. With shipping you’ll still have money left over, so you decide to add some more things in your basket to surprise him for being such a generous donor. It’s not because you had enjoyed his compliments the most during your stream, no. You found a cute pair of thigh high socks and some stick on rhinestones, coming up with a plan to get V’s attention. You squeal once the order goes through, ‘time to arts and craft in this bitch.’

You open his message again, fingers hovering over the keyboard, what should you say? Should you make it sound sexy or cute? ‘C’mon y/n, just flirt.’

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. Just for you sexy <3

Ew ew. No. Before pressing enter you delete the last sentence.

Dahlia: Thank you, V. I will wear it for my next broadcast. See you soon ;)

You go through all your messages, in a much better mood than you’ve been in a long time. You bop your head to the music that flows through your speakers in your living room while coming up with different replies to each new viewer.

It feels good to be stress free, you think, while sipping on cup ramen because you’re still waiting until your earnings clear your account to buy groceries. You’ve managed to answer every message when a new notification dings. V attached a picture.

V: I can’t wait.

Holy... A picture of a shirtless man from the neck down pops up. He’s not overly muscular, but he’s lean and toned, with defined pecs and v-line. Mmm. ‘V’ indeed. His jeans are unbuttoned. His legs spread wide, as if he were inviting you to sit on his lap.

You’re being catfished, you surmise. This man has to be using someone else’s pictures. Or he has a face only a mother could love. Either way, you’ll play with this fantasy. it’s not like you’ll actually ever meet in real life.

So you decide to play along, it’s not like you had work to go to, or anything to do really. Locked up in your tiny home alone and slowly going stir crazy would lead to some unfortunate decisions for you. One of the worst, allowing V to get so close to you.

Abandoning your snacks, you grab your laptop and run to the bedroom, jumping on your bed. Your laptop opens to another risque photo, his jeans zipped even lower. Hand grabbing a very defined bulge resting inside his pants leg. Well fuck.

Dahlia: is that really you?

V: yes baby

V: I wish you were here with me right now. I would make you feel so good, just like you deserve.

V: How about you, am I turning you on?

You clench your legs together instinctively.

Dahlia: you are.

V: are you touching yourself?

Should you lie? You could. But the pictures and his words are doing something to you, you feel jitters and a quick pace and a throbbing core. Suddenly you have an idea.

Dahlia: why don’t you see for yourself?

You create a private room, aim your camera down, mirroring the same angle in V’s picture and send the link to him. You pull the front of your sundress down to show more cleavage and the hem up to show more leg, and you wait.

There’s a notification: ‘1 new viewer.’

V: you look so pretty, you look like a doll

V: I wish I was there.

“Yeah? What would you do to me?”

V: I would spread your legs

You spread your legs at his words. Your stream plays in Taehyung's bedroom, he watches intently, and when your panties come into view he pulls his jeans down to his thighs freeing his hard erection, slowly stroking himself to the sight of your body.

V: fuck, so good baby. being so good for me.

V: I would take off your panties. slowly

You follow his commands and slowly remove your underwear. You like being told what to do, you imagine he’s on the bed with you, telling you everything, guiding your pleasure.

V: touch yourself for me

V: you’re wet already? how cute

V: that’s a good girl, just like that

V: imagine it’s me. my fingers stuffed inside of you, giving you everything you want

V: you’re mine and mine only

V: you’re going to be mine to kiss and fuck. I’ll take care of you baby doll, make you cum all over my fingers. You want that too?

V: you're so pretty baby, you like putting on a filthy show for me? desperate little girl

V: open your legs wider

V: doing so well for me, stay just like that. you’re driving me crazy

V: cum for me

You pulse, moaning out loud, reaching your high. When your lust filled haze clears you don’t feel dirty like before, you feel good. Even better when V sends you another eighty dollar donation.

Taehyung played sweet and affectionate very well. When talking to other House members you’d try your best to keep things as vague as possible, but sometimes you’d let certain things slip with V, and he always listened so well. Shit, he treated you better than your ex. He’d send you sweet messages, gifts, and the hottest body shots. He would do that often, it made you needy for more affection. He was a part of a small group of viewers that you’d offer special private streams to. Little did you know your carefree playdates were Taehyung’s obsessions.

---

Taehyung feels a special kind of gratification at the way you gawk at him, stunned into silence. “Now my turn,” Taehyung’s expression goes from playful to serious in an instant, “Why are you here with Yoongi?”

You swallow, this was V all along. You teetered between happiness and unease, you remembered all the sweet memories you had with him, but this man was still a stranger to you. He keeps staring at you, is this how he looked watching you through the computer screen? Fuck, your imagination could not have dreamed up a sexier man. Oh right, he is waiting for your answer.

You explain to him what happened, Yoongi recognizing you at your job, the agreement you made with him afterwards. Taehyung moves from hovering over you to standing by your side. He listens intently as his eyes scan the crowd. You watch the dancers as you sober up, observing the debauchery you had just been a part of. Taehyung hums as you finish your story.

“Who is-” Taehyung doesn’t let you finish, his eyes staring at the second floor’s balcony. “You looked like you enjoyed yourself. You looked so pretty up there, with my friend’s fingers inside you. You were being such a cute little slut.” His eyes roll back inside his head and he opens his mouth sighing.

He saw you. Did the others- “Did Yoongi see?!” you pull on his arm to get him to focus on you.

“No, he didn’t, just me. My turn!”

You felt tricked, using your question up already.

He turns to face you, leaning his side against the wall. You can't help but notice how he stares at you like he’s undressing you with his eyes, gaze traveling down your body and pausing at every place your skin shows, your cleavage and your thighs. “He really worked you up, you looked so guilty when you came back,” Taehyung’s teasing tone back again, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Yoongi suspected something.”

Your eyes go wide with worry. “I’m willing to keep that secret for you if...” he bites his lip and leans in whispering, “I bet you’re still wet too. Can I have a taste?”

“R-right now?”

“Yes. That’s my turn again! And I’m waiting for my answer.” He gets closer to you, pressing up against you again, his hands brushing against your thigh. You look around, how far away are you from the crowd? How far away are you from Yoongi?

His lips brush against your temple as he leans his jaw against your forehead. “No one will see. Put your hands back on my shoulder, c’mon baby, be good for me.” His body blocks you from everyone’s view.

His head in your hair, taking a long inhale, breathing in your scent, Taehyung can’t get enough of you. Your shaky arms obey him, laying loosely on top of his broad shoulders. You lay your head on his chest, even if his words come out smooth, his heart is racing as he moves quickly between your bodies, dipping his long fingers inside you. You try to bite back a moan, but it feels too good.

Taehyung feels like he’s going to burst. You’re so wet, dripping all over his hand. He tries to fight his urges, there’s so many things he wants to do to you. Your soft whimpers sound so beautiful, so much better in person. You’re his to play with, all his.

He groans, pushing you hard against the wall. He looks like he’s going to devour you, your body tenses and you clench around his fingers. It only encourages him on. You grip his shoulders as he drives his hand upward, fingers pushing into you deeply as you fight against gravity, forced to stand on your tiptoes, struggling against him as his mouth attacks your neck, biting down hard. It’s too rough, too fast. “Tae-V-stop!”

His entire body stills against you, except for his fingers, teasing you still as they steadily press around inside your walls. You try to come to your senses, but everything about him unravels you.

He whispers against your forehead. “Last round, baby doll.” His voice raspy and breathing heavy as he holds himself back from tearing the clothes off your body. “One more question for each of us. I know where RM is, do you want to know?”

'RM,' who told you to find him, and V, who knows where. You gasp and nod your head, waiting but Taehyung smiles down at you in silence, fingers sliding out of you, making you whimper and grip the wall for support when he finally gives you space. He stays quiet as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking the wetness off his palm.

Your legs feel like jello, your body buzzes with each shameless lick as you watch him. You swallow the saliva accumulating in your mouth, pushing the lump in your throat down. You know what he wants. You played right into his trap, and the worst part is you want it too.

“Where is he?”

---

“If you think you’re going to keep her all to yourself you’re in for a rude awakening!” Jungkook grits out.

Yoongi sits quietly with his arms folded as Jungkook starts hurling accusations at him. Jin and Hoseok try to calm the youngest down, but it’s no use.

He grabs Yoongi’s collar, the action making Yoongi finally snap, and without warning Yoongi punches him squarely in the face. Yoongi had taken advantage of his friends holding Jungkook back and distracting him, satisfied when the young man recoils, stumbling back.

Before he can really lose it, Hoseok and Jimin drag Jungkook away, as the youngest screams all the ways he’s going to make Yoongi pay, not even aware of the blood leaking from his nose. Jin pulls Yoongi away in the opposite direction, “We need to talk.”

Jin walks Yoongi outside so they can both get some fresh air and clear their heads.

“He needs to learn not to disrespect his elders,” Yoongi mutters, wiping the blood off his knuckles.

“You know how he gets,” Jin counters, “Don’t act like you didn’t want that exact reaction from him. You were egging him on all night with y/n.”

Yoongi scoffs. He can’t stand how Jungkook acts like you belong with him. Jungkook is crazy. He’s too hot-headed and oversensitive, the complete opposite of Yoongi. The youngest suffers from inexperience and naivety. All that bark, and he couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you. No, Jungkook doesn’t deserve you, Yoongi thinks, he could never take care of you like Yoongi could.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish? You brought y/n back and we’re all happy for that, but if Jungkook is right, then I’m going to have to agree with him, brother.” Jin squeezes his friend’s shoulder and Yoongi shakes him off.

“I wasn’t going to keep her locked away.” Yoongi says dismissively. Not that he didn't think once or twice about it.

“How gracious of you.”

“Listen, I found her. She chose me before and she’ll choose me again. The last time you were with her, what happened, Brother? Hobi and Jimin, Jungkook and even you can fight over her all you want. In the end, she will come back to me.”

Jin smiles, he will let Yoongi think that. “And where is your y/n now?”

“I’ll go find her,” Yoongi goes to leave, itching to get you by his side again.

Jin’s hand on his chest stops him. Jin can’t help but smile at his poor friend’s situation, he had been tricked by the two youngest, a plan they orchestrated themselves and everyone else went along with. But Jin couldn’t keep his friend in the dark any longer, especially when revealing the truth would make the aftermath that much more entertaining for Jin.

“I have to tell you something.”

---

You stand in front of the door Taehyung had led you to, your nerves on high alert. Taehyung stands behind you, humming to himself. His arm reaches over your shoulder to rapt three knocks on the door.

As the door knob turns, Taehyung exclaims behind you, “Oh! I forgot.” His long fingers cover your eyes, as he pulls your head back, your body stumbling and crashing against him.

“Taehyung!”

“Shh. Calm down, it’s more fun this way,” he whispers in your ear as you hear the door creak open.

“What do we have here?”

“I brought her for you,” Taehyung purrs. You can feel his chest puff up behind you, he’s ecstatic, you played his game so perfectly, he was so proud of you.

“Good boy.”

You feel fingers wrap around yours as Namjoon brings your hands to his lips, caressing your knuckles. “And what about you? Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

---

Jimin tends to Jungkook’s bleeding nose as Hoseok pours himself a drink. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Kookie.”

Jungkook keeps his head tilted back to stop the blood, glancing over to Hoseok, lips curving in a smile, he’s happy that he accomplished his part of the plan successfully, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

Jimin flicks him in the forehead. “No you’re not, unless you want y/n to never forgive you.”

“She won’t,” he pouts, “she acts like she hates him. I’ll be doing her a favor.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

---

The room is quiet, too quiet compared to the raucous party outside. So when Taehyung drags a chair from the corner of the room, the wood scraping against the floor sounds all the more foreboding. Goosebumps bloom on your body as if Taehyung dragged his fingernails along your skin instead.

You sit kneeling on the floor waiting, knees tucked underneath you. RM sits on the bed behind you, legs outstretched and you between them. You stare down at his shoes, shiny black loafers, and glance at his pants legs on either side of you. It's the first time you’ve ever seen a part of him. You want to look up so badly, the idea sits heavy on you, tensing every muscle in your body as you fight your curiosity. The only thing you want more is to find out what will happen if you obey them.

Taehyung pulls the chair right in front of you, facing the bed, you and RM. Another pair of shoes brush against your knees as Taehyung takes a seat.

RM’s fingers rest atop your head and keep your head tilted down while he waits for his friend to situate himself. Until eventually RM moves behind you, fingers fisting your hair and pulling you to your feet. “Go sit on his lap.”

Taehyung sits looking at you like he's just been given first place prize, smirking pridefully as you walk towards him on shaky legs. His shirt is already unbuttoned, tan skin and taunt muscles in full view. That's V, all right. Your insides ache for him, his seduction luring you in like a firefly to light.

Your dress stretches around your thighs as you straddle him, his hands grabbing at your ass and pulling your body into his.

You hear RM’s low voice growl behind you, “Kiss him.”

For a moment you think about the intense quiet man who brought you to this island, his piercing eyes flashing through your mind until Taehyung’s lips crash into yours and you can only think about how sweet the man devouring you tastes, and you kiss him back, exploring his mouth with your tongue.

His hands grope your body, pull your face closer, force away the fabric of your clothes. His touch is everywhere, keeping you distracted only on him as RM sets things up behind you.

RM pulls off his tie as Taehyung’s hands move to either side of your face, and he pulls you away from him, leaving one last peck on your lips, “You’re doing so well, baby doll. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

“V...Taehyung, I-I’ve wanted this too.”

“Will you do what I say?” You feel RM’s hands unzip the back of your dress, the fabric lowers and exposes your chest. Taehyung’s grip on your face tightens as you’re momentarily distracted, bringing your attention back to him.

“Yes.”

“I want you to fuck RM while I watch.”

He what who?

Taehyung brings his hips up causing you to lose your balance when he senses your hesitation, his hard length rubs against your aching core, “Don’t you want to? You wanted so badly for me to take you to him, didn’t you? All you have to do is say yes.”

His thumb traces your jaw as RM lowers his black tie across your eyes. Your heartbeat races, your thighs clench around Taehyung’s legs making him moan and buck into your heat. You shudder and RM secures his tie behind your head with a tight knot.

“Tae...” your fingers tighten into the loose fabric of his shirt at your sudden loss in vision.

Taehyung clasps his hands around yours, holding your wrists together as RM presses himself against your back, and you feel ropes being wrapped around your wrists. “You’re so pretty like this, remember last time?”

You do remember. Fuck, how did you end up like this again? This is all Yoongi’s fault.

RM’s hand wraps around your neck and his deep voice speaks in your ear, “Answer him, baby girl.”

“I-I remember.” You want to cry, you want to cum, you want them to stop this torture.

“Let us make you feel good again,” Taehyung’s voice lowers even deeper than RM’s.

“I...okay.”

“You’ll let RM use you?” You nod your head, grateful you can’t see them. You let yourself hide behind the makeshift blindfold.

“Use your words, I want to hear you say it,” RM demands.

“I want you to use me,” you sit and wait, embarrassed the words left your mouth so easily. The lack of response makes your insides churn, you can’t see the way they smile at each other. If Yoongi wants to make you only his, they are just going to have to destroy you for any other man.

RM’s grip around your neck tightens, arm wrapping around your body as he lifts you off your feet. You land on the soft covers of the bed, you have no time to adjust to the drastic change of orientation before you feel harsh tugs as RM works to undress you, throwing the clothes over to Taehyung who takes his time breathing in your scent, licking the moistness from the fabric.

Namjoon pulls on the rope wrapped around your wrists placing them high above your head, his weight bears down on top of your leg as he grabs your other leg and spreads you wide. The way Taehyung moans reach your ears you suspect he has full view of your naked body. You wiggle against RM’s hold as best you can.

“Mmmm so needy and I’m not even doing anything yet.” RM’s hand leaves your wrists as he moves lower, resting his upper body on top of yours, effectively pinning your lower body down. Having full reign to play with you in this position, you feel his fingers teasing at your entrance. Your tied hands explore the expanse of his back, his shoulders so wide you can’t reach around to end his teasing, you can only moan and whimper at his slow ministrations.

“Ahh so wet,” RM massages everywhere except the place you want him most.

This is mean, this is tortuous, you’ve obeyed them and they still tease you. You cry out in frustration, clenching every time his fingers poke at your hole, RM’s grip on your thigh is too tight to move even an inch. You shove his back with your tied hands and RM laughs.

“Tae, help me out.” You feel fingers finally pressing into your aching clit, rubbing slow circles, making you cry out. RM’s fingers continue to drag across your lips, gathering the wetness that drips from your core. They slowly and steadily work the tension out of you until you’re numb with pleasure.

You let out a scream when your orgasm finally hits you. After being tortured all night, teased until you were delirious, the release becomes so intense you black out, and when you come to RM is pumping his fingers into you roughly. Your body seizes up again, racing into another orgasm. He rocks his hand into you, thumb rubbing your sensitive hood, and you release again. But RM doesn’t stop. He takes and takes, leaving you breathless. The sounds of your wetness fills the room, mixing with Taehyung’s grunts and moans at your helpless state.

“I c-can’t...too sensitive!”

“This is what you wanted, for Daddy to use you. Take it.”

Your tied hands try to move RM’s body off of you, but he is like a boulder on top of your body, unaffected by your hits. You struggle until his pleasure overtakes the pain, and you fall back, losing yourself in the way his fingers fill you up, hitting the deepest parts of you so skillfully. You stop fighting and accept the power he holds over you, he is making you feel so good you want him to take it, the thought sends you hurtling into another orgasm, tightening again around his fingers.

He can feel how close you are. “Be a good girl and give me one more,” RM groans, “that’s it.”

You’re wailing in pleasure now, unable to stop your cries. Your weak body shaking in his grasp. You feel something wet hit your outstretched thigh. Taehyung’s deep grunts of release finally undoing the coil inside you, and you orgasm for a third time around RM’s fingers.

RM lets go of you finally and you lie boneless, breathing ragged, blind and numb to the world. The air feels cool on your sweaty body as you come down from your high. You feel the bed dip as RM joins you again. Before he had been fully dressed, now you can feel his warm skin against your slippery body.

He lays himself between your legs. His lips finally meet yours, they feel full. You moan into his mouth as his tongue plays with yours. You want to touch his face but your arms are still tied together, so you caress his hair instead, the back of his neck, his muscular shoulders, trying to feel as much as you can.

His hard length brushes against your oversensitive core, his mouth swallowing your whimpers as he pushes himself in. You’re so wet there’s no resistance, but the stretch still leaves you gasping. His thrusts are hard and deep, you focus on how the weight of his body feels on top of yours as he uses you to reach his high. “You’re taking Daddy so well, baby.”

“T-Thank you, Daddy,” you stutter out between moans.

RM holds your wrists down as he finishes, releasing deep inside you. You feel every pulse from his cock, the pressure almost becoming too much as he fills you up.

You hear the familiar scrape of the chair again as Taehyung comes closer, fingers wiping away the tears on your face making you feel cared for. You don’t see how he licks your salty tears off his hand.

RM lifts your tired body in his arms, cradling you to his chest. He puts you in his lap as he takes a seat in the vacant chair.

“Tae has been such a patient boy, I think it’s time for his reward.”

RM moves your body so your back is flush against his, pulling the rope on your hands around his head, locking your arms. His hand massages up and down your legs, putting his knees in between yours.

“Kneel.” You realize RM is addressing Taehyung. He spreads his legs to make room for Taehyung, forcing your legs open in the process.

“RM-” Namjoon places his hand over your mouth, the same way he did at the party, stifling your scream as Taehyung buries his face into your pussy.

Taehyung eats you out while RM keeps you open, until you’re shaking in his lap, until you can’t form anything coherent anymore, until you’re so sensitive Taehyung’s lips around your clit is the only thought in your head, the drag of his tongue pulling away from you the last thing you feel before exhaustion sends you into the deepest sleep of your life.

---

You wake up alone.

You pull the sheets closer to your naked body as you look around the vacant room. Everything is moved back to its place, floor empty. You search the ground for your clothes but there’s nothing there. You pull yourself out of bed, trying to ignore your aching joints and pounding head. You look for your clothes but there’s nothing. You search the entire room, the closet is empty, the dresser is empty, there’s not even a towel in the bathroom. Where the hell are your clothes?!

You make your way back into bed, pulling the covers over your body.

Oh fuck, what are you going to do?

What time is it? They just left you and took your clothes. What kind of sick game is Taehyung playing now? Tears well up in your eyes.

You feel more confused than ever, Taehyung had been so sweet to you before, you had often fantasized meeting him, but he was so different in person. You hadn’t expected this. He’s going to come back, right? Right?!

You are pulled away from your thoughts at the sound of the door creaking open.

“I see you’ve been a very bad girl.” Your eyes widen as Yoongi makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him. He looks as smug as ever, holding a hanger over his shoulder.

“A-Are those my clothes?”

“Are these the clothes I gave you last night? No, looks like you fucked yourself out of those.” You pull the bedsheet closer to you, gritting your teeth, blinking away your tears.

“Yoongi...”

“Hmm?” He leans against the bedpost, the clothes hanger hanging off one finger. You want to punch him, but you know you're walking on thin ice already.

“P-please help me.”

“You lost the clothes I got you. Why should I give you more?” You can tell he’s itching to humiliate you.

“So you’re just going to leave me here naked?!” you yell at him.

His eyes narrow. He grabs the bedsheet and pulls, dragging it off your body before you can stop him. You wrap your arms around your chest and pull your legs together.

“I should, after what you did!” Yoongi screams, “Whoring yourself out to my friends. Two at the same time, enjoy yourself? Fucking slut.” His words sting you. How could you fuck up so badly, you just let yourself become overtaken by lust.

“Now look at you. You let them take advantage of you. They used you and they left you with nothing. What would you have done if I didn’t find you?” He crosses his arms, his cold eyes glaring at you.

You burst into tears. Is he right? Is that what they did to you? “I’m-s-so-sorry,” you manage to say between sobs.

He sighs, “I’m here now.” You need him, he’s going to make you see that. He moves closer, lifting your chin to look at him. “If they had taken this,” his hand brushes your choker, “I would have killed them.”

You look at him pleadingly, trying to silence your sniffles. He offers you the clothes hanger, “Change into this.”

---

You unzip the clothes bag and pull out a dress with a light flowery pattern. The fabric is sheer and flowy. The matching lingerie set is pastel pink and strappy. Well, even if he is an asshole at least you can count on Yoongi to make you look good. You clean up your makeup and style your hair as best you can in the empty bathroom, removing what's left of the smudged dark eyeshadow, pushing thoughts from last night away. The more you try to make sense of what transpired, the more confused you become, and remembering just makes you feel hot all over.

Yoongi pushes himself off the wall when you open the door.

There is still music playing, still people dancing, a lot less than the night before, but you’re amazed there are any at all.

“Does the party ever end?” you think out loud.

“Only if you want it to.”

Yoongi leads you outside. When you reach the backyard you realize the party truly never really ended, only moved. Partygoers lounge by the pool, drinking and eating.

“Is that a fucking mermaid?” Girls dressed up in tails lay about the pool, you're about to run towards them when Yoongi pulls you away from the pool. “Let’s eat before you decide to go make friends.”

You walk in step. He looks put together as always, wearing simple light clothes, a white shirt tucked into tan pants, an unbuttoned collared shirt on top.

“Is everyone here a House member?” You ask, finally sober enough to start learning some things.

“Yes, I thought it was obvious. It’s nothing official. Just a get-together after our quarterly meeting, something for our investors.”

Right, never did you just have a ‘get-together’ like this. It's annoying how out of touch they are.

You see the familiar faces of his friends sitting in a secluded area. Before you and Yoongi get within earshot he grabs your arm.

“If Taehyung and Jungkook try to touch you again, let me know, will you?”

Wait, Jungkook is RM? What? No way, that doesn’t make any sense. He can’t be, he was downstairs when you first met RM. But why does Yoongi think you fucked him? Jungkook is not RM. Though, you remember how he never spoke to you.

His grip on you tightens when you don’t answer, “Y/n…”

“Okay, okay.”

---

Jungkook watches you and Yoongi whispering to one another. You look flustered when Yoongi places a soft kiss on your cheek before breaking away.

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his temples to take the tension away. When he looks up again, Yoongi and you are walking towards the group, your eyes fixated on...him? Jungkook breaks eye contact and looks back at you...and you’re still staring at him. He keeps eye contact with you, face going redder and redder.

He watches as you greet his friends, eyes glancing his way too frequently to call it a coincidence. What the fuck did Yoongi tell you to make you look at him like he grew three heads?

---

“I’ll be right back.” Yoongi makes his way to the far end of the party where Seokjin is talking to another man. You watch as Yoongi embraces the stranger, it’s one of the few times you’ve seen Yoongi smile, not a self satisfied smirk or a threatening grin, but a genuine smile showing off his gums that make the intimidating man look actually cute. The stranger gives him a dimpled smile in return.

“Who’s that with Seokjin?” you ask Jimin.

He looks over to where you're pointing, Jimin's expression full of mirth, “That’s Namjoon, looks like he made it to the party after all.”

“Oh.”

Jimin pulls on your arm, turning you to him, “Let’s go swimming!”

“Oh, but I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“That’s okay, you can go in your underwear,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, making you giggle.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” Jimin whines as you get up, and you promise him it will only take a minute. You know you’d never get a chance to talk to Jungkook with Yoongi by your side, the two of them seem to have an odd tension between them. But now that Yoongi is distracted with Seokjin and Namjoon, it’s the perfect opportunity.

“Er hello?”

Jungkook’s wide doe eyes looks up at you. “Hello...”

Okay, he definitely doesn’t sound like RM. “Hi, I didn’t get to talk to you last night. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Oh, hi.”

“...hi.”

This is painfully awkward. You study his frame...he is built. The tank top he’s wearing shows off his broad shoulders and muscular tattooed arms, he looks strong like how you imagine RM. Maybe if you kiss him...

Jungkook watches as you peer over his back. “Dahlia…”

“Hmm? Oh, just call me y/n.” you insist, the alias making you feel self-conscious.

“I missed talking to you...so much.”

“We talked?” Is he really RM? No, it doesn’t feel like him at all.

Jungkook bites his lower lip. His front teeth pressing into his round lips makes him look cute, you think, like a scared rabbit.

“Yes, we used to talk a lot, before...” he bites back the words so he doesn’t make you uncomfortable. “My username is..” Ugh, Jungkook can’t believe he’s saying this to you out loud, why did he have to choose such a dumb username? “PlayboyJK.”

“Oh, oh! I remember you!” You remember your conversations with him. He was a good tipper, a bit unconventional in his requests, but he was always one of the first viewers to your stream.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you would watch me.”

“Why?”

“You’re just so...handsome? I’m just surprised, I guess!”

Jungkook’s ears go red at the compliment. You’re so perfect, you’re a goddess. He’d watch you all day every day, he’d watch you sleep. How could you think he wouldn’t want to watch you?

“I think you’re so beautiful, I like you a lot.”

“T-Thank you,”

“Are you going to start streaming again?

“Ha no no. I put all that behind me. Well, I thought I did,” you say after noticing Jungkook’s confused expression. “Um, it’s a long story.”

“Oh, you don’t have to join again. I could, um, pay you directly.”

“You’d pay me? For what?” you laugh, but you're curious to hear his answer.

“For anything, I’d pay you...just be with me.” you look into Jungkook’s wide eyes, so determined. Maybe if Yoongi had asked you this way, you would have considered it.

“I-HEY!” You squeal as Hoseok lifts you out of your seat. Jungkook gives Jimin a look of dismay as he pulls the younger man to his feet too.

Somehow you ended up in the pool with your dress still on. The sheer fabric doing little to hide the lingerie underneath for all the men to see.

---

The sun has already left the horizon while you sit on the deck of Yoongi’s yacht, drying off your body from the day's watery fun. You listen to the waves hit the walls of his boat as it sloshes around in the water, the rhythm like a whispering melody. The twilight casts everything in blue, the smell of salt and fresh air along with sound of the sea's waves is just so relaxing. What you wouldn't give to experience this all the time.

“Come back with me.” Yoongi's hushed voice breaks your trance.

“And be what, your personal servant?" you scoff, "I don’t think so.”

"What about those girls at the party? You could be like them, always having fun, the center of attention."

You bite your lip. "I don't want that." You wonder if Yoongi will believe you when you don't even believe yourself.

"Or I could just give you all my attention." He gets closer to you. "All this could be your life."

"Maybe I like my life-"

Yoongi laughs at you, earning himself a glare.

"Or I could just keep you here." He smirks down at you.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t dare me.”

You stop glaring at him, turning your head away. You watch the lights on the mansion turn on as the night settles in.

“Do you really want to go back to that boring job?” You roll your eyes at his words. “Don’t you want more? To have fun? I’ll give you everything you want."

"I don’t think you could give me everything."

"Just try. You can always go back, I’m sure that manager friend of yours would rehire you."

You sigh, breathing in deep the salty air.

“I would have to put in my two weeks...”

---

Hobi’s scene was fun to write, I haven’t been to parties or dancing in so long I was like what the hell happens again? Now I wanna dance! Reader who said Yoongi will throw her into the sea last chapter you made me laugh so hard I almost considered making him do that lol. I guess there’s still some time to piss him off enough! Do you believe Yoongi? What do you think (or want) to happen next? <3

877 notes · View notes

9tzuyu · 2 years

Text

stay.

note: normally i try not to get too personal with authors notes, but #lolz feeling a little silly and goofy ig

i really debated posting this because all it is - is a huge vent/dump fic. i don't expect anyone to read this or for it to really go anywhere and that's fine with me. i'm actually a little embarrassed? i guess you could say? i don't know. a lot of issues are coming up revolving around my ed so i just had to get it out.

+ i do promise to try and work on requests and lighter stuff. i still cant afford a new computer so im doing everything from my phone. it'll take some time, i'm sorry about that. i'll try my best to get requests out as soon as i can.

warnings: talks about anorexia/eating disorders. if you decide to read this i strongly advise you to take a moment beforehand because i do go pretty in depth at some points. i dont want to trigger anyone or anything, so the warning is here.

**please note that this is heavy thought based at first before it moves onto dialogue.

**and remember this is just a vent/comfort fic i originally wrote for myself, so if it’s not as good as any of my other fics you guys like i’m sorry.

ALSO SORRY TO KILL THE HALLOWEEN SPIRIT HELP

++ please be safe tonight

ty moli for proofreading i love u <3

it was impossible to understand why such an awful thing could be glamorized

you were only ten when you first stumbled across the sites. sacred rules could be found plastered all over the home pages in cute fonts to distract from how twisted the demands were. lists of diets and calorie counting apps were always linked on the side, along with pages full of videos pertaining to weight loss.

even at a young age, you knew it was obviously all wrong, that the people running these blogs had to be sick themselves. but that didn’t stop you from continuing your exploration of the community. once you started you couldn’t stop.

by the time you were twelve, you counted on laxatives and self-induced vomiting to ease your insecurities. it worked for a while, but then it wasn’t enough. you had to do more, be better than the person you were a few months prior.

at thirteen, you joined group chats and ran your own little blog tied to those who could relate. the praise for losing weight easily became your biggest motivator. because if you were the smallest, you were the best. within a few years, you’d been perfectly trained into thinking that less was good, and that becoming more was the worst thing you could ever be.

you were taught that losing hair and bruises on your skin were the things you wanted. if you didn’t have those, then you were hopeless, not enough. others in the community told you to look up to those cliche, horribly written characters with eating disorders. no matter how many stereotypes and stigmas they gave off, those characters would always be praised some way or another. you weren’t shocked to say that reading winter girls did you no favors at all.

the next few years were on and off between misery and glimpses of happiness. it was never ending. nonetheless, you ignored what every therapist told you and remained firm on the belief that your body was different from the rest. your body wouldn’t go too far like the others because you were strong. you’d come so far already, why would you stop now?

you denied your diagnosis of anorexia because nothing was wrong. you weren’t in a hospital bed dying of heart failure. why were you supposed to believe what you were doing wasn’t right when nothing serious has gone wrong? that was your point, although you knew somewhere in your mind it wasn’t normal to cry over a turkey sandwich or panic at the thought of even smelling food.

so you stayed true to your routine of hiding food, packing on layers of concealer, and lying straight through your teeth when asked if you’d stuck to your meal plan.

it never lasted long though because despite your best efforts, your body would eventually give away the truth on its own. weigh-ins became impossible to trick, your extra small clothes hung two sizes too big over your body. anyone with eyes could see that you’d been less than truthful the entire time.

as you got older, you found that some years were better than others. your body could be healthy and you found yourself genuinely enjoying those around you. friends and family said you were more fun to be around. during those times they didn’t have to worry so much, they could laugh at lame jokes you’d tell without thinking it might be the last one they’d ever hear.

during those years, your eating disorder was much more quiet. you were able to eat food and not feel as guilty as you would when you were sick. the thoughts were always there; they were just more manageable than before.

but somewhere in your twenties, you found yourself still stuck in the cycle introduced to you at the tender age of ten. you were old enough now to know and believe what you were doing was wrong, but the fear of facing and fighting back against your eating disorder was too scary of a thought for you to handle.

you knew now that when you were younger people brainwashed you into believing smaller was better. they took the lighter side of eating disorders and turned them into goals you’d want to reach.

the people you’d met on pro-anorexia websites romanticized the fuck out of the disease, leading you to believe you’d be beautiful and envied by others as long as you had a gap between your thighs and size zero pants around your waist. you thought someone would’ve wanted you as long as you were frail and dainty (two words commonly misused to describe someone who was actually weak and dying).

it was a mystery to you at sixteen why you were so miserable when you were promised happiness and self-confidence. girls didn’t envy you like you’d been told they would. instead they’d stare at you, weirded out by how freakishly skinny you were. your name was constantly in people’s mouths at school, everyone wondering why you’d ever want to look like that.

friendships didn’t last long either. you wore people out with your constant need to skip out last minute on plans that had been scheduled for over a week. things didn’t make your case any better when you’d snap at your friends for wanting to get something to eat because they were hungry. a few small, petty arguments too many, and they’d be on their way as far from you as they could go.

you’d never felt more alone in your life when even your longest friends started to grow tired of your behavior.

why couldn’t they think about how tired you were of it? you are with yourself 24/7 after all.

those in charge of the sites forgot to mention all the extremes you’d learn to go to when it came to avoiding or getting rid of food. it was more than just sneaking dinner into your dog's mouth. for you, it was hiding sacks of vomit in your closet, throwing them in a large plastic bag the night before trash day. for you it was throwing up in your friend's front yard while they ran inside for a few minutes to get something. for you it was hitting yourself in the stomach for over an hour hoping to replace hunger pain with physical pain against your body.

no one ever mentioned the insane beliefs that tagged along with anorexia. like the ones you had where you thought fast food water had calories in it because it was surrounded by the smell of food, or thinking that shampoo and advil had hidden calories in them that would somehow leak into your body.

you knew how stupid and irrational everything sounded, but those beliefs were so ingrained in your mind it was hard to challenge them.

another unmentioned concern no one cared to bring up was the fact that you’d eventually have to tell people new in your life what you’d struggled with. you told natasha awhile before you started dating her and she didn’t run off or stray away from you. you were grateful for that, but it didn’t make things very much easier for you.

if things were bad, then date nights rarely ever consisted of going out for food. this hardly ever bothered natasha too much, but you could see the occasional falter in her eyes when you told her you’d rather do something else. she’d love to take you out hold your hand as you walked to the ice cream shop after you’d eaten dinner. she’d love to enjoy a glass of wine or two at a nice restaurant with a four course meal, but you couldn’t always give her that.

there had been a few dates ruined by your eating disorder. the worst of which came just a few short months after you’d told her about your issue.

the fair was in town and natasha was over the moon about the idea of taking you with her. you weren’t in the best mindset that particular day though. the thought of being around fried, greasy food was enough to make your stomach churn, but you saw how happy she was and didn’t want to ruin her the surprise she had for you.

half way through the night you had a panic attack, cutting the date short. words couldn’t even begin to describe how guilty you felt. natasha drove you back to hers, silence filling the air after you apologized profusely. she spent the night watching over you, making sure you didn’t do anything because she knew how angry you were with yourself.

dates like those came few and far between, especially through the years you weren’t struggling as badly.

you couldn’t say the same for now though.

you tapped your feet against the tile flooring as you sat in the lobby of your doctor's office. natasha sat next to you, hand clasped tightly over yours. she was worried. beyond worried, really.

like many times before in the previous years, you’d managed to hide your relapse quite well from others. the only reason natasha knew now was because you’d passed out on the job. you’d woken up in the hospital to her setting a glass of water on the table next to your bed.

you argued about it for three days before finally agreeing to go to the doctor.

truth be told, natasha was probably more worried about it than you were. the only thing occupying your mind was the fear of having to gain weight again, but also the chance that you might lose natasha if you didn’t get it together this time.

you weren’t a kid anymore. you knew very well she had the right to leave if she wanted to. you also knew the bind you were putting her in. if she left, natasha would run the risk of worsening your situation and in a month's time she might not ever see you again. but if she stayed, then she’d only be screwing herself over by destroying her own mental health.

neither one of those options were ones you liked.

“y/n?”

you looked up to see a nurse standing in the doorway of the lobby. natasha gripped your hand as you stood up and you nodded for her as an okay to follow you. stepping on the scale was the worst part, especially since the nurse had no idea of your current situation and decided to allow you to look at the number in front of you. natasha was about to say something, but you’d already seen what the scale said, anyway.

she did, however, grimace at the sight of how skinny your arm was when you took off your jacket for a blood pressure check. just like the rest of your body it was too thin.

“temperature and weight are low-”

you are slowly dying, was the translation.

“-but your blood pressure is just above where it should be.” she left the room after jotting down the reason for your visit, telling you that your doctor would be in shortly.

you spent the next fifteen minutes waiting in an uncomfortable silence, watching as natasha fiddled with the ring on her index finger.

“it’ll be okay, nat.”

“we’ll see what the doctor says.”

“i’m sorry.” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “i know you are.”

her reply didn’t help the matter, only making you feel more guilty by the second. guilt you didn’t have room to feel when you were the one doing this to yourself.

a light knock on the door made noise and your doctor walked in, a smile on her face like the previous times you’d been in her office.

“hello dr. hill.”

“y/n,” she greeted.

the doctor flicked through your files on her computer before she addressed you herself.

“want to tell me in your own words what happened?”

you shrugged, “hit another relapse. passed out at work. argued with my girlfriend over whether or not i should be here.”

she hummed, taking your hands in her own, examining how blue your fingernails had turned. “a lot less pink from the last time i saw you.”

her stethoscope met your spine, and you inhaled, exhaling as she moved it around the back of your body.

“lungs sound fine.” you waited patiently until she finished listening to your chest. “your heartbeat isn’t where i’d like it to be, but seeing as you’re a little over twenty pounds underweight, it’s exactly where i’d expect it to be.”

dr. hill paused, jotting down a few notes on her clipboard. “i strongly recommend hospitalization.” deal breaker. you shook your head instantly, instantly regretting making the appointment.

natasha swallowed back a sob full of anger and frustration. “why not?”

“i just can’t, alright? it’s not even that bad.” you mumbled.

dr. hill stepped out into the hallway, giving you and natasha space to talk.

“did you not hear her? jesus christ it’s like talking to a brick wall with you.” she paced around the room, emotions too high for her to think properly before speaking.

“well then leave, natasha. i don’t care anymore.”

“i don’t want to! that’s the last thing i ever want to do to you. but god, why can’t you just fucking eat?”

she couldn’t stop the words from slipping from her mouth. her heart broke when she saw the look on your face.

“and why can’t you understand it’s not always about that?” you whispered to the ground.

“i know. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to say that. but please, we can do this together. i’ll there every step of the way, you just have to want it for yourself.” she pleaded, eyes watery with tear tracks tracing the edge of her jaw.

“i just want to go home. can we just go home, please?”

. . .

the smell of natasha’s dinner aired throughout the kitchen. you watched as she filled her plate with a variety of things. it looked good — good enough to eat — you couldn’t lie about that.

natasha hadn’t spoken a word to you since the appointment earlier in the day, too upset to even think about it.

you were conflicted about everything.

literally everything.

but seeing natasha sitting alone, face propped up resting against her arm, flipped something inside of you.

you could almost hear her voice telling you to try, just try, that’s all she wanted from you. the both of you knew you’d end up dead if you didn’t. and you didn’t really want that, no matter how many times you wished it would happen.

so you went to grab your own plate, filling as much as you thought you were comfortable with and sat next to nat. this was the first time you’d done this in months.

you inhaled, but made no move to take a bite.

your thoughts had never been this loud before. it was bickering back and forth, nonstop.

you wont be good anymore if you eat that.

– yes i will.

you’re disgusting.

– i’m just hungry.

it’ll go away.

– i just want to eat. it’s just food. nothing more.

you know you can’t do that. you’re bad, horrible, the worst person in the world. so be good.

“damnit!” you slammed your fork down, startling natasha.

breathe.

“you’ve got this.” natasha’s soft voice came from beside you and her hand clasped into yours. “how’s this? i can talk about something, anything you’d like to take your mind off of this.”

you cleared your throat with a small nod, “it’s almost halloween.”

“it is. do you want to do anything this year?”

“can we dress up and give away candy to the kids? and can we stay up and watch horror movies?” natasha giggled, “we sure can.”

she noticed how your fork began to circle around the food, pushing and shoving it around.

“can you take another bite?”

no.

don’t.

the metal hit your tongue, food leaving the fork and into your mouth.

“do you have any ideas as to what you would like to dress up as?”

“mmm. well i think we should definitely go as edward and bella from twilight.” you replied sarcastically.

“i love you, but there’s no way in hell you’ll get me to dress up as a sparkly vampire.”

her thumb rubbed the top of your knuckles. “another bite please. you’re almost there.”

your lip trembled and you could feel the lump in your throat start to form. you felt so stupid and humiliated that natasha had to do this for you.

with a shaky breath, you exhaled, pushing yourself once more.

“i think we should go as gay ken and barbie.” your lip twitched into a smile. “and who would you be?”

“well ken of course,” she confirmed.

“what it i wanted to be ken?”

“and what if i wanted to just wear a cat's ear headband with a black turtleneck and pants and call it a costume?”

“if you want to, we can.” the redhead smiled, shaking her head. “we can be anything your little heart desires. now, one last bite?”

and one last bite it was.

you liked that natasha didn’t clap and cheer when you finished your plate. too many times you’d been told “i’m so, so proud of you!” or “i can’t believe you actually finished!”, it was annoying. those types of things always made you feel like a child who couldn’t do anything to begin with.

instead, natasha went with a gentle “i knew you could do it” and went to put the dish in the sink. it felt nice to have someone really believe in you.

“c’mon, we can get ahead on our horror movie watching a little early.”

natasha went to grab your hand, leading you into the livingroom and onto the couch. you tensed when her arm wrapped around your body.

gross. disgusting. she shouldn’t touch you.

“hey, where’d you go just now?”

“hm? nowhere. i’m here.” she knew you were lying, but decided not to push.

natasha’s hand moved from your side up to your head, scrunching her fingers together to scrape her nails against your scalp.

not good. tainted. dirty. wrong.

“what movie would you like to watch?” she clicked the remote and scrolled through a series of horror movies.

ruined.

“bride of chucky?” when she didn’t receive a reply she pressed play anyway, knowing it was one of your favorites.

natasha tried her best to keep you as distracted as possible. she went from letting you play with her hair and rings to asking questions about the movie, despite already knowing the answers.

“we should go as chucky and tiffany. don’t you think? i’ve already got the red hair.”

why would you do that?

“yeah, that’d be fun.” your voice cracked, causing natasha’s previous hand movements to come to a halt.

“is there anything i can do to help you right now?”

“i just don’t want to be here right now.” natasha’s eyes widened, and you quickly went to clarify what you meant. “no- no- not like that! not like that at all. i just… i don’t know, i feel stupid.”

“why?”

“we have a bathroom. i just ate.” not a second later and natasha put the pieces together.

“oh.”

you nodded, “it’s stu-”

“it’s not stupid. it’s triggering.”

natasha moved to get off the couch, disappearing out of your sight. you didn’t have the energy to try and see what she was doing, so you stayed put.

“let’s go for a drive. i know a spot you might like. it’s quiet, away from the city. we can just talk or listen to music. we could also just sit in silence if you want, i don’t mind. whatever it takes until you feel ready to come back.”

you didn’t bother trying to tell her that she didn’t have to do this because she wouldn’t listen anyway. natasha’s stubbornness was honestly one of the few things that’s saved you.

“nirvana? stevie nicks? what are you in the mood for?” natasha asked you softly, thumb tapping her screen as she scrolled through her spotify playlists.

“will you play kurt’s version of the man who sold the world, please?”

“of course. and you know you’re always welcome to change the song. i put it on shuffle though.”

the ride there was more relaxing than you thought it would be. your mind and body were too focused on the lyrics of the song and fiddling with natasha’s free hand. the thoughts were still there, just not as loud as before.

soon enough, you and natasha both laid flat against the back of her car staring up at the moon. it was still. no noise could be heard apart from the sound of crickets a few feet away.

you had room to think, room to breathe.

you thought about what some of your friends were doing right now. you’d seen pictures on instagram of them representing their college, a couple of party posts, and the occasional travel selfie.

those were all the things you wanted to do, but couldn’t. it was easy to let yourself feel jealous. sure, you were more than grateful to have natasha, but there’s nothing fun about being in a relationship with someone so self-destructive. there was no doubt natasha loved you, but it’s hard to love someone who doesn’t want to be loved; or at least acts like they don’t.

so the choice was once again up to you. what was more important? spending days wasting away over something you’ll never reach? or living a new life, one that could be exciting, outside of your eating disorder?

“what’s on your mind?” natasha questioned, turning her head to the side to get a better view of your face. your cheeks were more hallow than she remembered and it made her stomach turn.

you hummed, “i was so caught up in my own pain i didn’t realize how much i was hurting everyone else around me. this race to be perfect; look where it got me.”

natasha didn’t know what the right thing to say was. your statement wasn’t necessarily wrong, so she couldn’t argue against it.

“i used to tell myself that my eating disorder never took anything from me. everyone always had something, whether it be a sport, or theater, or dance. i didn’t have that. and then i realized that’s exactly what my eating disorder took away from me. i haven’t done anything in the past decade except go through the motion. every day up until now i’ve lived to obey my eating disorder.”

there was pause, another inhale and another exhale.

“you could say i have someone; my family or friends, but after awhile they get tired. they stop trying and asking. they stop caring. a few years down the road and now i have a strained relationship with everyone i used to be close with. i guess it made it easier to accept what would inevitably happen to me.”

you turned to face her, a shaky breath leaving your mouth. “i don’t want to die, nat.”

the redhead had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. she couldn’t imagine a life without you, she didn’t want to imagine it.

“had i known when i was a kid that this would be my life i would’ve never continued on like this.”

“you still have time, you can still get better.” she reasoned.

“i know, it’s just hard.”

“you’re in the fight for your life, it won’t ever be easy.” natasha affirmed. “but i know you can do this.”

“we’ll see.”

. . .

*gasp* an eating disorder fic that doesn’t revolve around the fear of getting fat? v tired of that stereotype pleek not everyone with an ed is like that.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #tw: eating disorder

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dewykth · 4 years

Text

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle and @dewykth collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj word count. 7.5k+ warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳 i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter.

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head.

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry.

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel.

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation.

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

��Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go? Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #ficswithluv #btsguild #btsgoldnet #cypherwritersnet #namjoon x reader #namjoon angst #kim namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x you #bts x reader #namjoon fanfic

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ziracona · 4 years

Note

so can u tell us a little about ur characterization of Lisa?? What's she like inside and outside of trials? Does she have a lot of lucidity, what were her relationships with others like, would she ever get better, do you think? ( im SAD.) Just. What's she like!! Also, same for Sally? Oh! And I'm rly enjoying two songs by Meg Myers which maybe you'll like? Running up that hill (Cover) and Desire. Maybe check em out? :3 - Sleepy

Sure!

My Lisa is from a bit before the archives for her placed her (early 1970s), because I wrote ILM back when there was no date given for many killers or survivors, so I just hoped they were historically accurate with the things they did mention & went through a fairly exhaustive list of drained swamps in the Southern US & paddleboat makes & placed her according to that data (it’s been a bit so I don’t remember the exact date without looking up my notes) in the 1920s-1930s, I believe? And in her early 20s, since she’s described as a girl & young woman, which DbD usually does only for characters in their early 20s. (Which I’d still assume is her age, bc even though her archives, if you go by them, have her in her teens, they’re not connected to the events of her disappearance/definitely happened before them.)

In trials, Lisa has like 0 lucidity. I talk about this some in chapter notes, so I’ll try to give a quick overview instead but sry if I restart myself. She’s so starved that any time she sees a living being, she is just completely overcome with hunger and can’t do anything but operate on it. Very scary. Feral. Like being attacked by a starving animal. She’s super out of it, and is completely wild and violent and has no control, only the need to eat. Outside of trials, if no one is around, she’s lucid again, but will remember trials and what she did to people, and spends that time in horror and despair. She’s tried to kill herself before, because the last thing she ever wanted was to become the thing she swore vengeance on (the Entity’s a real cruel motherfucker. Did the same to Rin, to Philip, to everyone it could. Likes to really twist decent people into what they would most despair to be), but in the realm, she’s stuck as it. She’s not really aware for trials, but remembers them with decent clarity, and is in constant agony over what she’s done. Unfortunately, suicide does not take in the realm, and every one of her attempts failed, just like her attempts to maim or tie herself up so she wouldn’t be able to hurt people did. She’s horribly alone and despairing, and also in physical agony. She’s at the worst end of what a human can be at as far as emaciation and starvation while still being alive goes, and that’s physically awful. It fucks up your brain chemistry too, and everything is just really fucking miserable all the time. It hurts to move, it hurts to breathe, your breath smells tastes like rotten fruit but in a way that’s so much worth than that can sound. She’s so hungry, her addons are things like dragonfly wings consumed to give her extra stamina. That’s the kind of bare sliver of relief she ever gets. God, poor Lisa’s life is hell. She’s completely heartbroken and isolated and almost dead. As far as relationships go, she didn’t have any for a long time. No one can really interact with her, because she goes feral at the sight of food. She’s kinda utterly alone. But briefly, when Alex, Philip, Vigo, Benedict, and Sally were a group, she kind of got stumbled into, and after a kind of nasty first encounter, was able to regain lucidity around other people, and had a truly sweet and memorable and invaluable bit of time with love and friends and other people. She was kind of in love with Sally, who did her hair for her and was really kind to her, and Sally liked her too. They were close. Lisa was close with all of them. But when things ended the way they did, the Entity took that away. Lisa remembers it, but she could never get them or it back, and was cast aside and left behind until the end of ILM, when she finally got peace and found happiness in finally getting to be at rest in the arms of a friend. Overal, she’s a fairly young and wide-eyed, bright, cautious, fun and sweet girl by nature, now massively traumatized and hopeless and broken, but still with a truly incredible amount of that kind nature retained. She would have really loved reading fantasy novels aloud and exploring the worlds of lore and history, travelling, seeing other cultures and geographic features and animals. Enjoys fashion too, and has a heart for designing and making cool, personal and cultural and symbolic tied designs, and would have been both great at that and loved it if she’d lived long enough. (Shoutout to @artianaiolanthe who inspired the fashion take & it is so suited to her I love it). A little shy, but an extrovert at heart under it, just a nervous one. Loved people. Liked climbing trees and fording brooks and baking bread and throwing rocks and baseballs to knock a target out of a tree and win a prize at little town fairs. Didn’t get the length or quality of life she was owed, and it’s just not fair or okay at all. Liked to watch the stars.

As far as getting better goes, mentally, totally. If they could get her out of the realm or break the Entity’s connection, she’d immediately stop killing. She has never done it of her own free will. She’s a sweet small town kid who was just trying to live her life. As far as physically goes though, Lisa is in one of the worst possible spots. Unlike say Amanda, who was on death’s door but healed by the Entity, or the Legion, who weren’t injured at all, Lisa was on death’s door and like Adiris, did not get healed. Just preserved in that near-death state and forced to work in it. Honestly, it’s possible she could survive long enough to get to a hospital and be saved, but at best, she’d probably live another year. When you starve, your body begins to catabolize/eat your own tissue to save itself, starting with fat, and ending with muscles and organs, which, when it reaches the heart, kills you. Lisa was so close to dead, the organ damage was probably awful, and would leave her with complications that would take her very young. The most likely thing, since she was saved literally seconds before death, would be for her to step outside the realm and immediately die. However, it’s possible she got lucky on body damage and could be saved—kinda up to interpretation—and if say, she was around for Quentin’s Vigil going healing batshit, and got some organs repaired that way, she’d have a real shot. (I also am sad. Lisa was actually the only determinate character in ILM to me/that I wasn’t sure the ending for, and while I am very happy with what ended up being her closure, I also would like to see her live for even more love and peace TuT. Lol, if I ever end up doing my goddamn four fate route fics like I’ve joked now a truly dangerous number of times about doing [>.> me @ me] then maybe she will get a variety of lives in the end). I’m glad you wanted to know! I really like and pity her. This poor kid really did nothing wrong, much like Rin, and just got eternally tortured for asking for help and justice against the monsters who took her life so violently. Fuck Brittany. (Read: the Entity.)

Ahhhh Sally. My sweet, sweet girl. Uhhh, not sure which of the Lisa questions you meant for her too, so I’ll try to speed-answer them all? Sally’s intelligent and understanding and thoughtful, patient, polite, almost elegant despite how impoverished she spent most of her life—she just tries to act like a lady and treat people with as much respect and esteem as she can (unless they suck lol). She’s also very mentally damaged and not there though, and has extremely unstable mood swings, especially into despair. Her relationships with the other killers were limited. She talked to & was on polite terms with any who would talk to her and not be condescending or a dick so openly she’d pick up on it (so like, on cordial terms with Evan, Herman, Caleb if she’d been there that long, but not like, Kenneth or Freddy or someone who wouldn’t bother to put up an act). But mostly, after figuring out she wasn’t really of any use to them, they quit communicating with her. Sally has been extremely isolated since shortly after being taken. She believes that the survivors are innocent and suffering and knows that they don’t deserve the hunt, but has no way to stop the whole system, and has been convinced by the Entity that if she does a good job and earns moris, the ones she strangles to death get to stay dead instead of coming back after death to suffer endlessly again, so she works very dedicatedly and slowly trying to earn kills to save them. It took her physical eyes when it got her and lets her see through it’s powers, and uses that to randomize what survivors look like in her memory so she doesn’t catch wise it’s the same people over and over and she’s not saving them at all. It’s extremely tragic. God it’s one of the most cruel Entity tricks, which is saying a lot. Poor gentle woman is Sisyphus pushing a boulder up a hill day after day year after year and she doesn’t even know how hopeless and meaningless it all is. : (

When the Vigo-Philip-Alex-Benedict team was going, though, she met and attacked, then was convinced to instead befriend them, and quickly became very attached and well liked by them. Met Lisa while with the group, and became extremely fond of her and loving towards her and was truly, truly happy for a brief period of time. Still remembers her, even as lost as all her memories are. Not her name, but what she looked like to Sally, and how her hair felt, and how nice it was. Sally would have considered everyone in that group a dear friend, and in ILM, Philip most definitely becomes her deepest, closest, and best friend, just like she does to him. She’s a very faithful woman to her soul. Loved her family, loved her husband and mourned him, worked as hard as she could. Cared for her patients, and did her best in that hell until the Entity slowly whittled away at her sanity until it broke her mind and left her convinced the only way to end their pain would be to give them death, and she had to do it to save them. Sally loves little pretty things and neatness and collections. Flowers, bows and ribbons, china and colored glass. She would have treasured gifts like decorative holiday cards and carved animal figures and left them on her mantle or carefully tucked in lovingly organized and decorated books she could open to revisit the memory. Likes dresses and skirts and the way the wind feels. Hopeful and very enduring. Loving. Had a mom heart, and will never really get entirely over the loss of her children, but is strong and kind and will find new love that makes life still worth living in other people. Will remember both kindness and cruelty a long, long time. Loved Quentin from the second he gave her flowers (Dwight: Quentin, why did the entity let you have three moms? Quentin: Because I fucking earned it >:[“ [author’s note: he did. God that poor kid...]). Loved Kate from the day she sat with her in a hospital and held her hand. Is like that. Remembers small kindness and treasures them.

Sally could definitely recover. Not all the way probably, physically or mentally, but by far enough to be complete and happy and realized and who she wants. She never meant to hurt people, so she really just needs some stability, and I think she finds that with her new family. I mean, it is a lot to adjust to. It’s been like nearly 100 years. The Entiry broke her mind, and she’s got some damage that just probably can’t ever be fixed, but a lot can be, with drugs and treatments and therapy and kindness and a good support system, and honestly, the biggest things she needs are people to keep her memories together and herself present, and influences to protect her from being manipulated and controlled now that she’s so suggestible and easy to hurt, and she’s got that. I am 100% certain that while some things—the scatteredness, the ease of slipping into other moods especially deep sadness, the different way of thinking altogether—never leave her, she gets better in the most important ways and is truly happy and quite functional and what she wants to be. While there’s no way (yet anyway lol. Cybernetics that good when?) to give her new eyes since the Entity ripped hers out, and she’s blind now, and can’t be changed, her seeing eye dog does a great job for her, and she’s very happy and adjusts well. She has a lot of friends to be her eyes, and learns to lean into what she can do and has a quite fulfilling and blissful life outside the realm in ILM.

Also: thanks for the recs! I’m going on a run soon, and I’ll add those to my iPod and give ‘em a listen if I can. Hope this answered what you wanted to know! ^u^

#ask #sleepy #in living memory (fic)#in living memory #ilm spoilers #dead by daylight #Lisa Sherwood #Sally Smithson #long post

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pinkykitten · 4 years

Text

The time in Summervale: 1

Warning: none

Specifics: y/n=your name, oc, oc fic, comedy

People: athela (your mother), edward (your father), huxley (cook), ruthy (maid)

Words: 1,438

Summary: In the fictional land of Summervale, 1700, you, the Duchess are made into an arranged marriage.This is the dream of your parents but certainty not the dream of a longing inventor like yourself. You are taught to be a lady but who wants to be a primp and proper lady when you can have fun and be yourself. You need to try to convince your parents this is not what you want or is it? How will it be seeing the Prince of Linwyn? Will you finally change your mind and side with your parents?

Authors Note: this is something newwwwww. ive been wanting to do kinda my own thing for a while so this is not on any fandom this is a story i will be updating with chapters about my characters but in a x reader way if that makes sense so its still gonna use you and such just this is my own story. i got inspiration off of this story “the austrian suitor” by @headoverhiddles, granted i dont know the character or the fandom i just read it cuz another blog reblogged it yet i rlly enjoyed it even tho it is smut and im not usually a smut reader just kinda skip that or whatever either way it was extremely well written and gave me such inspiration like wowowowowow. so i made this piece inspired by that and i hope you guys like it. this is just kinda an opening to the whole thing and to kinda see how it works out so there is not any romance in this but trust me there will be but like i said i want to see how this goes if yall like if u do pls tell me tell me what u think ur thoughts everything i worked rlly hard on this so pls share like reblog do what you gotta do it would me a lot to me. thnx guys <3

“Maybe this piece goes here,” you mumbled to yourself. An action you always did but it was something your mother hated. Sitting atop your bed you concentrated your efforts in inventing a mixer that did its job on its own. Call it a hobby or a dream but inventing was your world. You loved the satisfaction of creating something with your own two hands especially if it helped people. Unfortunately, your parents the Prince and Princess of Summervale did not approve. They called it very unladylike. Your mother, Athela, would scold you about getting messy and dirty and then throw you in the tub like a little child. Your father, Edward, was always forcing you to learn how to seam. His mother used to do it and he wanted to pass it down to you. Those things didn’t excite you, didn’t make you complete. Inventing was something you loved and was always thinking about. As you would look at an apple tree during your morning stroll you would wonder about what inventions would be good for peeling apples whilst your parents bored you with duties as a Duchess.

“Almost done,” you screwed on the last screw to your creation. You had dirt under your nails and they were short and barely ever polished, only for special occasions. Your hair was almost every time how it was meant to be. None of those gels, ties, bows, again only for special occasions. Your mother, Athela, would buy you all these face creams, soaps, masks, but you were content with your scars and bumps, naming them every so often after royals, saying your “face was a castle and there should definitely be Queens and Kings roaming on it.” You were odd and different to others but to yourself you were this boring, normal, royal girl that everyone hated because you were granted everything you could ever want. Life was not that simple though. Sometimes when you have everything handed to you - all the money in the world - it still doesn’t fill up that hollow feeling inside or take away the sadness. It was something to help people cope but it was never the antidote.

“Alright...finished. What do you think Karim?” You hastily got out of bed and sat on the floor presenting your mixer to your pug. One very lovely vacation you took with your family you had learn a bit of Arabic. It was a beautiful language and you had made many friends there. You named your dog Karim meaning generous. Karim was generous, he was the only one who would look at your inventions. “Do you think it will work?” You gave a toothy grin, excited.

Karim grunted as he licked his nose, panting.

“I knew you would like it,” patting his head you jump up ready to show not just your parents but also the cooks. You had a very good feeling about this one. Every time you made an invention you had hope that maybe your parents would change their minds about your future but every occurrence was the same.

“Mother, father! Come look!” You yelled as you sprinted down the stairs not caring if your nightgown would get dirty sweeping across the floors of the castle. “Come quick!”

“What in the heavens is the matter my dear child?” Edward, your father, grumbled seeing you in such a hurry.

“See, father, in the kitchen.”

“In the kitchen?”

You passed by your mother, she tried to catch you but you slipped from her grip. “Young Lady why are you not dressed and groomed properly? You look like a mess.”

“Doesn’t matter, mother in this moment time is of the essence!” You arrived at the kitchen and grabbed a blue glass bowl, plopping it with a loud clank on the counter top.

“What are you doing y/n?” The cook asked. “You almost broke me bowl!” He was a plump older man, very short. His hair was salt and pepper and his face was as white as flour yet his cheeks were always red.

“Forgive me Huxley I just need to know. Need to see and dive deep into the unknown.” You opened up a recipe card that Huxley wrote down for your favorite cake. Vanilla cake, you were a simple girl. “Alright I need eggs and flour and oh yes milk! Almost forgot about the milk!” You were talking to yourself again as you ran around the kitchen like a mad woman.

“Is this another one of your inventions?” Huxley crossed his arms knowing about your obsession.

“Yes but my dear good old Huxley-”

“Old?” He lifted his brow.

“No time to explain, I have a tingling within me. This one is going to be it, I know it. Mother and father will finally see and believe in me.” You poured all the ingredients in the bowl. Your parents walked in, perplexed.

“Hello everyone. Today I show you something I have been working on the for the past week. I am very proud of myself but any who let me show you my newest invention-”

“Oh here we go again?” Athela rolled her eyes.

“The mixer!” You lifted it high in the air. “This mixer will not only mix greatly and fine it will mix to your acquired speed. Please watch.” You pulled the lever three times and then pushed the big button. The mixer turned on automatically with it squeaking from the gears. “As you can see the mixer is mixing all the ingredients together. No more of the hassle of blistered hands or tired arms, this does it for you! You can even look away and do other chores in the midst.” You turned around and your creation you thought so high about was creating smoke and making an odd sound.

“Um y/n,” Edward said, “is it supposed to do that?”

“Huh,” you turned to it again and all of a sudden the mixer started to go faster in speed. “Oh no.” The mixer then flew high in the air and starting to spin around like a mini airplane.

“Get down!” Huxley shouted and everyone in the room screamed in fear or bent down hiding under tables and items.

“Its alright everyone! Just a little mistake!” You climbed onto the tables trying to fetch the item. “Blasted thing.” You jumped onto the counter and caught it making it stop. Until it started to mix again and it caught a piece of your hair. You screamed loud and tried running away but hit the bowl of cake mix making it hurl in the air on top of your head making you slip from the batter onto your back. The mixer finally stopped. You groaned knowing you were about to hear it from your parents.

Athela stood up with a scowl on her face. “To your room. Now!”

You sat at your vanity disappointed with yourself. You had worked so hard on the mixer and had embarrassed yourself. Athela was standing next to you, glaring. Karim was laying in his bed munching on a treat and your maid Ruthy tended to your hair.

“I cannot believe you chose to do this on a day like today. Of all days!” Your mother was furious. Her gloved hands were held into fists. “You were supposed to be ready!”

“I know. I’m sorry mother.” In the end you always apologized even though you really hadn’t meant it. You hated when your mother was right especially about inventing. You always wanted to prove her wrong but it ended in outright disappointment.

“Look at this hair now.” Athela lifted the piece of hair that was wrapped around the mixer. “Can you save it Ruthy?”

Ruthy bit her lip as she heaved a sigh, “I’m sorry your Royal Highness it is very tangled I must cut it off.”

“Oh my! Are you sure?”

Ruthy nodded.

“Today of all days,” Athela repeated herself. “How will your future husband think of you now?”

“What?” You asked and then all was heard was a snip as Ruthy cut that one lock of hair.

“Make sure you take that disgusting batter out of her hair.” Athela pointed to your scalp.

“Mother what are you talking about?” You stood up throwing your precious now broken mixer onto your desk.

“My dear didn’t you not fall just mere minutes ago in that vanilla goop?”

“Thats not what I meant and you know it. I am asking about what you said about a future husband. What did you mean by that?”

Athela rubbed your shoulders up and down and broke into a huge smile. “My dear you are getting married!”

Tag list: @harrington-lover, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories, @reginalinettis

wanna be tagged in my crap? comment!

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tenshibeth1 · 5 years

Text

Fic Writer Meme

Thanks for the tag, @chierafied ! <3

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

Author Name:

Here and a few other places my author name is Tenshibeth1, which was a username I'd created back in high school some...gosh, ten years ago now? Time flies! But, it was created in part by my group of friends then. I was in the goth group, but they always said I was the nicest and most innocent of the group, like an angel. My nickname in reality is Beth, short from Elizabeth, and I've always been big into Japan, anime, and manga and all, so Tenshi seemed a fitting choice to add onto my name. Tenshi means angel. The one stands for the fact that it was my first author username. Now, Reflection of a Broken Dream (RoaBD) came later in life, when I felt everything I am and was, was broken. It came after my divorce from an abusive and terrible man...he had me believing I was nothing. I could do nothing right, I was a pest to everyone, and my dreams? Get real. I could never make them come true. Writing has always been a balm for me...and even though I believed few would read or like my stuff, I did eventually begin posting stuff again. To my shock, people liked what I wrote...they wrote me such kind words and pleas for continuation. Everyone who liked and commented on the stories gave me hope again, and confidence in myself. So thank you to everyone who read and commented! I'm where I am now because of you all. ,^.^,

Fandoms You Write For:

SessKag and SessOC from Inuyasha, KuraKag and HieiKag from Yu Yu Hakusho and Inuyasha, KuraOC from Yu Yu Hakusho (although I'm not sure if I've posted any...), and, a long while back, I used to post ShinoHina from Naruto. I also wrote some KakaHina, GaaraHina, SasuHina, and ItaHina from Naruto...I don't know if I ever posted any...but I ship it.

Where You Post:

Mainly on here and on Dokuga. I once posted on Spark a long time ago...and I was posting on FFnet, but something went awry when I tried to get the app...and now I can no longer sign in to my account and no staff members will help me, so I'll probably make another account. I also have an AO3, which I need to update. ><

Most Popular Multichapter:

Here, it looks like the SessKag Alpha is in the lead with 104 hits. With Dokuga...holy crap, it's Cursed with over 12k reads! O.O On FFnet it's Overprotective, which is a HieiKag...and it looks like it's the favorite on AO3, too! Oh, wow. I need to go back and write on so many stories...T.T

Favorite Story:

Ahh...most of them hold a special place in my heart...but there are a few that are a little more...sentimental than others. Cursed, for example, would be one of the top ones. I began writing it when I was living with my ex-husband. It is one of the few reasons I stayed sane...and the original version of that fic was warped...just like my mind at the time. If anyone's curious, I'll tell that story later...but know that it will end well. Rising From the Ashes is going to be a good story if I can ever finish it. It's a bubbling of hope from the darkest recesses of depression...something I suffer and struggle with everyday and have to rise from. Very Merry Christmas With You is going to be a healing fic, Sesshoumaru helping Kagome heal from a trauma that happened to her as a child. They have the relationship I desire most. Same with Alpha, but it's a more recent trauma that reminds me much of my past marriage. The Unexpected, a ShinoHina, was a much earlier echo of this, with an abusive relationship in the making with her arranged betrothed in the Snow. And I just have a special place for Overprotective and All That is Meant To Be because...I do. They were works when I wasn't as confident as I am now, and I really loved and worked on the stories vigilantly outside of what I posted. I kept writing and re-writing to see which directions I wanted to go with them...I need to re-write them both with more detail and post them...

Story You Were Most Nervous to Post:

That's a tie between Arranged Marriage, a ShinoHina, and Cursed, a SessKag. Arranged Marriage was the first real fic I worked on that I posted after several years and the abuse I went through. The anxiety I suffered to post it was...unbelievable. I thought I might pass out. I expected people to boo me out of there since it isn't a very liked ship...but, happily, I found that wasn't the case. And Cursed... I was revamping it to be made public after realizing how messed up it was, and how messed up in the head I'd been... So, I was understandably nervous and trying to make it better. Real. Believable. And not the dark hole it once was...

How Do You Pick Titles:

Erm...I'm with Chiera, I pick whatever feels best. Mostly, I try to pick something short and sweet...and easy to remember.

Do You Outline:

Define outline. Haha. I do try to kind of figure out which events I want in the story and roughly figure out the ending...but I don't always do that. On the ones I have more of a feel of, I do. Ones I don't? I pretty much fly by the seat of my pants and go on the journey with my readers. Some, I still have no idea how they're going to end. We'll find out when we get there. XD

Complete Stories:

Ai yai yaiii...roughly eight. The Best Antiques will get a oneshot sequel or two, but...yeah. Not very impressive. I have a bunch of unfinished published works...and about seven hundred more on my computer... >.>;;

The list of completed fics:

FFnet

The Best Antiques

Things That Go 'Thump' In The Night

Butterfly

Waiting for You

Hinata's Favorite Insect

Dokuga

Written in the Stars

Now and Forever

Someone to Protect

In Progress:

I am currently working on The Pact, Alpha, and Cursed actively, with some work-ins on the other SessKags. I want to work on them all more, and get back into some of my KuraKag, HieiKag, and ShinoHina.

Coming Soon:

I just posted The Pact chapter 5! Dancing With Your Ghost, a SessKag one shot that likes to rip my heart out every time I write on it. I Found You, a SessKag one shot exploring alternate realities. Romancing, a SessKag series of Sesshoumaru trying to wordlessly woo Kagome. The Dark Guardian, a SessKag I hope to write for Halloween! An interesting take of Sesshoumaru as the deity of death that I started, like, a year ago and forgot about... And I'm working on a fic called The Child, an eventual KuraKag with a rough start. ...I'm also working on another KuraKag in little bits, it's currently unnamed and will revolve around Genkai's secret love child she didn't even tell Toguro about... Yes, I know I'm working on a lot at once. Because of my medicine change I have days where I struggle to focus on any one thing...so I write a little here and there. And some days I don't get to because work kills me sometimes and I have do things after work for work other days. -shrugs-

Prompts:

I love them and am open to them if anyone wants to suggest or send them. They might even help with what I'm writing. The Dark Guardian was created from a prompt. ^.^

("Unbeknownst to you, Death was watching you from the corner of the hospital room when you were being born. Fascinated by life, it imprinted on you. As the years went by, Death often saw you being bullied at school and couldn't do anything but watch; as taking the lives if your bullies would have been too much of a verdict. However, you have just been kidnapped and Death is pissed.")

Upcoming Story You are Most Excited For:

It's a tie between The Dark Guardian and Romancing! I'm excited to explore the role of Sesshoumaru as something loosely like Hades with Kagome as his Persephone...just in a very different way. (If you follow the telling of the story in which he does not rape her. The one I found, she could read the inscriptions and said it did not explicitly say he raped her, just whisked her to Hell.) But that isn't exactly the way the story is going, just that Kagome is his light in the all-consuming darkness. Romancing...is going to be sweet and funny, with a bit of drama added in. And frustration. Why does she not understand?! XD Poor Sesshy... If I could get my act together, I would work on The Youkai Games...something I've been working on, off and on, for the past ten years or so...

Five Authors:

@bearpluscat

@therebelalchemist

@dreaming-of-the-midnight-sun

And anyone else who wants to try! ^.^

#fic writer meme #pass it on #try it #kinda fun #you get to learn about people

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ladyfl4me · 5 years

Note

A,E,F,G,I,J,K,L,M,N,O,P,Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z ;o

Okay *cracks knuckles* let’s go! F, M, and S have already been taken from this list, so feel free to send in... B, C, D, or H, I guess. Yeehaw. This is really fucking long.

A: How did you come up with the title to [TMWCIFTC]? -- It started, as many things do, as a bad pun. The novel The Spy who Came In from the Cold was a cold-war spy thriller, about a British spy who goes over to East Germany as an apparent defect, except he’s actually there to spread misinformation and fuck shit up. He falls in love, becomes disillusioned with his superiors, and is shot dead over the corpse of his lover after climbing over to the east side of the wall. Needless to say, this is nowhere close to what happens in TMWCIFTC. I chose it early on because of the literal meaning: there’s a moth(man), he’s coming in from the cold WV weather, boom shaka laka, we have a title. Over time, though, it’s evolved into another meaning. Indrid himself is coming in from an isolated, lonely existence: he’s rejoining the family that cut ties with him, he’s in love, he’s warm and safe. The moth sure did come in from the cold, and hopefully he stays that way.

E: If you wrote a sequel to [TMWCIFTC], what would it be about? -- Hm. Considering my entire TAZ fic career is a tangled hairball of sequels and prequels, I kind of have this base covered. At the moment, TCOS - aka The Children of Sylvain, the sequel to TMWCIFTC - is about three things: a Pine Guard road trip race against time and the feds, the Spanish Sylvan Inquisition That Nobody Expected (least of all Jake and Hollis, who have to set aside their differences and past conflicts to save Kepler - and who knows, maybe they’ll fall in love along the way), and Alexandra the Interpreter getting woke to Sylvan politics and doing what she can from the inside to change them. In other words, it’s going to be a massive sequel that is the finale of the Amnesty alternate universe I’ve created. It’s this series’ Endgame. (That reminds me, I need an actual title for this collection of stories I’m writing. The “Tin Cinematic Universe” doesn’t quite have the ring to it that I’d like.)

G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order? -- eh, it kind of depends. It’s like a buffering bar on Youtube videos. I outline what I can until I run out of ideas, then start writing, then add outlines to the end, until the outline is complete and I just have to keep writing.

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)? -- I don’t have one for reading, but for writing, I fucking love structuring chapters around songs. Classical or otherwise, I love music. All my stories play in my head like a movie screen, and I just do my best to describe what I’m seeing in my head with an accompanying score. It’s not so much a guilty pleasure as it is a writing process. Frankly, I don’t think I actually have a guilty pleasure; the act of writing itself is all the happiness I need.

J: Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic]. -- An alternate ending for The Devil Went Down To Georgia would be... interesting. It ended with Boyd-as-Jersey-Devil scaring the pants off some poor broke college kid, who stole his worthless fiddle; then he changed back, and he and Ned went on their merry way to go break into Aubrey’s house and send everything down the drain. If there was one thing that I could change in there, it would be how fast Ned ran. If he ran a little faster, he would have seen the alley; he would have witnessed Boyd turning into the Jersey Devil, or at least turning back into himself; and he’d get a very rude awakening as to what Sylvans are and that his partner (in crime, and everything that mattered) was a fucking cryptid. God, that’d be a fun AU to write. Who knows, I might go do that someday.

K: What’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with? -- At the moment, the only angsty idea that I’m actually conceptualizing is a Hollis/Jake angsty breakup for TSG. (Spoilers, I guess.) I once wrote a very grimdark ending to TMWCIFTC where everyone fell through the ice and drowned. It wasn’t fun. I’ve also mentally killed off each Amnesty protagonist and NPC in various ways, but I never felt comfortable writing them down. I only write angst with a happy ending because those are the kinds of stories I need to hear.

L: How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting? -- 9 times out of 10, I just throw it into the void. I write as much as I can in big chunks, and then kind of hope for the best. TMWCIFTC, for example, is a completely unedited, unbetaed vomit draft. I usually do a quick reread of my oneshots to catch grammar and spelling errors, but other than that I just trust myself that it’s fine.

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you? -- Can I get some kind of resolution for To the Edge of Night? Can I please get some kind of resolution for To the Edge of Night??? I was 14 chapters into that bastard before I a) became a more casual MCU fan and b) discovered TAZ. It was such a niche fic with such a niche structure - LOTR as galactic Asgardian propaganda to cover up Odin’s mistakes - that at some point I lost interest in it. I just saw Endgame though, so now I might get some inspiration for stuff to bastardize.

O: How do you begin a story–with the plot, or the characters? -- Characters. When coming up with character backstories, I can usually find ways to slot their lives together that necessitate a plot. I love character-driven stories, where their actions actually do shit and their words actually mean something, in favor of getting dragged along behind the plot like tin cans behind a car.

P: Are you what George R. R. Martin would call an “architect” or a “gardener”? (How much do you plan in advance, versus letting the story unfold as you go?) -- I’m definitely an architect, but in a really messy way. My friends can attest that I do an insane amount of planning for each story - often in their DMs, sorry about that, Fae, Cro, Indy and Aline 😬 - and all that usually ends up in a stream-of-consciousness rant outline on Google Drive. Knowing where the story is going helps me a lot, but the planning I do is definitely just building flower beds in which to sow seeds. Or building a greenhouse. I plan the bare bones of a story, and things get really wild within it, but it does follow a logical plot structure.

Q: How do you feel about collaborations? -- I have a lot of respect for the people who can successfully pull it off, but idk if i’d ever want to do one myself. I get really possessive of my stories and ideas and like to be the one in charge of their execution. That being said, some collabs have produced amazing stories. I don’t mind reading collab fics, but actually being in a collab grates on me more than it should.

R: Are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence? -- I’m definitely influenced heavily by Neil Gaiman. I read American Gods and Good Omens a lot while I was trying to write TMWCIFTC; not only was it a good brain break, but I was able to pick up a lot of tips on scene pacing, concise yet expressive language, and character interactions. My creative wriitng professors have always told us to read so we know what to steal - not in terms of content, but in execution.

On the fanfic side, @miamaroo is a huge inspiration for me. I’ve been reading Northern Migration a lot recently, and I love how its canon divergence is so worldshaking and so complex, but is still familiar in nostalgic yet terrifying ways. I read it back in October, went, “Huh, I wanna do something that wild. And if miamaroo can do it then I sure as fuck can too,” and I started planning TMWCIFTC during that one month dead zone the McElroys took last year. Northern Migration is one of the best, most coherent, most stunning, and most incredibly written TAZ Balance AUs I’ve ever read, and if I hadn’t read it, I wouldn’t have been inspired to take the fuckall huge plunge into TMWCIFTC.

S: Any fandom tropes you can’t resist? -- Bed sharing and cuddling, hand kissing, wrist kissing, whump, sympathetic villains. Canon divergent AUs are my absolute favorite things to both read and write. Anything that would turn me into Charlie Kelly slamming his finger on a bulletin board screaming, “CAROL,” is a fic I would give my life for.

T: Any fandom tropes you can’t stand? -- Not a fan of a) woobification and b) flat villain characterization, to the point where the story is riding on villain tropes instead of an actual person or plot. Character nuance is always something I look for when I read. I don’t usually get bitter about tropes, though; some stuff, when subverted, works really well. I fully subscribe to don’t like, don’t read, don’t write, which is why I don’t write anything that warrants AO3 content warning tags or an Explicit rating, in favor of focusing on plot. Every author has a reason for what they write and how - be it their level of experience, personal preference, or simply the joy of writing something and getting it out there - and I respect that. Within reason, of course.

U: Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much. --

@miamaroo, for reasons I’ve already discussed. My favorite TAZ Balance author hands down. Read Northern Migration and give it the love it deserves, or I’m replacing all the faucets in your house with silly straws.

@transagentstern. Fae has a bunch of absolutely incredible fics and an amazing grasp on characterization. We come from the same place with AUs, in that canon is but the bare planks on which we put the drywall of our plot an characterization. They structure AUs and character backstories from the ground up in believable and emotionally raw ways. Also they have great music taste. I especially like their interpretation of Indrid in Moth to the Flame; he, like all the other characters in the story, is far from perfect, and his character arc is explored in relatable ways that I love to read.

@keplersheetz. Aline - theneonpineapple on AO3 - researches like a motherfucker and has a wealth of knowledge/experience/viewpoints to draw on, making author-author interactions with her an absolute delight. She’s also doing the lord’s work with rarepairs. Spin a wheel, find a ship, and she’s probably written for it or at least conceptualized it. Reading her character studies and stories of the old Pine Guard - aka Mama’s original crew, before the current PCs joined - is always a delight. I’ve also hashed out a lot of details for The Children of Sylvain, especially for Mr. Boyd Mosche, guilt-wracked Jersey Devil extraordinaire, with her help.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose? -- Not gonna lie, I’m fine with a lot of stuff that’s out there right now. It’s been a hot few months since I’ve actually stopped to read fic, but from what I recall, most of the fics I’ve read have done a good job of keeping things intact.

W: Do you like more general prompts, or more specific ones? -- The vaguer, the better. With really specific prompts, it usually feels as if the story’s been written for me already; with vague, general prompts, I have more agency to explore my own ideas. Some accompanying detail is usually nice, though. For example, the coffee shop/college/flower shop AUs that @transagentstern wrote are my ideal prompt for drabbles: premise, a little bit of open-ended detail, clear explanation of what’s going to happen while leaving the rest up to the imagination. Good stuff. If it’s for a long-form piece, though, I prefer full agency, or even just some time to lie facedown in the dirt and wait for an idea to strike me.

X: A character you enjoy making suffer. -- Yes.

Y: A character you want to protect. -- Tim.

Z: Major character death–do you ever write/read it? Is there a character whose death you can’t tolerate? -- I do read lots of major character death, yeah, though not always for TAZ. There’s something cathartic about seeing a character die, but sometimes it sits wrong with me in ways that I don’t like. As for writing, I’d rather kill a character for a reason rather than for shock value/for the Feels, though said Feels can accompany the reason.

#anon please dm me so i know who u are #please #i'm begging you #i'm in hell #asks #anon #ask game

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arofili · 5 years

Note

1, 3, 10, 13, 15, 18, 19, 27, 28, 30? only if u want tho

river OF COURSE i want to, thank youuuu

links are all bolded so you can find them easily and go READ ALL THE AMAZING FICS LINKED! (including mine!)

1. favorite fic you wrote this year

Not to toot my own horn so much, but...I really like all the fics I wrote this year!! I'm gonna split it into two categories :)

For longer fics: Maybe it's because that's where my head is right now, but "Roads Go On" takes the cake here! This fic is just so fun, and I see connections to it everywhere on tumblr, which is delightful.

For oneshots: Oof, this is hard, considering oneshots are the main thing I write... In the end I'm tied between two of them, and neither are Tolkien! I'm very proud of my Barricade Day 2018 fic, "A Witch's Gift" - I pretty much only write one Les Mis fic a year, even though Les Mis means a lot to me, and I think I achieved what I was going for and more with this fic. Also, I just love Musichetta!

The other one is frankly a surprise to me because I almost forgot I wrote it this year: "meant to be", a TAZ hurloane fic. That one didn't get a ton of response but I've had that concept in my head literally ever since I first listened to Petals to the Metal, and I'm really happy with how it turned out!

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year

do you know how hard this is to answer?? do you know how little I remember from january 2018?? a whole fucking year ago??

okay, this is 100% cheating, cuz I didn't go back and reread any of my other fics to find That Perfect Line, but I'm just proud of my poetry in "The Lay of Maedhros", another fic that y'all slept on. my dudes, I wrote in Tolkien's Very Own Poetic Style for this!! my favorite scene from this fic is Sauron's conversation with Maedhros.

(Oh, I am also pretty damn pleased with the philosomancy blabbering that goes on in "Gravity" between Gandalf and Fili!)

10. shortest wip of the year

Okay, this fic started out as a oneshot but I couldn't keep it down... I swear i'm working on the final chapter, ok?? I am??

It's "Wedding Blues" my qp!Domadry fic for @buffintruda's birthday that was... uh... 6 months ago.... oops. It's 9.6k, which isn't nothing! But it's shorter than the other two WIPs I've got going, which are both in the 20k range.

13. favorite writing song/artist/album of this year

i legit just listen to my spotify saved albums on repeat all year long with no particular soundtrack for writing... That being said, I've got a "Study Tunes" playlist on spotify that I use (on shuffle) for studying and sometimes writing! it's almost entirely instrumental with a focus on piano, and that really helps me get into The Zone while working!

15. something you learned this year

i swear i'm going to write a longer post on this later, but COMMENTING IS CREATING. this is something i've always believed, but i've been fleshing out the concept in my head and i believe it even more now.

Comments DIRECTLY influence the creation of more fic, and not only that, they are an integral part of the fic itself! Every time you or I leave a comment on a fic, you are creating fandom!

18. current number of wips

I try to keep myself to 2 long fics at a time, with oneshots here and there, but right now i'm at 3! "Roads Go On" + "Wedding Blues" i've already mentioned, but there's also my botfa fix-it "Moonlight" (that i will be turning my attention to asap, i promise!! it's only been uh... 5 months since the last update...yikes.)

19. any new fics to start next year

Honestly, I'll be astounded if I conclude "Roads Go On" and "Moonlight" this year. Especially now that I'm in college! So no, I'm not planning on it, except for oneshots (which I'm sure I will write several of).

Although if I can get around to it .... i have had a Legolas-as-Merida Brave AU floating around in my head since FOREVER... maybe I'll bust that out for Arospec Awareness Week...but probably not, oops.

27. favorite fanfic author of the year

@milesofkeeffe is the obvious answer! all your kiliel stuff is so so lovely :) but I also really enjoyed @waitineedaname's taz fics, and of course my homie @buffintruda always knocks it out of the park!

28. longest fic you read this year

it's got to be @milesofkeeffe‘s "Spring After Winter and Sun On the Leaves" coming in at 123k words! of course I've been reading that fic since it began in 2017, so for a fic that i read in its entirety in 2018... that would be this blupjeans fic, "The Last Days of the Legato Conservatory" by goldfishoflove. (warning: it gets nsfw) That one is only 10k words.... can you tell I prefer shorter fics? (Long fics intimidate me! so much time commitment!)

30. favorite fandom to read fic from this year

probably TAZ! I mean, the past few weeks i've been drowning in Tolkien fic (esp Silm fic) but for the overall year I've got to go with TAZ, this fandom's got so many talented writers!

ask me about my 2018 fics!

#milesofkeeffe #buffintruda #waitineedaname #writing updates #ask games #thank you river ily <33 #fic in review #cirth ithil #answers

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malarkis · 6 years

Text

Mercy

As requested by a dear friend of my, here’s an old fic I wrote about Willhelm and a few other familiar faces from the usual militia lot. I hope you all enjoy ; u ;

The sound of gunfire and canons blasted through the canvas walls of the medical tent as the two surgeons and their assistants rushed about, aiding to the wounded and the dying. The men ran about, cutting and stitching as fast as their hands and minds could fathom, but sadly not as fast as the injured were being carried in by the minute. The medical tent was just as much hell as the battle that raged outside. Blood puddled on cots and soil, filling the air with its pungent, metallic miasma. It was more than most could bare, but Percy and Willhelm did all in their power to make it work.

Usually, the two men would’ve worked separately. Though equals in their field, the two were far from companions outside of their professional work. A slight rivalry bloomed between them, no doubt stemming from their opposing work methods. Willhelm was methodical and organized, although a bit too rigid in the eyes of his more radical colleague. Much to Willhelm’s dismay, Percy was more unorthodox in his ways. He was a brilliant man, that much the other would admit, but far too much of a maverick in his field. The two butted heads endlessly, and they were more than thankful when their commanding officer agreed to let them work separately - Percy for the higher ups and Willhelm for the cavalrymen. Today, however, was an exception. The sweat dripped off of Willhelm’s forehead as he put the final stitch on yet another wounded soldier. “Alright, take him away. Next”, he ordered, wiping away the beads of sweat that blurred his vision. The younger of the two chuckled. He barely even glanced up from his work, yet his colleague’s frenzy was as palpable as the bloody mess that lay in his hands. “Losing steam eh, Dr.Blackwood?”, he chortled. “You know, I can always take one off your hands for you. Lighten the load, perhaps?”

Willhelm rolled his eyes at the other man’s irritatingly nonchalant demeanor. He admired him for his ability to handle situations with dire stress, but he also wished he could do so quietly. “As much as I appreciate your assistance, Dr.Hewlett”, he sighed, wiping his hands on a bloodstained rag. “I suggest you keep your paws to yourself, if you wish to keep them.” Percy guffawed as he signaled for the officer he was working on to be sent off. “Well they did warn me you were a genius with a scalpel and saw. The offer still stands though. All this stress can’t be easy for you, old man.” A patient each was set upon their operating tables, groaning and bleeding. This was no time for levity. Willhelm simply scowled before returning to his work. “Bloody maverick.”

—————————

Hours passed and still the influx of patients continued to travel in and out of the medical tent. There had been a slight lull accompanying news of the British forces finally taking the offensive and advancing a few meters northbound. Nonetheless, the surgeons’ work was far from over.

A flood of wounded officers had found their way into Percy’s skillful hands, but like any surgeon, no matter the skill, he only had two. He kept his cool, but Willhelm could see a slight panic beginning to breach the surface. “Eating your words yet?” Willhelm smirked as he watched the other man toil over two patients. “You know it’s never too late. My hands are free. I could lighten the load, perhaps?”, he asked, parroting Percy’s earlier quip.

Percy felt his cheek twitch. “Well, Dr.Blackwood”, he spoke through a strained smile, taking off his spectacles as to wipe them of sweat and blood. “That’s very kind of you to offer. Yet a tad bit unoriginal, don’t you think?” The older man chuckled. He couldn’t help but take even a little pleasure from the other’s chagrin. It seems even the great Percival Hewlett’s pageantries and medical prowess had their limits. “Come now, Dr.Hewlett”, he chided. “There’s no need to be shy.” One of the officer’s squirmed as he went under the needle. “P-perhaps Dr.Blackwood’s right”, he whinged. “Th-think of the othe-“ “I would consider it highly unwise, Mr.Parker, to question the authority of the man who holds your life in his very hands”, Percy cut off the officer with his usual strange brand of saccharine apathy. “Or in this case, your limb. Now please, do hold still.” His strange grin made the man shiver. The canons sounded off yet again, making the ground shake and the tent walls shiver. Percy did all he could to hone himself in, to buckle down, to drown out all the chaos, all the din. It was easy, or at least it was most of the time. Yet again, today proved to be another exception. With aching wrists and tired eyes, the man set down his medical scissors with a defeated sigh. Willhelm simply watched, his brow raised expectantly. “Well, Dr. Blackwood. Today’s your lucky day”, the younger of the two finally admitted. “It seems I’m feeling quite generous.” The other couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s this? Am I sensing a sliver of humanity in the great Dr.Hewlett?” “Yes, well, don’t go getting used to it”, Percy retorted. He bowed his head as he focused on his work once more. “The next officer that walks through that tent is yours, Blackwood.” True enough it took no longer than ten minutes for three new patients - two officers and a private - to be lobbed into the already crowded quarters. The higher ups were split amongst the surgeons, an Officer Richards limping over to Percy’s side of the tent, while an Officer Daniels clung to his bloodied sleeve as he trudged over to Willhelm’s end. A fourth member to the injured party joined them as well, his bespattered kilt swaying stiffly as the blood upon it began to dry. “Jesus Christ, Paddy”, Willhelm exclaimed, recognizing the man. His dark eyes shot quickly to the bloodied apparel. “Don’t tell me-“ “I appreciate the concern, Doc”, the other man panted as he practically dragged his wounded companion. “But it is not my blood. The boy. It’s the boy.” “Yes, well place him on the bench-“ “I would but I don’t think the lad’ll make it if I tried.” The young soldier groaned, his lips quivering as he clutched onto the darkened stain that continued to spread down the front of his coat. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sputter of blood. “Christ Almighty! Get him to the table. The table! Get him on it now!”, Willhelm roared over the panic. He turned swiftly, catching one of his assistants by the arm as they were about to run past. “Bandages. I need bandages, clean ones. More of them. Understood?” Percy watched silently as the other man scurried away. His usual chatter may have ceased, but his curiosity was far from ebbed. With a huff and a grunt, the young soldier was lifted onto the operating table, whimpering in pain at even the slightest movement brought onto his wounded form. Such a sign didn’t bode well. “Alright. Let’s have a look now.” Carefully, Willhelm began to take the soldier’s hand off of his gut and peeled away the blood-soaked jacket flap. “Easy now. Let’s just-“ “How dare you!”, the officer bellowed from behind him. “You put him before me?! I was here first!” “You both came at the same time, Officer Daniels”, Willhelm said over his shoulder, not even turning to look at the man. “Now if you would please wait your tu-“ “Don’t you dare turn your back to me! I’m an officer!” “Yes and I am very much aware of that. I am sure your regiment will fair fine without you even for a moment. From the sounds of it, they already are.” The man’s brows raised in shock. How dare he! How dare anyone speak to him in such contempt! “If we lose this bloody battle because of you-“ “And if we this boy loses his bloody life because of you, then what, Officer Daniels?!”, Willhelm bellowed as he spun around to finally face the nuisance of a man. “Now answer me this and answer me quick because I have another man’s life in my hands! Can you walk?”

“Y-yes.” “Are you breathing?”

“Of course I’m-“ “Do you have a bullet lodged anywhere?” “N-no-“ “Well then, what seems to be the problem?”, Willhelm challenged Daniels. His snide tone was far from appreciated. “Are you blind? I fell off my damn horse and now my wrist-“ “Yes, the thing looks broken. Fractured at most. Now if you please excuse me, I have a man with a hole the size of St.James in his guts! I’m sure you can tell which is more dire, considering that it was your wrist that broke and not your brain.” Daniels couldn’t believe the gall of this doctor! Who did he think was? He sat there, seething as he watched the doctor walk away. “Y-you…m-my superiors will hear of this! This will not go unnoticed, Doctor Blackwood! Mark my words!” “Well, that’s if he has any tongue to tell them with”, Willhelm grumbled as he reached for his forceps. “Aye, steady on now, Will”, Paddy warned. “Believe me, there are several things I’d love to teach that man, he’s a right bugger, he is. Though might I suggest we keep things rather untroubled. For the boy’s sake.” A boy indeed. Willhelm couldn’t help but feel the twisting pang of guilt as he gazed down at the young man. He was young, too young to be here. “He should be at home. Working. Studying”, the doctor thought to himself. His mind wandered for a moment to his students. Then to his son. Good god, the boy looked so much like him - the dark hair and eyes, the slope to his nose. Now, Willhelm was a professional, a man of method and rules. Hardly did he ever let anything move him in such a way. He was acquainted with death and accustomed to blood and pain, much more so than he would like to admit. But this, this broke him. “Well?”, Paddy asked, taking Willhelm out of his subconscious. “What do you reckon, Doc? What’s the damage?” The doctor looked at his friend, but gave no answer. With his forceps and scissors he cut away at the bloodied cloth, revealing a gaping void of viscera and tissue. The boy had been shot in the stomach. It was only a matter of time before the acids and bile began spreading throughout his body and causing an unbearably painful death. And who knows how long it had taken for them to get back to the medical tent. Willhelm had to make a decision and fast. “I-I…I need time”, he faltered. “I just need a little time.” “I’m afraid we don’t have much of it, Doc.”

More blood came up from the young man’s mouth, the dark liquid dripping down his chin and mingling with the viscera that already dampened his uniform. He could not speak nor scream, yet the flurry of fear and panic that shown in his eyes rang clear as the gunshots outside. His cheeks grew wet with tears and blood as his hand gripped onto the fabric of Willhelm’s sleeve. “Steady on, steady on lad”, Paddy comforted the boy, holding him still as he shook with each cough, “Will, we’ve got to do something! Now!” A thousand remedies ran through the doctor’s already frantic mind, and yet none deemed themselves helpful to the cause. The blood was already traveling up to the boy’s throat, the bile and acids of his stomach surely making it hard to breath. The pain, oh Christ ,the pain in the young man’s eyes. Willhelm grabbed a nearby bottle of laudanum and uncorked it. He poured the ruby liquid into the soldier’s mouth while his other hand supported his head. “Will…”, Paddy said, staring in horror. And yet he kept going. The bottle was down to half its content. “Will.” A third. “Willhelm!” A quarter. “Dr.Blackwood!”, Percy’s voice yelled from across the room. Willlhelm stopped, his hands shaking as he put down the tinted bottle. The boy’s grip upon his sleeve had grown limp. He was dead. The doctor’s gaze travelled about the tent, gathering the unnerved glances of those around him. “I-I….I need to…wash my hands…excuse me”, he slurred before turning the other way and walking out of the tent. “Please excuse me.” Paddy, Percy, and the officers simply stared in silent shock at what they had just seen. “He killed him…”, Daniels murmured. “He bloody killed him…” ————————— Percy leaned against the post of the nearby tent, the light emanating from behind him casting long shadows onto the cold ground. The night air had grown silent and still. Only the scent of gunpowder remained as a reminder of the recent battle and victory they had accomplished but a few hours ago. The quiet only amplified the shouting coming from the nearby officer’s tent.

He listened intently, gathering whatever he could from the muffled voices. “So”, Paddy sighed, taking his place beside Percy. The flickering lamplight only accentuated the worry upon his already weathered features. “Officer Daniels really did it eh? Bloody bastard can’t even keep his own boots clean, yet he can keep his word on this?” An exhale drifted from the doctor’s lips and turned to vapor. “Apparently.” The two stood still, the muffled screaming being the only other sound than the groaning of the wounded. “Did he really do it though?”, Paddy asked, his eyes fixated on the glowing tent. “Did he truly kill the boy?” “In a sense, yes. But not to the extent of which most would think.” “Aye, but do they know that?”, the Scotsman said, gesturing to the tent. Pushing himself from the beam, Percy chuckled cooly. “They will. Soon enough.” ————————— “An outrage! This is an absolute outrage!”, Commanding Officer Wesley Péche yelled from behind his desk. “Out of all the people in this company that I expected this sort of buggery from, it definitely wasn’t from you, Dr.Blackwood!” Willhelm stood silently at the front of the desk. He was usually not one to back down from a heated debate, but tonight he could barely even look at the man before him. Instead, his gaze remained fixated on a small scratch engraved onto the dark wood. “I appreciate your trust, Sir-“ “Yes, well it doesn’t seem much like it! You’ve made a mockery of it! And absolute mockery! I hand picked you myself, do you know that?! The college had recommended me your superior, Dr. Langley, but I specifically chose you. Do you want to know why, Dr.Blackwood?” “If I could please explain-“ “Because they told me of your skill, your competence, and most importantly your compliance to the oath you took when you became a surgeon!”, Wesley continued, his hazel eyes glowing with rage in the lamplight. “I thought you proficient in understanding the importance of obedience to the rules. Perhaps I was mistaken.” Though older by a great many years, Willhelm couldn’t help but feel as if he were a young child being scolded by its parent. He clenched his fists tightly, opening and closing them as he took a deep breath. “Sir, with all due respect-“ “No! No!”, the other cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “I don’t want to hear it! Daniels told me quite enough! Not only did you waste an entire bottle of laudanum, a provision that we are in low supply of, but you ignored an officer his right to medical care. And let us not forget the biggest error of all, you-“ “Good evening, Officer Péche”, Percy interrupted as he lifted the flap of the tent. “Forgive the intrusion, but we are needing Dr.Blackwood back in the medical tent. Some of the patients are getting a little fussy.” Wesley scowled. He was already upset enough at one surgeon, he did not need the irksome company of the more confounding of the two at the moment. “Yes, well I am not done with him, Dr.Hewlett. As you can see, I am having a discussion-“ “Ahh! Well then perhaps I could be of assistance?”, Percy offered, fully stepping into Wesley's quarters. The officer blinked. “I don’t see how-“ “Well considering the misdeeds and accusations that are being speculated around the camp concerning our dear Dr.Blackwood, I thought I may shed some light on the situation. I did witness the entire ordeal, after all.” Willhelm held his breath. What on earth was his colleague up to? “W-well…I…I guess, that’s alright…”, Wesley considered, turning his gaze away from the other doctor. Percy always had a habit of making him feel uncomfortable whenever he was in his presence. He would have readily shooed him out of his quarters, but what other choice did he have? The only other witnesses to the incident were Paddy and Officer Richards, the two being unreliable due to their close relations to Blackwood and their injured state, respectively. As much as Percy was far from winning any favors in Wesley’s book, something hardly ever earned by anyone according to the men, the doctor had always seemed rather neutral to most situations. Eerily so. Neither was he close to Blackwood in any sort of the sense. “Fine. Fine. I’ll allow it.” “Perfect. Do carry on, Officer Péche”, Percy said with his usual saccharine nonchalance as he lowered himself down onto a nearby chair. Willhelm stared in horror at the other doctor. Christ, this was it. He was doomed. “As I was saying”, Wesley continued, clearing his throat. “Firstly, you ignored an officer, when according to him and other witnesses, you had promised to ‘lighten Dr.Hewlett’s load’.” “Sir, I-“ “Secondly, you not only used an entire bottle of laudanum, but wasted it-“ “Correction”, Percy said from across the desk. “Not all of it. The bottle still had over a quarter left.” Wesley glowered, his lips drawing to a thin line before he resumed his monologue. “But wasted it entirely on one man. One man! A bottle can serve almost three men if I am not mistaken. Am I Dr.Blackwood?”

“No. No, sir.” “And worst of all, you readily poured the contents of said bottle down the throat of your own patient! Choking him from the reports of the others!” A shot of guilt tore through Willhelm’s gut. “I…Sir, I didn’t intend to kill the boy-“ “Well you most certainly did, according to those present!” “I only meant mercy-“ “Mercy?! By forcing a bottle down his throat!?” “He was in great pain, Sir! There was no other way!” “If I may? Gentlemen?”, Percy interrupted yet again as he stood form his seat and took his place in front of the desk. “I would like to give my own account of this afternoon’s situation.” Wesley hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange prickle as he sat under the fair-haired doctor’s expectant gaze. “If you must…” “Thank you”, he replied with a smile. “Now, I must say that the first two accusations are sadly true. Dr.Blackwood did ignore Officer Daniels’ request, and procured a bottle of laudanum from the already dwindling supply.” “Exactly. Therefore-“ “But he did not do so without reason.” Percy squared his shoulders and calmly placed his hands behind his back, as if he was ready to lecture in front of a class. It irked Wesley to no end. Willhelm shot the other doctor a nervous glance. “Dr.Hewlett, I don’t think-“ “Hush now, I believe Officer Péche has give me the podium, so to speak”, he replied with an ensured grin. “You see, in the medical world, rank does not outweigh the dire need of medical attention. A title and commission, though magnificent in their own right, does not outrank a giant gash across someone’s chest, for example. Though the two patients did arrive at the same time, Officer Daniels’ injury was far more inferior to that of the young private.” “Well I think that’s rathe-“ “Don’t tell me, Officer Péche, that if you were to walk into the tent with, let us say, a fractured shin, yet have your good friend - what’s his name? Harold?” The officer’s ears reddened. “Harold lay bleeding to death on another cot, you would use your rank to get ahead?” Wesley froze, his face looking like a strange cross between a scowl and a grimace. He was never one who enjoyed being scrutinized, much more so when it was he who was supposed to be doing the probing. “Alright. Alright, fine! But that still doesn’t account for what happened to the private. I should have you tried for murder, Dr.Blackwood.” Willhelm felt his blood run cold. “Murder?!”, he exclaimed. “Sir, you cannot be serious!” “All the witnesses said Dr.Blackwood gave the boy a high dosage of laudanum-“ “As a means of mercy, no doubt”, Percy explained. “May I ask you, Officer Péche, if you know the Hippocratic Oath?”

“I-it’s an oath recited by doctors and surgeons as a means of pledging allegiance to their cause and calling. I’m not that stupi-“ “Yes, but do you know the words?”

The officer simply huffed as he leaned back into his chair. “No…no, I don’t.” Obviously delighted by this, Percy prattled on. “Well, then I should enlighten you!” “Please don-“ “It’s quite long, but I shall get to the stanzas that ring quite profound. At least for this situation they do.” Willhelm swallowed hard. He was already in the thick of things earlier on, and now he was just completely lost as to where Dr.Hewlett planned on taking this whole spiel. He simply braced for the worst. “How about you, Dr.Blackwood?”, the other doctor inquired as he turned to his colleague. “Do you remember the third and fourth stanzas of the oath? I’m sure you recall.” “Err, yes”, Willhelm complied, shaking himself out of his stupor. “I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required. I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug.” An awkward silence emanated throughout the tent as the older doctor finished his recitation. Wesley simply stared in confusion. “I don’t see how-“

“I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures that are required. Warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug”, Percy parroted. “In other words, Officer Péche, Dr.Blackwood did nothing else but his job.” Willhelm turned to the man beside him, his eyes wide behind their spectacles. “The boy was dying, and in a lot of excruciating pain from the looks of it. I may not have been by his side, but even I could see that nothing could be done for him. The laudanum allowed him even a moments peace in his time of agony. He would have died sooner or later, quite slowly and painfully if I may add. All Dr.Blackwood did was ensure his comfort as he left this world.”

The older doctor couldn’t help but stare in shock at the man before him, his mouth slightly agape. Had his ears deceived him? Had Percy truly defended him? He quickly pressed his lips together and returned his attention to the officer. Wesley sat with his elbows propped on the desk, his nine fingers knit together as he pondered over Dr.Hewlett’s words. After a few moments, his eyes peered up at the two men before him as he reached a decision. “I will readily admit that I know not of the medical world nor its rules and regulations, but I do know of my own rules. The rules of the military. I am afraid there are some things that cannot go without consequence. I am sure you understand, Dr.Blackwood.” A sinking feeling ran deep through Willhelm as he accepted his fate. “Yes. I do, sir.” “Which is why you will be given a warning…” The doctor raised his gaze. “Sir…” “I am a reasonable man. You will receive a warning for misconduct towards an officer, and the amount equivalent to the bottle of laudanum used shall be taken from your pay.” Willhelm blinked. “A-and what of the boy?” “Gather his belongings and give them to his best mate. Tell them to give them to his family. That is all. Goodnight, gentlemen.” A wave of shock and disbelief surged through the older doctor. Or perhaps it was the sudden depletion of his adrenaline. “Well now that that’s finished, I believe it is time to take our leave”, Percy announced as he lead his colleague out of the tent, but not before turning to the commanding officer once more. “Thank you for time, Officer Péche. Perhaps I may repay you with a check up. I do believe you are due one in the upcoming days. How is your finger, by the way?” Wesley froze and simply occupied himself with a map that lay in front of him. “I..err..p-please just go. There are things I must attend to now. I said goodnight, gentlemen.”

A wicked smile played upon the younger doctor’s lips as they exited the tent and into the cool night air. The slight layer of frost upon the soil crunched beneath their boots as the two men made their way back to the medical area.

“I know I said we needed you back at your station, but I highly suggest you get some rest, Dr.Blackwood”, Percy chuckled. “You had quite the day.”

Willhelm, still fazed by what had just happened, stopped in his tracks and stared incredulously at his colleague. “I…I don’t understand”, he muttered, his warm breath making small puffs of vapor in the night air. “I know we are not the closest of comrades, far from it in fact. And yet…you defended me. I was clearly in the wrong, and yet you insisted..” Percy halted as well. “That may be so”, he said, turning to Willhelm with his signature grin. “But I’m not heartless.”

The older of two stood silently, his legs refusing to work. Or perhaps it was the heavy burden upon his shoulders that soldered him into his place in the frosty ground. “Dr.Hewlett”, he called out. “I…you must understand. I have blood on my hands. A boy’s blood rests upon my hands, and this time I fear a rag and some hot water won’t do…” “Don’t we all?”, the other chuckled. “We are surgeons after all.” “But would you have done the same? W-would you have…put him out of his misery?”

“No”, the other said a-matter-of-factly. “Which is why I applaud you. There is little in this world that I wouldn’t do. I guess you’ve bested me in that, Dr.Blackwood. Congratulations.”

Willhelm tried to fathom something to say, but nothing surfaced except another puff of vapor. “I would say I owe you my gratitude”, he finally admitted. “Though I do not think that is enough, Dr.Hewlett. Lord knows what I would have in store for me had you not stepped in. I…thank you.”

“Like I told you, I was feeling quite generous today”, the other replied. “As you were, in your own right.” A bitter chuckle leapt from Willhelm’s mouth. “Generous? In what? Laudanum? Death?” Percy smiled once more before turning on his heel and lifting the flap of the medical tent. “Mercy, Dr.Blackwood. Mercy.” —————————

#fgjfdklgjsdl ive never been the one ppsting my own work so gahh #i hope yall like this #;; ^ ;; bb #my writing #willhelm blackwood #percy hewlett #paddy #wesley peche

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