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hawkinsschoolcounselor · 3 years

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El and Morality

I don’t know about the rest of you, but the latest teaser left me with a feeling of intense dread. We see these kids playing in a seemingly carefree manner, but then Brenner comes walking in. He greets them, and they obediently respond. They’re all very used to it by this point, and they all call him Papa. He claims to have something special for them, but then we cut over to El’s isolation room and hear Brenner asking her if she’s listening.

Why does this fill me with dread? Mainly because the previous teaser showed some similar images to what we see in this one. The 8-ball, for example, is shown on one of the monitors, only it is covered in blood. It leads me to believe that something terrible happened that day. With Brenner asking if El is ready, then the shot of who appears to be El opening her eyes as if from a nightmare, has me wondering if he used her for something that resulted in the deaths of the other kids.

It’s by no means the most likely scenario for this teaser, but it’s where my mind went. The eerie music, the heavy breathing (ostensibly El’s), the fear on El’s face, it sends an ominous message. Is El remembering something from long ago? Is this a new group of kids in Brenner’s new facility? Is it just a nightmare fed with fear and guilt since she couldn’t save anyone? I really don’t know, but the idea that El may have been used to test the “worth” of the other subjects led me down an interesting road. Whether it was a “training exercise” gone wrong or a deliberate “culling” of the weak, I can’t shake the feeling that El did something that she desperately doesn’t want to remember.

If Brenner intended to use these kids to his own ends, then they should hold no allegiance to anyone but him. Emotional attachments to anyone else would be a risk in his eyes. They would need to have total, unquestioning obedience regardless of what he may ask them to do. For El to be the tool he wishes her to be, she would need to not think twice about killing. Brenner would have instilled in her, and the others, a need to garner his approval. This is why he teaches them to see him as a paternal figure instead of a doctor or teacher. We’ve seen him try to get El to kill a cat, but she refused. This upset him. Yet, we also see her have little issue killing in other circumstances. She’s somehow developed a sense of morals despite being manipulated from birth.

Morals are an interesting phenomenon. The entire concept of right and wrong really is subjective when you think about it. It’s a very abstract concept, and the way we think about it changes as we mature. However, it is also heavily influenced by external sources. In this case, Brenner would seemingly have total control over how his “children” learn to evaluate the morality of a given situation. I’ve previously spoken about El’s mental development, and how Brenner would have wanted to nurture certain intellectual domains, but restrict others. Here I want to discuss a similar process with the psychology of morality. Specifically, we will explore how El may have been manipulated into doing something that we, as viewers, would find horrific, yet come to develop a system of morals in spite, or perhaps because, of that.

Lawrence Kohlberg conceptualized the development of morality as coming in 3 levels (Pre-Conventional, Conventional, and Post-Conventional), broken down into 6 stages . These stages are more or less cumulative, as previous stages help pave the way for later ones. There’s no clear-cut ages for these stages, but level 1 generally encompasses early childhood, level 2 is later childhood and adolescence, and level 3 adulthood. The first level contains the more “primitive” or basic moral frameworks, obedience/punishment driven and self-interest driven. This is a level defined by a more egocentric understanding of the world, as it revolves around what’s “good” being what results in a positive consequence, and what’s bad being what results in a negative consequence. For children, this means learning what’s “good” as a result of an external reinforcer(i.e. “Papa) and then developing this into a sense that it can be used for a mutual benefit (”If I do what Papa says, he will be happy, and I will be rewarded.”). Since it’s still a stage defined by self-interest, there is no loyalty here, and such relationships will deteriorate once it is no longer beneficial.

This may have been Brenner’s fatal flaw. Most individuals wouldn’t move onto the Conventional level until adolescence. While these kids may have had some basic sense of loyalty to “Papa” since it’s possibly all they ever knew, it would still be easily shaken. If you offered these kids some candy, they’d probably do whatever you said unless there was enough fear preventing them from doing so. Fear, not loyalty. El was afraid of Brenner. She may have done his bidding for a long time, but it was because his approval meant better treatment, not because his approval was of value in and of itself.

Given El’s age when she escaped, she was on the cusp of adolescence. Thus, she may have been developing some early features of the 3rd stage, which we can call the “good boy/girl” stage. Here, a person would want to be considered “good” for its own sake, and would look to society for what that means. For our purposes here, Brenner and the lab could have been attempting to be the “society” that the kids would judge themselves with. They would evaluate the morality of an action based on how the others would judge them for it. This is possibly where Brenner wanted the kids to be, only with no concept of what good or bad is beyond what he instilled in them.

That may have been something of a clumsy explanation of the relevant stages of morality, but I didn’t want to get too technical. The important things to take away from this is that El’s sense of right and wrong would have largely have been defined by what resulted in her being happy and/or rewarded. She may have wanted Brenner’s approval, but only because it meant good treatment. The problem here is that El may have been getting her needs met elsewhere: the other kids. If we presume, for the sake of argument, that El developed friendships with the other kids, then we could say that these relationships interfered with the total control that Brenner would want. If she gets older and starts caring more about how they feel about her than how Brenner feels, then his power over her weakens. This is where things get potentially scary.

Let’s say Brenner noticed this happening. El is the most promising, and most dangerous, of his subjects. He must maintain total control over her. However, she is very friendly with the other kids, running the risk of developing attachments that would lead to a more conventional morality. So, Brenner sets up a scenario. He isolates El for an extended period of time, possibly even telling her that the other kids accused her of misbehavior. He tells her that they don’t care about her like he does. El, being in those early stages of moral development, starts to see them as bad since they result in her being hurt. In a real world situation, one kid would be able to do something nice for another in this situation to smooth things over, but this isn’t possible with El in isolation. Then comes the day when Brenner has “something special” in mind for the kids. He’ll see if they’re worth the time and effort, while also finding the extent of El’s obedience.

None of this means El is a bad person, as we will generally see kids acting with such selfishness. One kid gets mad at another for stealing their toy, but fifteen minutes later they’re playing together as if nothing happened. However, kids generally don’t have superpowers they can use instead of pushes and mean words. There’s also usually adults around to help mediate such issues, whereas Brenner would probably want to encourage it to ensure they wanted his approval and his alone.

It’s possible that whatever happened that day changed El and Brenner’s entire dynamic. Whether El was responsible for what (possibly) happened or was just made to witness it, it didn’t have the desired effect for Brenner. We later see El reluctant to kill unless it was to protect (or punish). It’s still unclear where that moral distinction came from, but it suggests that she no longer saw Brenner’s approval as beneficial.

What happened after Brenner walked into that room? Why did he ask if El was listening? Is a present day Brenner asking if present day El is listening while she was remembering/dreaming? Or is the voice a past Brenner asking if past El is listening to his instructions?

Now, this could all be nothing. A good teaser will try to get us hyped up without giving anything important away. The “are you listening” might not even be from that scene at all in reality, or it could just be for the teaser. Still, I thought it a good opportunity for an exploration of morality in someone raised from birth to be a tool or weapon.

Something happened somewhere to make El believe there were right and wrong times to hurt or kill someone, and I just think this may have been a pivotal moment. I think we first see her kill (or at least serious injure) when she breaks out of her isolation cell. That can be explained by her still largely being in the first level of morality. Being in that cell was not in her own best interest, and she reached a point where she didn’t see a way to improve her situation. She may not have intended to kill the orderlies, but it was also not of concern to her. However, we also see her be more deliberate with Troy. First, she merely makes him wet himself, which is a remarkably clever solution. Later, she breaks his arm, but it appeared to only be due to him holding a knife as she simply knocked James down. When it came to the agents or the demogorgon, though, she was prepared to kill again. When she went with Kali to find one of the Lab men, she was ostensibly prepared to kill him until she realized there were kids around. The only pattern I can really see is that she will kill monsters or adults, but she’s reluctant to harm (at least seriously harm) kids or leave them without a caregiver.

I feel like this shows her being caught in between Pre-Conventional and Conventional levels of morality. She’s still largely going off of her own self-interest, but she’s also starting to consider the thoughts and feelings of others, namely her newfound friends. El seems to really want to keep them safe to the point that she risks her own safety. One could say that their approval, particularly Mike’s, is of value to her. She wants them to see her as good, and she attempts to conceal anything that would make her seem “bad” in their eyes, such as the fact that she’s messing with the compass or the fact that she opened the Gate.

We don’t really know how much time would have occurred between the event I hypothesized from the trailer and when El breaks free of the Lab. It’s possible that something happened there to get El to see some sort of moral distinction. She will prank, or even disable, a kid, but she somehow sees serious harm or killing of them as wrong. This leads me to believe that she harbors some type of guilt from her time in the Lab. It could be survivor’s guilt, especially if Brenner made her bear witness to the other’s being hurt or killed. It could also be something far worse if Brenner compelled her to hurt or kill them herself. Regardless, something happened somewhere along the time to get her to no longer as seeing her life in the Lab as “good,” leading to her escaping.

I think this is another one of those posts that got away from me, but hopefully I got my point across. If I try to hard to edit this thing, it’ll never get posted. Again, I have no idea what the teasers are suppose to mean, but they got me started on this train of thought. If you made it this far, then I apologize for those minutes of your life that you’ll never get back.

#stranger things #stranger things 4 #eleven #martin brenner

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bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

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is it still council-hating hours? even if not, this is something that's been bothering me for....so long. and i am going to explode if i don't say it right now. (In fact i actually have a doc titled "council incompetence rant" that is. getting a little long.)

One of the things that annoys me the most in Keeper is how utterly incompetent the Council is. They are shit at their jobs! They don't make sense! And that would be fine if that was something that was explored and talked about in the story, but it's not?

Like, sure, it's brushed on a little, but Keeper never goes in-depth in order to explain just how flawed and corrupt the system is! We have no idea how far the rot goes because we haven't been given a chance to see how far it goes, and despite the earlier books being really great setup for all kinds of plots and discussions surrounding the Council, it feels like Messenger is completely dropping that in favor of..."Neverseen Bad, Council + Black Swan Good". Which I call fucking bullshit on, by the way, because this series has gone to pretty decent lengths before to show that it's not the case! So WHY are we getting to that now?

Well, I think all of this is the symptom of a bigger problem.

Note: I don't want to be mean, and please tell me if I'm being too critical here, but this series has some serious problems actually delivering on what it's saying.

Like, it's trying to tell us that Sophie shouldn't be doing all this because she's a kid, but then it treats her very own existence as a project as background information when that should absolutely be at the forefront (like it was in earlier books)!

It's trying to tell us that discrimination against the Talentless is bad, but then every single member of it's cast has an ability, has a strong ability, and regularly uses their ability! Even Dex, who could have easily been talentless and good with tech, gets to be a Super Good Gadget Person thanks to his ability as opposed to his own creativity and ingenuity.

It's trying to tell us that maybe banishing children is bad, but also tells us that Exillium is now """fixed""" because Oralie gave them...better tents? Food? And never touches on the fact that children are still. getting. banished. It doesn't explore Tam's anger in detail, Linh is only there to be the token asian girl, it does nothing to fully dispel any thought of the Council being alright.

And it's trying to tell us that the Council fucks up, it's showing us that Councillors have no problem being incredibly selfish and violent and so many other terrible things, but that never changes. Nothing in Keeper is changing. It is only maintaining the status quo!

I'm confused as to what Messenger is trying to tell her readers! Are the Council good or bad? Is working with the Council good or bad? Are the Black Swan and Neverseen actually morally grey? Should I be angry at what's happening in these books? Am I meant to look at all the rot and shrug because "that's just how it is"?

And like...I wouldn't be mad if Keeper was just...bad! I mean, I would, but I wouldn't be as distraught! What really grinds my gears is that Keeper has the chance to be good. It has the chance to do great things - and at times it absolutely does! - but it keeps reinforcing belief in a deeply flawed and broken system that is regularly hurting people. And those examples were just off the top of my head!

And again, if this was explored within the series, that would be amazing, but the problem is that it's...not. And that's just...a real fuckin' shame, honestly.

- pyro

(sorry if this was like...too angry? i started and then kinda just...couldn't stop. i should probably get a hobby that's not tearing a middle grade series apart. oops.)

it may have been over a week since you sent this (thank you for being patient with me!!), but fuck yes it is still council hating hours. it is always council hating hours in this household that is not actually a house. (also that incompetence rant sounds intriguing)

yes! you are right! they are so bad at what they're supposed to be doing it's like they're just figures for people to look to and say "yea they'll take care of it" to keep everyone else from acting out! but it's really interesting to see a government so awful and incompetent be such an integral and influential part of the story...without acknowledging that they're actually really bad? I know in Unlocked there's a line where Shannon says something like "Sophie had to figure out who the bad guys were: the black swan? the council? someone else entirely?" but then it's never touched on again that I can remember. Thinking through the series, I honestly can't think of a situation that the council, of their own volition, saw was an issue and corrected in a way that was beneficial to those who needed it. Like yea, Oralie gave money to Exillium, but that was after Sophie chewed her out about it. I think i've said it before but in case not: it feels like they've taken the "for the good of the many over the good of the few" ideology too far in a society that doesn't work for. If someone threatens the majority (and often that's just in appearance only) they get rid of them to preserve the image of the rest. It doesn't care about their people, it cares about the majority of people feeling undisturbed.

considering Sophie is part of a huge organization created literally because their society, led by that system, isn't working for a lot of people, they (the Black Swan) sure do go along with the council a whole lot. I think one of the linked posts in one of my masterposts is specifically about how making the Black Swan work so closely with the council screwed them over and completely undermined everything they were working towards. I'm going to make a very vague comparison here, but the Black Swan feel like "we need to fix the system" while the Neverseen are "the system is broken lets start over" (except the Neverseen added a lot more violence into the mix). It's absolutely infuriating to have them working side by side: one, because the Black Swan aren't accomplishing any of their goals and should cut their losses and go back to being mysterious underground groups with more freedom to move (in my opinion), but two, because it makes the council seem like it's trying to fix things when really it feels like a publicity thing to make the public think they're addressing the rebel issue while they're really just showing up in places and causing problems. And!! that's another thing! it feels like their collaboration with the Black Swan is to address the problem of having rebels, not the problems these rebels have identified and are trying to fix. Unfortunately, it seems the council is getting their way more than the Black Swan, getting them to act more legally and work closer with less room for working outside the system. if that makes sense.

considering it's literally stated in unlocked that there is no "good" and "bad," there does seem to be a lot of focus on associating the Black Swan with being Right, and the Neverseen with being Wrong. I can hope that it's the outward reactions to the Black Swan realizing they've done some fucked up stuff (Sophie) and are now overcompensating and trying to make sure their every move is the correct one. But I do think it will be interesting to see if Sophie makes the connection in canon (as she's already started to) that there isn't always a right option, there's just the best you can do with a situation and the Black Swan's insistence that she was "in the wrong" (a summary) helps her realize her own values and think through their decisions with her own perspective instead of just trusting them

response to your note: you're fine! you bring up a good point that this book sounds like it wanted to be a unique perspective (by having the "good guys" also be questionable and give the "bad guys" reasonable motives) but the execution misses the mark for a lot of us. so you're qualms and observations are entirely valid and I don't think you're being mean at all! I think you're expressing a frustration you have with something, which I support and encourage.

at times it feels like Shannon bit off more than she could chew in terms of all the complicated things she could get into when it comes to this series. not saying she's doing a bad job or a horrible author or anything, just that there are some things she introduced that kind of get left behind or unexplored because there's so much else going on. I think we can see that in the whole being experiment part of Sophie life. we saw sophie was uncomfortable with it in the first few books and would sometimes bring it up, but I personally would've been more satisfied if she'd either taken the time to process it (opposed to her think about that later strategy) or come to the realization that no, she isn't okay with it and she deserves to have her thoughts on the matter heard. she was literally created to serve someone elses purpose, and brought into the fight too early at that. and yet it's treated like an "oopsie, guess we just gotta go with it" thing, like this minor part of her story when I bet her thinking about it for more than a minute at a time would absolutely wreck her. but I'm getting caught up in this, so moving on!

I think we can see it in the talentless too, as it's treated like a "that doesn't affect me" thing for Sophie. because she doesn't have any friends that are talentless right now--the closest she's got is Marella, who I think is still legally considered talentless with her pyrokinesis. it's been acknowledged that she doesn't think the way talentless are treated is right, but it doesn't impact her right now so she's not really doing anything about it. maybe if this was brought back later with someone like Jensi, then that would be a satisfying conclusion to this issue (not a conclusion, but it wouldn't be left hanging, if that makes sense). And I can understand the benefit of leaving things open to go back and explore later from a writers perspective, but at a certain point it becomes more of a hindrance to the story than anything else.

and exillium! I have so many thoughts on Exillium that I actually started talking about it earlier in this post. They're not doing anything unless prompted and what they do is the bare minimum. With the tents and the food, they aren't fixing Exillium, they're making it into what it should've been at the very least were they going to actually go down that route. So I can't praise them for it when it's just basic decency to provide literal children with food and shelter when you force them to be somewhere they don't want to. But all this doesn't fix Exillium, because the problem is that it exists in the first place. The problem is that the council saw children who were struggling, and decided the best thing to do with them was to just get them out of the way for everyone else. Three coaches total for leadership? yeah, there's no way that place was ever supposed to be "alternate learning" or however Oralie phrased it, that was just so you could say you hadn't completely abandoned them in the middle of nowhere.

you're so right about the council fucks up bit--I think the most obvious example of this is with Sophie's ability restrictor. Yea, she's not wearing it anymore, but that's not because the council changed their minds. It's because she broke the law and the didn't punish her for it. this is a great example of how things keep trying to move forward, but the council isn't doing anything to stay up with it. "they are selfish and violent[...] but that never changes." yes!! this!! you put it so well! the council is still the same old council that we saw in book one, concerned with their own interests and their own views, just trying to mitigate the damage Sophie and her friends are capable of doing to their system. Note: the fact that a handful of teenagers who haven't even graduated can do this much damage might be telling of the structural integrity of their system. Bronte and Terik did a little flip, and Alina replaced the Now Crispy Kenric, but aside from that nothing has changed.

I will say, I personally don't want it to be clear who the good guys and bad guys are. (not saying that's what you're asking for! just piggybacking off your comment on the confusion). I'm glad that the characters make me think and I'm grateful there isn't just the "we're good and they're bad" element you see in other stories. not that that's bad, i just think realistically they'd be more complex and their simplicity grows repetitive after a while. But like I said, at times it feels like there's too much going on for there to be a clear message, which in and of itself could be the message. i could be seeing something where there's nothing, though. I think part of it might be Shannon trying to take on all these complex narratives and perspectives with a limited perspective (as in she only has Sophie to tell the story through), while also needing to make it enjoyable and palletable to a young audience.

and I agree with you! I think it's a lot of the potential we see not being used that makes us so infuriated (or me at least). Because there are some stories yo uread where you're like "ah. it's just one of those stories. cool." and you move past it. Because you know it's going to have a set perspective and you know it's going to accomplish what it wants, but Keeper seems to have so many possibilities and Shannon's getting stuck in this rut of good and bad after so long. maybe we'll get out of it in the next book with sophie thinking the Black Swan was in the wrong, but I also wouldn't be surprised if that Didn't Happen.

it's just like what i was saying about Ro! There's all these opportunities for these characters and this world to be really explored and fleshed out and complex, but we've gotten stuck in this romance drama and loosing fights again and again with little progress. All their actions are undoing the Neverseen's actions and counting it a victory because no one is dead. I just think there could be so much more that we're not getting because the story tried to go too broad when it wasn't ready for it.

this response got very long but in essence: I agree with your assessment of the story. is frustrating to see so many of the details and paths we'd like to see explored that often aren't in fiction just pass us by.

there is a special place for keeper in my heart and I will always appreciate it for that, but I also mourn what it could've been.

(also: you are not too angry! you have genuine thoughts about this series and they deserve to be heard! we are allowed to have complaints, even about the things we like. we don't have to appreciate every single aspect and we're allowed to be mad at the things we don't like.)

#we are a week into october and I have several asks from september still #how many can i answer in one day is the question #but back to what you were saying pyro #I don't want to just completely rewrite the entire series myself #but I do think there are things that could've been approached better and the council is one of them #If the Black Swan and Sophie both acknowledge their faults #i don't fully understand why they work so closely together #but that's a whole other thing so I should probably stop #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc character analysis #kotlc council #the black swan #quil's queries #pyrokinetic-loser #long post

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reinvent-and-believe · 4 years

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another taste of heavenly rush

So this was supposed to be a silly little breathplay PWP drabble as a birthday tribute to the lovely @witchertrashbag but then it kind of...evolved??? Mutated??? lol who knows what happened, I sure as hell don’t. Anyway happy late birthday Wine Aunt, you’re a credit to this fandom, I hope you enjoy this belated smutty mess 🖤

Jaskier is utterly bewitched by the sight of a huge, leather-clad hand on the man’s throat.

He should be paying attention to the words being exchanged, seeing as he started the quarrel that led to the aforementioned hand-on-throat situation. Well. Hadn’t started it, per se, but he had certainly escalated it, and gods know Geralt won’t appreciate that particular nuance.

But the red-faced man currently gasping for breath beneath the witcher’s considerable grip had simultaneously insulted Jaskier’s songwriting and Geralt’s honor in one ill-begotten, unoriginal sentence after Jaskier’s performance in the tavern common room, something about “don’t clap for that little prick’s filth, praising freaks and monsters.” The bard had simply smiled sweetly, taken a sip of his ale, and intimated that the man’s wife was something of an expert on the subject of little pricks.

And then the man tried to hit him with a chair, and Jaskier can hardly be blamed for that, although Geralt will, inevitably. He’d scurried away from the onslaught and called out an only vaguely panicked “Geralt!” which led them here, the ugly sour-breathed man pinned to the tavern wall, his feet twitching desperately for solid ground, held up by one huge, bulky hand.

This little misadventure won’t make it into one of his songs. There’s nothing poetic about a prejudiced drunk man being rude and getting choked for his efforts.

Although...Jaskier’s eyes are drawn again to the sharp contrast of the brown leather of the gauntlets against the greasy pink of the man’s skin. Maybe there is something poetic to choking, after all. Choking, choking out, feeling the life drain from your body by a huge, leather-clad hand. Choking as in choking something else, draining something else from...jerking off, choking as in jerking off, and it’s not his best work but he’s fairly distracted at the moment because the thought of a huge, leather clad hand gripping a swollen, leaking cock has burrowed its way into Jaskier’s mind and fuck, how is he supposed to think about anything else now? Slick red head squeezed a little too hard, beading pearlescent drops disappearing into a supple russet fist that’s a little too coarse, too cold, too dry but feels divine nonetheless…

“Jaskier!”

Fuck.

The innkeep is shouting at them to get out, holding a broom as menacingly as one can hold a broom, and Geralt is glowering at him. “Go, bard! Roach!”

Right. He grabs his lute and flies out the door, the cool night air a shock on his overheated skin. He sprints to the stables and sets to work quickly tacking up the mare as he coos at her soothingly. “Deepest apologies, my dear lady, but it seems our plans for the evening have been altered somewhat.”

He’s leading her out and back toward the tavern when the door flies open, Geralt charging out. He fixes Jaskier with an exasperated glare and snatches the reins from him. “Dammit, Jaskier,” he mutters, swinging into the saddle. “If your cock doesn’t get us both killed, your mouth will.”

And if Jaskier’s arousal had flagged in the process of fleeing and fetching their escape horse, all it takes is a reference to cocks and mouths in close proximity to bring it roaring back to life as Geralt drags him up behind him and spurs Roach into a gallop out of the village.

It’s new, this thing with Geralt.

He’d met the witcher just over two years ago, back in Posada. They’d travelled together and parted near half a dozen times since, but this current sprint is by far their longest together, going on four months. They’ve fallen into a routine, found ways of traveling that make both their paths smoother. Jaskier’s songs are more lucrative when he can theatrically proclaim that their hero, his muse, the town’s savior is in their very midst; Geralt’s presence protects him from beasts and monsters and bandits and keeps him fed on fresh game between towns when they make their camps beneath the stars. And though Geralt’s never mentioned it, he can tell he’s come to appreciate Jaskier’s contributions, too: he sets up camp and builds a fire while Geralt hunts when they stay in the country, procures rooms with less humiliation and rarer downright refusals from rude innkeeps and for significantly less coin when they stay in the village. Noticing Jaskier’s penchant for picking wildflowers on the roadside, Geralt’s even started teaching him the herbs, flowers and berries he needs for his potions.

Traveling together does have its drawbacks, of course, particularly Geralt’s reticence to stay within the confines of civilization. He’s perfectly content to go weeks without sleeping in an inn if the town doesn’t have any contracts available, wont to ride away from perfectly good villages where Jaskier would be able to find perfectly good lovers.

This came to a head a few weeks ago. Jaskier tried to settle on the lumpy ground for the night, tried to ignore that prickling restlessness beneath his skin, but he couldn’t will it away, couldn’t force himself into a fitful sleep like he had the past several nights. He tossed again, unable to stifle a sigh, when the witcher rolled onto his side to glare at him.

“Would you stop your fussing?”

“Fussing? I’m not fussing, Geralt, I can’t sleep.”

“Can’t you not sleep quietly?”

He snorted. “What a very stupid question. Weren’t you just saying yesterday that I don’t even think quietly?” Tired and frustrated and horny as all hell, Jaskier opted for the truth. Watching Geralt get that uncomfortable, vaguely constipated look he got when Jaskier talked about sex always provided an amusing distraction, at least. He sighed melodramatically, adopting a most put-upon voice. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve indulged in the wondrous carnalities of a companion, Geralt?”

“Don’t really care.”

“Ages, Geralt, it’s been ages. At least a week. Some may bear the cruelties of celibacy with stoic fortitude, my dear witcher, but alas, some of us simply are not so equipped. We really should stop in the next village. It’d do us both a world of good to sleep in a bed, particularly one that’s warm, if you get my drift.”

The witcher looked at him with that inscrutable expression. “Plenty of chances for you to get your dick wet once we reach Gors Velen.”

Jaskier darted up, horrified, all pretensions forgotten. “Gors Velen?” he whined. “You said yourself we’re still a month away from Gors Velen!”

Geralt shrugged. “You’ve got a hand.” With that, he turned his back to Jaskier.

And well. It had been Geralt’s suggestion, after all, and Jaskier may have many attributes to his credit and otherwise but shyness has never been counted among them. And if perhaps he put on a bit of a show, fucking up into his hand with a little more bitten-lip moaning, a little more breathless panting than was strictly necessary, well, it served Geralt right for brushing off his perfectly legitimate concerns so rudely. And if he came particularly hard with a surprised gasp that was all too genuine when he shot a glance at his companion and saw the witcher facing him again, perfectly still, with an intent, impenetrable expression that Jaskier thought looked almost intrigued, well, that served Geralt right, too.

And that’s how this thing with Geralt started.

The next night, Jaskier made no such fuss when he laid down atop his bedroll, brazenly pulling his cock from his smallclothes and stroking himself languidly as he met that golden stare with something akin to a challenge. “You too?” he asked, breathless, and moaned as he watched Geralt’s hand drift down to palm himself through the rough cotton.

A few nights later Jaskier laid out their bedrolls side by side, not touching but nearly. “It’s not quite fair, is it,” he explained, rolling his balls indulgently with one hand as he set a lazy pace with the other. “You with your extraordinary superhuman witchery senses, you get to hear every little noise I make, see every little expression on my devilishly handsome face from all the way across the fire. Seems like we ought to level the playing field, as it were.”

“Don’t need witcher senses to hear you,” Geralt groused, but the corner of his lip crooked in what could only be the hint of a grin as he settled in beside him without protest, taking himself in hand and echoing Jaskier’s tempo.

(Geralt can maintain his blank expression fairly well while getting off, Jaskier knows now, but he’s slightly less guarded when it comes to sound, to the noises too soft and unintentional to be noticed without such proximity. The little hitch when he twists his wrist just so at the head; the low rumbling of a moan in his chest that never reaches his lips when he’s close, so close; the voiceless exhale when he comes that sometimes, when it’s really good, sounds as though it’s been punched out of him; the abortive, shuddering breaths as his strokes turn into the gentlest trailing of the fingertips down his shaft just past the point of oversensitivity, prolonging that sweet touch until it can no longer be endured.)

The next night, well. A hand’s a hand, and there’s not so very much difference between wanking and assisting your very best friend in the whole wide world wanking, really.

And that’s what this is. Jaskier has no grandiose romantic notions, not about this, not really. It’s not about the passionate heat of bodies entwined, it’s just hands and cocks to aid with sleep and that’s all it has to be. This thing with Geralt is about getting off, not about sex, and he’s not entirely sure he understands this arbitrary boundary he’s constructed but the distinction feels crucial nevertheless. It’s a matter of convenience, not lust. Jaskier is content with this arrangement. It’s more than he ever hoped to experience with his lovely, taciturn friend, and that’s enough. He can enjoy these encounters with Geralt without needing them, without craving something more, without deluding himself into thinking they’re...something else. Paramours. Lovers.

Anyway, this was all going swimmingly until Geralt throttled a man on his behalf and it was the most arousing thing he’d ever witnessed. Now Jaskier is pressed up against him on a horse riding from a town in which they are no longer welcome with what has got to be the most obnoxiously persistent erection of his life because he can’t stop imagining those hands around his throat.

“Whoa, Roach.” Jaskier feels the witcher’s body tense against him as he pulls on the reins, halting as they approach a small copse of trees. “This’ll do.” He dismounts gracefully and Jaskier scrambles behind.

He’d assumed that Geralt would be furious that they’d finally stopped at an inn only for Jaskier’s uncanny ability to find himself in trouble got them ousted, but he doesn’t seem furious as they set up the campsite. Not that he says anything, of course, and not that he would say anything if he were furious, but Jaskier has grown rather accustomed to reading Geralt’s silences. This particular silence doesn’t seem to be perturbed in any way. If anything, it almost seems amused. Surely he’s misreading something.

He’s just finished situating the bedrolls when he turns around and nearly slams into Geralt. “Bloody hell Geralt, are you trying to...oh.”

Geralt unceremoniously tugs the bow fastening Jaskier’s trousers loose, reaching into them and immediately setting to work with a sure, steady hand.

“...oh, you’re trying to...that.” He closes his eyes at the sensation.

Geralt’s hand stills, gripping him lightly. “Will I get some rest if we don’t?” His face remains impassive as ever, but there’s something in his grumble that Jaskier could almost swear sounds teasing, fond. “Rather deal with you now than listen to you toss about and whine for an hour pretending you’re trying to sleep.”

And Jaskier could protest because honestly, he hasn’t since that first night, but he allows it, lets Geralt have his excuse because something’s different tonight. They never touch until they’ve undressed and settled into their bedrolls for the night. It’s just a part of the routine.

Nothing about this feels routine.

He lets out a laugh that’s a bit higher than he intends as Geralt resumes fisting his cock. “My, my, someone’s eager tonight,” he breathes, and all right, he may have no room to talk, but Geralt initiating this is beyond uncharacteristic.

A hum resonates deep in his chest. “Felt you rubbing up on me since we left town. You’re not subtle, bard.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not…subtle? Fuck.”

The witcher rolls his eyes. “Smelled you before that,” and honestly, fuck Geralt for wanting to have a conversation all of a sudden now that Jaskier’s completely incapable of it, “back in the tavern. What was it?” Geralt is shifting them, guiding him carefully, his hand never losing its rhythm, until Jaskier feels the trunk of a sturdy oak at his back. “What got you so hard in the middle of a bar fight?”

A knee slips casually between his legs, and the hard line of Geralt’s still-clothed cock presses against his hip, rutting ever so gently. “Gods, Geralt.” It comes out a whine, and Jaskier’s sure he’ll hate himself later for how easily he’s undone but now there’s just contact, so much touch all over and hot breath against his neck and he lets his eyes flutter closed, lets himself feel.

“Did you actually fuck that man’s wife earlier? While I was at the armourer’s, maybe? Did she leave you with some good memories?”

It takes a second for Jaskier to catch up to the question with Geralt’s hard body leaned against him, a delightful weight. Right. Man in the bar. Implied he’d cuckolded him, that’s what determined the course of this whole bizarre evening.

“Or was it the barmaid? Was she what distracted you in the middle of that scene you caused?” Geralt sounds perfectly unaffected, somehow, that mild, ribbing tone he uses when he pretends to scoff at Jaskier’s antics. “The redhead. The one whose bed you hoped to be in tonight.”

And he’s right, of all the people in the crowded tavern she’d been the one who caught his eye, the one he’d be planning to direct his next song to. Of course Geralt had noticed. Geralt knows what Jaskier wants. Knows what he needs.

And that’s...that’s what this is, that’s what he’s doing. Jaskier had planned to find a lover for the evening, planned to slip into a blissful haze of fucking where he doesn’t have to concentrate on keeping this unwelcome longing at bay and even though it’s Jaskier’s own fault that opportunity slipped through his fingers, Geralt wants to give him some semblance of that release. It’s why he’s talking, why he’s bringing up these women he assumes drove Jaskier to distraction.

And with Geralt’s breath on his skin and hand on his cock and body leaned so heavily against his, Jaskier wants to give him an answer. Wants to give him everything there is.

What got you so hard in the middle of a bar fight?

Jaskier grasps the hand not stroking his cock and brings it to his throat.

The world stops.

His eyes fly open to meet Geralt’s, and he knows he’s made a mistake. The witcher withdraws quickly, stepping away, turning his back.

“Fuck, Geralt, no, I’m—”

“Stop.” Geralt doesn’t face him, but he’s not leaving, at least. “Don’t.”

Jaskier leans back against the tree, trying to catch his breath. He scrubs his hand over his face. Leave it to Jaskier to fuck up something this divine.

He watches those broad shoulders lower, his breathing even out, but the tension is still written in every line of his body. Geralt stands silent for a moment before he quietly asks, “That’s what...at the tavern?”

Wretched, Jaskier nods, but of course Geralt can’t see that, so he stammers out, “Ah, yes. It seems so.”

When he speaks again, his voice remains carefully flat. “You were afraid of me?”

“What?”

“Were you afraid of me? Back at the tavern.” He considers, then adds, “Or now?”

“Geralt, no,” and maybe he shouldn’t, maybe he should give him space, but Jaskier pushes away from the tree, scurrying over to him and clutching his shoulders frantically. “No, listen to me, Geralt, I’m a horny idiot, that’s the thing, it was just...I don’t know, it was sexy! It was sexy, seeing you manhandle him, imagining if you manhandled me, maybe, with your gloves and your hands and your muscles, I don’t know, it was just a fantasy, I suppose, it just happened, but certainly not because I was scared you’d hurt me.” An ugly, desperate laugh rises from his throat unbidden. “If anything it’s because I know you wouldn’t, Geralt, I know you’d keep me safe.”

The witcher looks past him, but Jaskier sees the tension in his jaw release, sees his chest move a little more freely with his breath. After a moment, Geralt nods. “Thought perhaps I’d misread this.” It’s low, almost too low to hear.

“I want you,” Jaskier blurts out, and he should stop talking, he really means to stop talking, “I want you. Quite a lot. The rough, ah, the choking thing, that’s all just...I don’t need that. Don’t want anything you don’t want.”

It’s all a little too raw, a little too genuine, and Jaskier realizes with a sudden sinking feeling that this may actually be worse than his initial blunder, that an unexpected predilection for rough sex is one thing but voicing that longing he’s worked so hard to keep sectioned away is something else entirely.

He’s about to apologize when he hears the low hum.

Geralt is studying him, head tilted to one side. There’s nothing on his face to indicate disgust or excitement, no rejection or acceptance; just those golden eyes meticulously examining him, just like they had that first night. Curious. Intrigued.

Fuck. Jaskier doesn’t need a hand on his throat to make it hard to breathe.

“No gloves.”

“Sorry, what?”

Rough fingertips map his throat lightly, not pressing, not caressing, just exploring. Jaskier recognizes this look, it’s the same studious evaluation he’d seen Geralt give that nekker corpse yesterday before he began harvesting organs from it and that should definitely kill the mood here but it doesn’t. He pauses, wide finger resting over a thunderous artery. “They’re too thick. Wouldn’t be able to feel if it’s too much.”

“Right,” Jaskier rasps out. “Right, yeah, good. No gloves is good.” And if the image of being thrown about like a ragdoll and forced against a wall had seemed erotic, it somehow doesn’t compare to the overwhelming potency of these careful, analytical touches with Geralt monitoring his breath, his heartbeat, his face.

“Do you still want to try?” It’s a low rumble, but Geralt’s eyes are boring into him and all Jaskier can do is nod aggressively, grabbing Geralt’s hand and pulling him back until he’s leaned against the tree again, pausing only to fling off his open doublet.

Geralt shakes his head, quickly disciplining the little entertained smile that flits across his features but not before Jaskier sees it. It sends a reckless, euphoric thrill through his whole body. “Ah Geralt, admit it, you think I’m endearing,” he grins, striking a dramatic pose against the tree.

“You’re a nuisance,” he snorts, but he snakes his hand down the front of the bard’s trousers again, stroking him with just enough pressure to coax him back to hardness.

Jaskier rocks gently into his fist, a small contented sigh morphing into something much more ragged when he feels that solid hand back on his throat.

“Tap my arm if you want to stop.”

Jaskier nods, delighting in the way his flesh shifts under Geralt’s hand at the motion. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the fingers tighten. “Good?”

“Good.”

“More?”

“Please,” and it’s a whine but he doesn’t care. His eyes drift shut. It feels like the pounding pulse is flowing straight from his throat into Geralt’s hand, or maybe the other way around, it doesn’t matter when all he wants is to lose himself in this swelling, living tattoo.

The pressure lets up and there’s a rush, a bright heady flood of exhilaration and he can feel every cell tingling in his body as his lungs work overtime to compensate and he can’t help thrusting forward faster into the tight fist on his cock.

Geralt’s other hand stays in place, loosely cupping his throat, idly stroking the skin. “Eyes open,” he murmurs, nuzzling into the crook of Jaskier’s neck for just a moment, breathing him in, his own breath labored. When he pulls back he looks a little wrecked. “Eyes on me, yeah?”

Jaskier nods, leaning into both warm hands a little desperately. “More?”

Geralt groans as he applies careful, steady pressure.

It’s good. There’s something soothing about the gentle acceleration of that drumming, far-off and immediate at the same time, the only sound that exists here. Peaceful. Floaty, almost. He wonders vaguely if this is what Geralt feels when he meditates.

“Jaskier.” The voice cuts through the haze, low but firm, the softest command. He focuses on Geralt, that unwavering gaze fixed on him. “Stay with me.”

Where else would he want to be?

And he’s still floating but somehow those golden eyes are a tether, not grounding him entirely but keeping him from drifting away. And when the tension releases and the tidal wave of elation sweeps through him again it’s met with chapped lips on his throat and fingers scratching through the hair at the nape of his neck and a steadying weight against him, and when the dizziness settles and he rests against the reassuring stability of the oak behind him, then there’s shifting, moving, the harsh grinding voice asking a question Jaskier can’t make out but understands anyway, golden eyes full of that question staring up at him and Jaskier answers by threading his fingers through pale locks shining silver in the moonlight and the warm, strong hand stroking him is replaced with the soft heat of Geralt’s mouth.

He won’t last much longer, not with the way Geralt’s thick fingers grip him, digging into the meat of his ass, with the way he chokes a little taking Jaskier all the way down but keeps pulling him in, deeper, and it’s wet and messy and a little too divine.

“Fuck, Geralt, I…” he gasps, the closest to a warning he can formulate, but the witcher’s staring up at him through dark lashes and sucking him down harder and Jaskier surrenders, coming with a keening cry.

Geralt diligently works him through it, swallowing and dissolving into desperate noises around Jaskier as he feverishly strips his own cock. He releases Jaskier and buries his head in the crook of the bard’s hip, shoulders heaving harshly. Jaskier pets him soothingly, long fingers massaging his scalp tenderly through the broken moan, the shuddering aftershocks, the shallow breaths slowly evening out.

They stay that way for a few endless moments, neither willing to break the trance, the intimacy. Jaskier barely notices gentle fingers unlacing his boots, pulling off one then the other. Geralt deftly tucks the bard’s softening cock back into his smallclothes before carefully pulling off his trousers and folding them neatly. He stands slowly, guiding Jaskier to his bedroll and settling him there, crouching beside him moments later with a waterskin he presses to Jaskier’s lips.

“Best take care, witcher,” Jaskier teases softly, “a man could get used to such treatment.”

“Don’t,” Geralt grunts, but there’s no heat to it. He thoroughly inspects Jaskier’s neck, tilting his head one way then the other with two light fingers on his jaw. “Pain anywhere?”

“No pain.”

“Good.” Apparently satisfied, Geralt stands, undressing methodically and lying in his own bedroll. After a few moments of silence, he adds, “Wake me if anything hurts. Or if you have trouble breathing.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh, turning on his side to fix his companion with a rueful smile. “Geralt, have you ever known me to suffer in silence?” Those inscrutable eyes hold him, searching, so Jaskier reaches a tentative hand to his jaw. “Thank you. For your...indulgence.” There’s an entirely different tightness in his throat, suddenly. “For taking such good care of me.”

For a moment, Jaskier thinks Geralt may answer as he watches something unguarded yet still utterly indecipherable flit across the witcher’s scarred, handsome face. When he speaks, there’s something soothing in the low rumble. “Get some sleep, bard.”

And he does.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #breathplay cw #choking cw #choking during sex cw #this is just self-indulgent smutty softness i'm so sorry #my fic

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suwya · 3 years

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Chapter 6

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

Prologue; Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

AO3

A/N: Sorry for the waiting, but real life came along and I had to stop writing for a couple of weeks. Thank you @thisonesatellite for being the best beta reader I could ever ask for. And thank to all of you who are reading this. Happy Labour Day!

Chapter 6 . .

Be not inhospitable to strangers,

lest they be angels in disguise.

(W. B. Yeats)

When Killian regained consciousness he found himself in what reminded him of a military hospital. There were thin white curtains around his bed, but through them he could spot other beds like his, most of them empty. The room seemed large and dimly lit.

He closed his eyes and remembered the crash landing, the unknown desert planet, the great rock that was about to crush Henry, and that feeling of unease and imminent danger he had felt just before the impact. Where was he? And above all what kind of situation was he in, a good or a bad one? He opened his eyes again, and noticed he wasn’t alone. A woman was checking his IV, and a nearby monitor was beeping intermittently.

Killian tried to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his lungs made him desist immediately. He groaned loudly.

“Look who’s awake.” Said the woman, who was now staring at him. “Hello, handsome.” She added cheerfully.

Killian had found himself dealing with uncharted waters several times in his life. He decided to play the waiting game. “This is usually my line, well, more or less.”

“Really? In this case, I'll warn my husband not to approach you.”

“Don’t worry I'm not into men, not recently at least.” He smirked.

“Oh, but my husband is quite the charming one.”

“I still prefer the company of a fair lady, if I could choose.” He winked and chuckled, and a dull pain made him gasp.

“Take it easy.” She immediately shifted her attitude from playful to worried. “How do you feel?”

“As if I've been hit by a rocket.”

“Not a rocket, but yes, you’ve been hit hard. You’ve suffered two broken ribs. And believe me, you were lucky, it could have been worse. Do you mind if I run some tests and see how you react?”

“No problem.”

While the woman was busy measuring his temperature, making him follow a small blue LED light with his gaze, and extracting some blood to examine later, he took advantage of the opportunity to observe her more closely. She had short black hair and green eyes, bright and lively in contrast to her very delicate skin. Killian found himself thinking of another pair of green eyes, which had been filling his thoughts frequently lately. The memory brought him back to reality quickly.

“What is this place?” He inquired, eager to know what had happened while he was unconscious.

“Welcome to Vernal-Den.” She answered smiling.

Killian tried to remember if he had ever read about this planet. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, we’re not very popular.”

Was she too concentrated on checking-in his vitals, or was she being too concise on purpose? He didn’t know, but he intended to keep an eye on her. “How long was I out?”

“A while.” Another elusive answer.

He decided to test the waters. “Were there ….other injured people with me?”

“If you’re referring to Henry and Emma, they are perfectly fine.” She seemed sincere. “They are staying at our place. Henry has visited you every day since you came in.”

“And Emma?”

“Well, she can’t come in. She’s not a relative of yours. But she has spent long hours sitting just outside that door.” She said pointing towards the exit. “I had to order her to go home and get some rest.”

After that she excused herself, saying that she had to attend to other patients.

He realized she hadn’t even told him her name. He didn’t know if he could trust her or not. The fact that she had avoided some of his questions sent chills down his spine. And most of all there was the Emma problem.

Why couldn’t she visit him? Was it true that it was only a matter of rules? Or was she in some kind of peril? He needed to know what was happening behind those doors that separated him from the woman that had been pestering his dreams in the last ten years of his life. He had to know that she was alright. To hell with rules! He thought. And by the way, when was the last time he followed one. He had to get out of this place. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his lungs was so strong that his vision started to blur and cold sweat formed on his temples. He lay back down on the bed, aware that in his conditions he couldn’t have gone far before collapsing unconscious on the floor. He promised himself to solve the problem as soon as he had enough strengths, but he couldn't dwell too much on that thought, because sleep was reclaiming his mind again.

~·~·~·~

Time passed very slowly, or so it seemed, but maybe it was simply the fact that every day looked the same. Killian was mostly asleep, probably due to the painkillers introduced through the IV, and when he woke up he couldn't tell how long he had been out, he couldn't even tell if it was day or night. There were no windows in that room.

During one of the moments when his mind regained consciousness, he felt the mattress drop slightly to one side and he slowly opened his eyes.

“You are awake! How do you feel? Can you breathe? Of course you can, you would be dead otherwise! Does it hurt?” Henry was sitting at the end of the bed, and he was asking a lot of questions, as usual. “Sorry.” He suddenly looked contrite. “I should let you rest, but…”

“It’s ok, lad.” Killian cut him off. “I’m glad to see you’re all in one piece.”

The boy greeted him with a wide grin.

Killian remembered the last moments before getting injured, and he was relieved to know that he had been able to prevent that rock from hitting Henry. But other worries crowded his mind. “How about your mom?”

“She’s fine. She’s outside. They won’t let her in. You know, only relatives and all that stuff.” He explained.

“I see. And why are you…?”

Henry didn’t let him finish the question. “I told them I’m your son.” He whispered with a conspiratory smile.

“Clever boy.” Killian’s chuckle turned soon into a cough due to the pain.

“Does it hurt?” The boy asked, frowning.

The man dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. “It’s not a big deal.” He didn’t want the lad to feel responsible for his well-being. “How many days have passed since we landed here?” He asked, changing the subject.

“I don't know exactly.” And at Killian’s questioning look, he added, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“People live underground here,” The boy started to explain, “With no opportunity to look outside. And there are no clocks. My watch had probably broken when we arrived, it doesn’t work anymore.”

The man hummed, he was starting to understand. The lack of windows, the elusive answer he had received from the dark-haired nurse… everything was beginning to tally in Killian’s head. “I want you to think carefully about everything you saw outside this room. Did you feel something was wrong?”

The boy shrugged. “I don't know.” He seemed to ponder. “This place is strange. Lots of corridors and passages underground. We are not allowed to go out into the open. They say it’s dangerous. But I never felt a threat or something. I would rather say it’s boring.”

“Why boring?”

Henry was trying to find the right words to explain it. “All the days are the same, people repeat the same actions every day. They say it’s useful to maintain a routine. But I don’t think Mary Margaret and David are bad people.”

“I’m sorry, who?” Killian asked.

“Oh, yeah, Mary Margaret, she is your nurse. We’re staying at her home. She is very nice. And David is her husband. He showed me the greenhouse. It’s awesome and huge, you should see it! But I don’t think he works there. I don’t know what his job is.”

Routine? New people? A greenhouse? Well, that was a lot of information to process. But Killian felt sleep calling him back. Next time I see that lady Margaret, I’m going to ask her not to put more painkillers in my IV. He thought. “Thank you, Henry, for everything. But I may need to rest for a while now.” He managed to say before falling asleep again.

~·~·~·~

Emma knew Killian was feeling better, Henry had told her about their short chat, and some of her child's enthusiasm had even infected her positively, but she continued to feel restless, she wanted to make herself useful. Most of all, she wanted to see Killian again.

All this absurd situation was her fault. And no, she was not thinking about the fact that Killian was lying on a hospital bed because of some bad decisions she had made lately. No. She was not going down that path again. She had already spent a lot of hours regretting many choices done in the last month.

But this was nonsensical, why couldn’t she visit a friend that was hurt and maybe in need of some company? She had actually had a chance to say that she was his wife; after all in the eyes of her guests, she and Killian had a son together, so why not lie a bit more and make Mary Margaret believe that she and Killian were married. But the thought of a possible long time spent together on this planet feigning to be a happily married couple scared her, and she couldn’t go on with the lie.

So there she was, sitting on a very uncomfortable metal chair in the waiting room. She had spent more hours there than she could count.

David had passed by to greet his wife, and he had offered to take Henry with him, on the way back home. So she was left alone with her thoughts.

Mary Margaret peeked out the door with a steaming mug in her hand. “Take this. It will help.”

She agreed with a nod. “Thank you.” She sipped some of the hot liquid and it felt like her nerves were starting to relax a little.

“You should go home and rest. It's late.” The woman said.

“Mary Margaret let me enter.” Emma pleaded for the umpteenth time.

“We have already talked about it. You know I can’t do that. There are strict rules down here, and the best way for us to survive is to follow them.”

“This is insane. I’m not a dangerous criminal or someone who is plotting to destroy this planet. I just want to see him. Please.” She begged.

The dark-haired woman seemed to be pondering all the possible consequences. “All right.” She sighed. “Let’s just say that I’m going inside and leave the door ajar, by mistake, of course. I have to check some very important documents, so I’ll be busy and concentrated. I’m not going to ask you what you’re going to do in the next... fifteen minutes or so. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Emma handed her the cup back, rising from her chair. “You won’t regret it.”

After Mary Margaret disappeared behind the door, Emma waited some minutes before going after her. The room was large and there were many beds, she had no idea where Killian was, but after a quick look at the surroundings, she discovered that only a couple of all the beds were occupied.

She approached one of those and gently opened the curtain trying not to disturb the patient lying inside.

Killian seemed asleep. He was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. She could only imagine the pain he was going through. She had her heart in her throat because she felt responsible for the situation. If they hadn't taken a detour because she had requested it, they'd probably all be home safe and sound by now.

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted her with a painful grin.

Immersed as she was in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed that he had woken up. She smiled, trying to be strong and not show her inner turmoil. “Do they treat you well here?”

“I'm not complaining. The nurse is kind and the food is edible.” He tried to downplay the situation. “Although I would prefer the care and attention of a certain blonde.” He winked.

Emma chuckled. Then she went closer to him and sat down on the side of his bed, trying not to cause him any more pain. She looked him straight in the eye, and then, gently, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his. She saw him swallow hard, and the beeping of his heartbeat accelerated on the monitor. She smiled softly again. “Thank you for saving my son’s life.”

She saw how he wet his lips before answering as if his mouth had been suddenly dry. “It was the right thing to do.” Was his answer, but his voice came out slightly choked.

Emma looked back, checking if any hospital employee was nearby, “I shouldn’t be here, and unfortunately my time is running out. But I wanted to see you... needed to see with my own eyes that you are ok... well, more or less.” She whispered, with her gaze lowered, avoiding eye contact. The physical connection of their joined hands was already arousing too many contradictory emotions inside her.

“Aye. I know the feeling.” He replied, letting her know that he had been eager to establish contact with her throughout his stay in the hospital.

At those words, she stared at him again. “Get well soon.” She bent down and dropped a mild kiss at the corner of his lips. “We need you.”

~·~·~·~

Killian was lying on his back staring at the ceiling. This time there was no way he would fall asleep again. Every time he thought about what had just happened his beeping monitor sped up. He blushed. It had been just a chaste kiss, nothing compared to the hot and breathtaking one they had shared a few days before. But she had said it had been a one-time thing and he had promised himself not to indulge in those lustful thoughts anymore. Yet, this last kiss had seemed much more real, and meaningful... it had left him with a feeling of hope.

Hope and distress. Emma was such a strong and beautiful woman, a marvelous creature, as he liked to describe her in his mind, and a princess even. And what was he? A rebel, and a scoundrel. Or a rapscallion... whatever. Okay, maybe not anymore, but he had been in the past, for many years. He had been trying to redeem himself lately. But was he worth enough of her? That was the million dollar question.

He was still ruminating on it when the known brunette peeked out the curtains. “Hello. How are you today?” She greeted him with a bright smile, as usual.

“Better.” He hoped the monitor on his right wasn’t showing his state of mind.

She came closer. “Do you mind if I check your ribs? It's time to change the dressing.” After a short pause, she added, “I'm sorry, but we don't have the best equipment to assist our patients. We have to work with what we have available on this planet.” She said pointing to the bands that covered his chest.

Killian nodded, and Mary Margaret started to untie the bandages. She seemed concentrated on her task, probably she was trying to avoid causing him any pain. It was only when she started to apply an ointment on the bruises, that she spoke again. “You love her.” It was just a whisper, and Killian doubted if he had heard correctly. But then she added “Emma.”

It wasn’t a question, and he pondered what was the correct answer, or if she was expecting one. “I'd go to the end of the world for her… Or the multiverse.” He said eventually.

“And she for you, I take it?”

Killian chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“What’s the problem?” She looked at him surprised. Then took some clean gauzes and started to wrap them on him.

“She's bloody brilliant, an amazing woman. She fights for her son and always does what’s right.” Killian’s voice was so full of admiration.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Mary Margaret inquired.

Killian shook his head again. “She raised the bar very high. The fact is, I don't think I measure up.”

The woman folded the old bandages and took the ointment bottle, then she stood up, she was making an exit when she stopped short. “Since you came here I've been watching you.”

“I don't know if I should be flattered or scared.” The man tried to ease the tension of the moment.

“We don’t have many foreigners on this planet, but believe me, you're not one of the bad guys. You sacrificed yourself for the sake of a young boy. There's good in your heart.” She smiled at him softly. “I’m going to look for the doctor; I bet you’ll be leaving this room soon.”

~·~·~·~

The following day started the same as the previous ones. But during the first hours of the evening a man in a white coat came to visit Killian. He explained the medications and precautions to be taken to him, some movements that he should avoid for a while, and other tips for a speedy recovery. Then he handed over some papers for the patient to sign to be discharged. Finally some good news.

After a while redressing and packing up his few belongings in his satchel Killian went to the door. Walking hurt a bit but nothing he couldn’t bear.

Mary Margaret was already waiting for him, and a tall blonde guy was with her. “You must be Jones.” He said. When they shook hands, Killian learned his name was David Nolan, and he remembered Henry had mentioned him in his conversations. “I’m going to take you to our humble abode.”

Nolan's house was in fact modest. A loft with a large dining room, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a small bathroom on one corner, all open, without doors, except for the bathroom. There was a raised bedroom opposite it, whose access was a metal stair.

Dinner was good, if a little awkward. Emma didn't interact much, and Killian wanted to ask if something was troubling her, but he preferred to wait for a better time, perhaps a less crowded one. Henry entertained them with what he had done throughout the day and kept repeating how glad he was that Killian was back with them.

But the man was still a bit cautious with those new people around him. He didn’t know them, especially the Nolan guy, who had been silent for most of the dinner, glancing sidelong at him as if he wanted to study him thoroughly before making a personal judgment. The feeling was mutual, Killian thought.

Just after dessert, David started to speak. “What will you need to restore your ship?” He asked.

“Uh… a new stabilizer, I think, and some parts of the propulsion engine for sure. But I’ll have to look closely at the damages to be sure there’s nothing else broken.”

The blond man nodded. “Not many ships come and go from here. But I hope we can find all the pieces you need.”

“Thank you, mate.”

“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the hangar where your ship is. We’ll have a look at it.” He seemed sincere in his generosity.

“May I help?” Henry barged in.

A chorus of “No!” echoed the room.

“I appreciate the support, but it could be dangerous.” Killian explained.

“I hate being here. I feel trapped.” The boy complained.

Mary Margaret sighed. “This is a feeling that will vanish with time.”

The woman was no doubt trying to instill some optimism, but Killian didn't like the idea of staying in that place longer than necessary. “Well, then, let’s hope we could leave this planet before the feeling has entirely vanished.” He made a grin and passed his hand on his side.

“Time for resting.” The brunette stated although it sounded more like an order. “But before that, we should change those bandages. Emma, would you like to help me?”

“Me?” Emma, who had been silent and a bit on the sidelines all evening, seemed to re-emerge from wherever she’d gone.

“He won’t be able to do it by himself when you won’t live here anymore. It’s better if you learn how to help him.” Mary Margaret clarified.

Emma looked like she was going to object, but in the end, she asserted. “Sure.”

~·~·~·~

If a certain nervousness had taken hold of Emma as she climbed to the upstairs room, it disappeared the instant Mary Margaret helped Killian get rid of his shirt. That wasn’t a thorax, it was a nautical chart. Most of it was covered by gauze, but she could still spot many marks and scars.

There was a tattoo, two of them to be exact, but Emma saw just one at first. It was on his right forearm; it was a big red heart with a dagger running through and the name “Milah” across it. Emma made a mental note to ask him later who she was.

Mary Margaret showed her how to unfasten the bandages, and then she ordered her to stand behind him, to help better in removing them all.

On his back, Emma saw the second tattoo, on his right shoulder. It was an old nautical instrument she had read about in a book when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember the exact name. The drawing was beautifully detailed, even if it had faded, it was probably older than the other one, she thought.

And when all the gauze was out of the way, she saw them: tiny, blurred, old scars that studded most of his back. Emma wondered what kind of life he had to endure when he was very young.

Mary Margaret asked her to help with the ointment. She had already opened the bottle and was showing the blonde woman how much cream to use. But Emma wasn't listening, standing now in front of the man, her attention was caught by the glorious chest hair that was covering most of his torso.

Okay, there was also a big, horrible bruise on his right ribs, but Mary Margaret was saying that it seemed on the way to a fast recovery, if the yellow and purple veining was some indication.

Emma was ogling and she wasn’t ashamed of it either. The amount of hair decreased in the lower part of his chest, leaving a black trail that disappeared under the hem of his pants.

"See something you like?" Emma was abruptly taken back to reality by a smug Killian that was smirking at her while arching an eyebrow. She blushed. She was caught red-handed, but she couldn’t let him win. She took advantage of the fact that Mary Margaret was looking for something in a nearby drawer, to get closer to him. She looked at him lasciviously from under her lashes. “Maybe?” She purred.

Now it was his time to blush, he looked intently at his feet, but she found the bright red that appeared on his ears extremely endearing. Point for Emma.

Mary Margaret taught the other woman how to fix the bandages, and Emma had to use some tiny hooks to hold them together. She did not miss the opportunity to casually slide her fingers over a part of his chest hair that came out of the bandages.

“Bloody Hell!” Killian muttered.

Emma retreated her hand immediately. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” Worries that she had done something wrong clouded her gaze.

“Apologies.” Killian was scratching behind his ear, in evident embarrassment. “While I do enjoy two lovely ladies attending to my needs, I'm not used to someone taking care of me…” He smiled and brought his mouth close to Emma’s ear: “I’m usually the one who devotes full attention to a woman’s needs.” He whispered, but clearly not as quietly as he would have liked, because Mary Margaret's answer - “Well, you will have to put that off for a while” - made him blush again like a schoolboy scolded by his teacher.

~·~·~·~

Suddenly it was bedtime. Everyone was busy making preparations and taking shifts for the bathroom to change for the night. Killian was upstairs, staring at the bed he knew he had to share with Emma, who was arranging a pillow on the nearby sofa. He passed a hand through his hair and then scratched a spot behind his right ear. “I'll crash on that couch.” He stated as if it was the most logical conclusion to a battle he was fighting inside.

“Don't be ridiculous,” she scoffed. “It's barely long enough for Henry. Plus, you’re still recovering, you absolutely need to rest.”

He didn't seem very convinced. “Emma, I'm not sure this is a good idea.”

“And why is that?” Was her exasperated reply, turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do? Seduce me with a couple of broken ribs and a ten-year-old boy sleeping next to us?”

He lifted his arms and surrendered. “Fair point.” He conceded.

In no time they were all ready for the night and Henry was snoring softly on the sofa. Killian was supine, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the events of the day. In any case, sleep had no intention of coming, but he tried not to move. He didn’t want to wake up his roommates. Emma was lying close with her back to him and he didn’t know if she was already in the arms of Morpheus.

He turned his head to observe how her upper body moved with the rhythm of her breathing, blond curls covering her shoulders. Killian had to repress the urge to touch them. And as if responding to his call, she stirred and turned to face him.

Her eyes opened lazily. “Still awake?” She murmured.

“I have the feeling that I’ve slept enough for the rest of my life.” He whispered. “But you can’t rest either, I see.”

She didn’t answer.

Perhaps it was the closeness, perhaps it was the fact that they had spent the last few days apart. Killian didn't know how he found the courage, but he lifted his left arm as an invitation. “Come here,” he said.

She seemed to ponder the situation, chewing her bottom lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He decided not to think about all the possible implications of that sentence. He was falling in love with her, he was aware of it. Probably the simple doubt that she might not reciprocate was already hurting him, but he knew that at that moment she was referring only to his physical bruises. “You won’t.”

She slipped under the sheets towards him, resting her head gently on his left shoulder and placing a hand on his chest, avoiding the bruised part. Not many minutes passed before her lids grew heavy and she dozed off to the rhythm of his heartbeats. Killian placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternative universe #science fiction #space au #my writing

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dreamersleeps · 3 years

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Feathers of Truth and Judgement

Ma’at and the Weighing of the Heart: Revisiting the Death of Jin Bubaigawara

Before I begin, this may not make any sense if you are not familiar with some of what I’ve written about. This is an add on to my post about the interesting similarities between Hawks’ character and the Egyptian God Horus.

Recap: Tokoyami, Hawks and Endeavor

To recap what I’ve already written previously, there are most definitely Greek/Roman mythological influences in BNHA but there are also Egyptian ones as well most explicitly through Tokoyami Fumikage who basically looks like how Egyptian dieties were portrayed: the head of an animal and the body of a human. Additionally, he has a move named after an Egyptian symbol, the Ankh and his quirk, Dark Shadow is basically a version of the Egyptian concept of the shadow, called shut/swt.

And so I began looking at where else there may be some interesting similarities between BNHA and Egyptian mythology, and eventually started making some connections between Hawks and Horus, and Endeavor and Ra, the Sun God that fit the narrative and symbolism of the two characters. Whether they are mere coincidences or unintentional, I still think that it is interesting to look at and consider. So here we are.

The Egyptian Underworld

The image above is from the Book of the Dead of Ani. Osiris is depicted sitting with Isis and Nephthys behind him.

In Egyptian mythology, Horus is the son of Osiris and Isis. One of the most famous stories tells of how Osiris’ brother Set takes his life, cuts his body in to several pieces and disperses them across Egypt. A spirit can only travel in to the underworld if they are properly embalmed and buried so Horus and Isis travel around and search for the parts of Osiris’ body. (Depending on the source you are looking at, some say that Isis traveled around with her sister Nephthys, and Horus was born after she resurrects Osiris).

Osiris is resurrected and is able to travel to the underworld where he becomes the Egyptian Lord of the Underworld, and the Judge of the Dead.

Why am I bringing up Osiris? Well his son, Horus is important in relating back to Hawks and Endeavor, but he also leads us to another important deity who I will introduce later. Back when I was gathering information to work with, I noticed that there was some interesting bits about the Afterlife and Judgement process I wanted to add in but to keep it simple, I cut that part out. However, I thought that this was too interesting to not post about.

The Egyptian Afterlife and Judgement

In order to illustrate and explain what the ancient Egyptians believed happened after an individual passed, I included a large excerpt below from the World History Encyclopedia:

In the Egyptian Book of the Dead it is recorded that, after death, the soul would be met by the god Anubis who would lead it from its final resting place to the Hall of Truth.

When it came one’s turn, Anubis would lead the soul to stand before Osiris and the scribe of the gods, Thoth in front of the golden scales. The goddess Ma’at, personification of harmony and balance, would also be present and surrounded by the Forty-Two Judges who would consult with these gods on one’s eternal fate.

The soul would then recite the Negative Confessions in which one needed to be able to claim, honestly, that one had not committed certain sins. The negative declarations, always beginning with “I have not...” or “I did not...”, following the opening prayer went to assure Osiris of the soul’s purity. Each sin listed was thought to have disrupted one’s harmony and balance while one lived and separated the person from their purpose on earth as ordained by the gods.

Anubis or Qebhet, his daughter weighs a human’s soul against the weight of the feather of Ma’at while Osiris watches on, Isis and Nephthys behind him.

The ‘heart’ of the soul was handed over to Osiris who placed it on a great golden scale balanced against the white feather of Ma’at, the feather of truth on the other side. If the soul’s heart was lighter than the feather then the gods conferred with the Forty-Two Judges and, if they agreed that the soul was justified the person could pass on toward the Field of Reeds, or paradise.

If the heart proved heavier, it was thrown to the floor of the Hall of Truth where it was devoured by Amenti/Amut. Once the person’s heart is devoured, the individual soul ceased to exist (The ancient Egyptians had no concept that is equivalent to the Judeo-Christian hell).

I’m sure you’ve identified one of the key highlights from the excerpt above that connects directly to Hawks: Ma’at’s feather. Let’s take a closer look at the deity.

The Goddess Ma’at, the Feather of Truth and Judgment

In ancient Egyptian mythology, Ma’at was the goddess of truth, justice, balance and morality. She is often depicted as a woman, with a feather on her head and/or with wings (as depicted above). She was the daughter of the sun god Ra, and the wife of Thoth, the god of wisdom and the moon.

The feather she wears on her head symbolizes her being and presence. It was a representation of balance and order, and it eventually became a hieroglyph for “truth.”

Truth, truth, truth, what does it have to do with Hawks? Well, Hawks is a man who yearns for the truth. He seeks information out, collects it, and analyzes it. When he was first introduced he was shrouded in mystery, people wondered, was he someone to be trusted?

While he could be very blunt with the truth, he was also very deceptive and good at lying. Truth and knowledge is very intertwined with his character design as we see in his name.

Hawks’ true name, gets revealed to us through Dabi: Takami Keigo. According to the BNHA fandom website, Hawks’ surname translates as:

“hawk” (taka 鷹) + “see, visible, idea” (mi 見 )

While his first name translates as:

“disclose, open, say” (kei 啓) + “enlightenment, understanding” (go 悟).

What does Hawks do with all the information and “truths” he gathers? Well, what do we do when we hear or discover the truth?

We make a judgement.

In the court of law, truths and evidences are used to pass judgement. In ancient Egypt, Ma’at was associated with the law and justice.

The ‘Spirit of Ma’at’ was embodied by the chief judge in charge of the Egyptian law courts. He had a dual role, serving as both a priest and working directly in the law courts and justice system. They wore the feather of Ma’at and all other court officials wore small golden images of the goddess as a sign of their judicial authority, also as a symbol that their judgement would be balanced and fair.

Priests drew the Feather of Ma’at on their tongues with green dye, so that the words they spoke were the truth. They would rule on the earthly punishment according to the nature of the law that had been broken.

Punishments included imposing fines, corporal punishment and in extreme cases capital punishment. It was considered a crime against Ma’at if a person engaged in jealousy, dishonesty, gluttony, laziness, injustice, and ungratefulness (ancient origins).

Hawks’ Fierce Wings quirk gives him the ability to turn his feathers in to weapons as we see below which is quite ironic or absurd to think about.

How can a feather condemn someone to death? Well as we saw earlier, in ancient Egypt, one’s fate was determined by the sins they committed in the life they led, and ultimately the weight of their soul compared to that of the Feather of Ma’at.

We are presented with Jin’s backstory that Hawks was most likely able to dig up through his sources which is how he got to his conclusion.

Similar to the process that takes place in the Hall of Truth, Jin’s past and life is reviewed, gone through, and he see how he came to be the person he was. Hawks calls him unlucky. He believes that Jin is a good person, and can be helped.

The problem is, is that heroes are no supposed to act as the judge, jury or executioner. The main role of heroes is to save, and subdue those who are dangerous, passing them on to the police and courts of law: as Hawks was originally intending to do.

But as Jin continues to resist, Hawks changes his intentions.

Their struggle concludes with the death of Jin Bubaigawara.

The Heroes are not Gods

The ancient Egyptians looked to Ma’at to maintain the balance and harmony between good and evil. She represented the truth and morality, and under her guidance those behind the law passed judgement.

However Hawks is not Ma’at. He is not a god. Instead of acting as a servant of the law, Hawks takes it upon himself to embody and become the law. But on the basis of what exactly? It does not matter because he passes judgement himself. He takes his feather and executes Jin based on what he believes is the truth and justice. We are reminded of this objectiveness through the subtitle of Volume 27: One’s Justice.

For the longest time, heroes basically were perceived as living gods. Even worshipped, to an extent. Quirks set heroes apart from civilians, placing them on top of the pyramid of power. People lived in a hero saturated society, similar as to how the ancient Egyptians lived with their deities being a part of a great majority of their day to day existences. Despite all the interesting connections and parallels that I can write about, especially with Endeavor and Hawks, it does not change the truth that they are still human: as human as the quirkless. Perhaps their greatest fault was that they acted and lived like gods.

As always, thank you for putting in time to read through this post! I appreciate it. Manga panels throughout this post are from Chapters 264, 265, and 291

#hawks #takami keigo #twice #jin bubaigawara #bnha analysis #mha analysis #bnha meta #mha meta #mythological influences #bnha #mha #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #luna writes #my post

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gear-project · 3 years

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GGMiscQandA STRIVE Edition!

After all this time, I've decided to write about my compiled thoughts and "questions" that some people have yet to ask about the FINAL chapter of Guilty Gear such as it is:

And while there's still a lot of gaps in the story that have yet to be answered... I'd like to discuss the 'mysteries' that are more obvious and present in the story right now:

SPOILERS, in case you didn't know by now:

Asuka R. Kreutz:

---He Merged with the Tome of Origin, but after the events that occurred, we don't really know what he's doing now. Did he really use Tir na Nog to go in to Space? Is he running a Space Radio Station?

Heck, what kind of music would Asuka play on his Radio Station?

Has Mankind forgiven him for his past? Does Baiken still hold a grudge against him?

Sol Badguy/Frederick Bulsara:

---"Sol" stated that even with the Flame of Corruption Divine Seed removed from his body... he wasn't entirely human... so what does that ACTUALLY mean? Is he still immortal? And what exactly did Asuka DO with the Seed once it was extracted? We don't even know.

---"Sol" still seems to be in contact with Ky, so it's obvious that even if he's living in Iseo (Illyria), he's probably got a cosey job as a Scientist/Engineer for his "Jazz" Junkshop.

Jack-O'Valentine/Aria Hale:

---Jack-O' tried to use up her power to stop I-No's powers, but we don't really know what happened to the Scales of Juno in the process... I-No said the "Scales" were "gone", but we don't really know what happened exactly.

---The "Aria" that was inside Jack-O' was only a fragment/copy of Aria's memories and apparently it had no emotions, and yet Sol chose to accept it anyway... but what about the "fragment" that was Justice? Does that piece still exist in some way?

---Up to that point, Jack-O' was working as a Bounty Hunter with Sol... but are they fully retired/on permanent vacation?

Faust:

---After Revelator's events it was suggested he was going to find a cure for the Japanese' Ki Overflow Syndrome, but it was never once addressed in Strive... only that he was still hanging out with Chronus (former Conclave member)... exactly what does his journey entail? Will he perhaps run in to Happy Chaos along the way?

Chipp Zanuff:

---He seems to be training May to use Dodomezaki as her training partner... we don't know how far that relationship will go... but it's possible May will learn some form of Ninjutsu later on.

---We still don't know his connection with Bedman's sister Delilah or how he gained that information (unless it was through Answer's information network).

---It seems that Anji Mito is now "working" for Chipp at this point as a subordinate, though we don't know how that came to be.

---Chipp seems to want to recruit Nagoriyuki to his cause, though we don't know what will come of that.

Gold-Lewis Dickinson:

---To clarify, he isn't the same as the Burger Sheriff we first saw in Xrd Sign (though he does end up eating a burger from Danny Missiles).

---Apparently he 'knows the weakness' of the being inside the coffin he carries around, which causes it to obey every command he gives it? He claims it's NOT an Alien, even if everyone else considers it an Extra-Terrestrial.

Potemkin:

---The mechanical suit he was piloting towards the end of the story was apparently called the Vidia... but does it have any connection with the woman named Viidia in Guilty Gear Begin?

Ky Kiske:

---It seems that Ky is under observation by the Newly Reformed Conclave, though we don't know who they are or their origins. They still appear to be connected to both the United Nations and the Postwar Administration Bureau.

---Side note: King Daryl apparently utilized Director Millia Rage as head of the new PWAB as his new "information network". They seem to have access to intelligence that suggests that Illyria's technology was responsible for building Project Tir na Nog (the White House). Just what other secrets is PWAB responsible for?

---King Leo still hasn't "gone back home" to his purview yet... and we have yet to meet his Sister!

---Ky has yet to announce his 'family' in G4's proceedings, so hopefully that will go well.

I-No/Megumi Saito/Axl Low/Will Bruce Rose

---We've established that these two have a connected history, but the real mystery (while mostly resolved) still hasn't explained what will happen to Axl and Megumi moving forward. Does Axl still have his powers? Does Megumi have powers now? Just what will happen to them from now on? Southern Autonomous Oceanic Federation/Chinese Federation

---We know next to nothing about this region of the world or their intentions.

---It's said that Australia is known as a Gear nature preserve of sorts, but that's still something that has yet to be fully explained.

---Side note: Faust is rumored to have origins in China, but his full story has never delved in to that side of his history.

Happy Chaos/Happy Chaos Valentine

---According to what we are led to understand, he gave I-No back her powers in full, but he still seemed to "exist" despite the risk that Asuka warned him about (that he could disappear).

So just what are his intentions from here on out? Where will he go from here?

---His goal appears to be to maintain humanity's sense of humility and powerlessness as 'humans', though what that means in the end stage, is entirely unknown.

---Happy Chaos Valentine was originally Asuka's construct, but 'she' was never completed, and meant to merge with I-No... so does she look like Megumi Saito at this point? Will she ever 'exist'?

---Related note: Dizzy is still a 'replica' of Justice for all intents and purposes... her power still poses a technical threat if anyone were to take advantage of it against her will... even someone like Happy Chaos could manipulate Dizzy if he wanted to. Hopefully things won't come to that.

Universal Will/Merciless Revelator/Merciless Apocalypse

---Ariels appears to have had her personality completely altered upon purging Happy Chaos from her body... but just what is she at this point now? A Valentine? A Gear? What will humanity do with her now, especially given her powers?

Of course, there's much more to consider, but I wanted to list my current thoughts and things I'm focusing on in the future aspects of the story going forwards.

Even if Sol's story has ended 'for the time being'... that doesn't mean the legend of Sol Badguy is over just yet!

#GGMiscQandA #GGStrive #GGST #GG Mysteries

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thefreelanceangel · 3 years

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Shadowbringers Is Finally Ended

With Patch 5.55 and the official end of the Shadowbringers story, setting up now for Endwalker in November, there are now a few months ahead to grind gear, finish content and reflect on the most recent expansion.

And, without any hyperbole, I can say definitively that I have never in my life been as impressed with a game's writing as I have that of Shadowbringers, both the original expansion and a lot of the patch content. I have... thoughts.

I'm a bit of an outlier; I skipped Stormblood (oops) and went straight from completing Heavensward (which greatly impressed me at the time and still does) into Shadowbringers because I wanted to get a max level character already.

Within the first few cutscenes of Shadowbringers, I was absolutely hooked.

First, let me just say that "monstrous angels" is 100% My Thing. I ADORE the reinterpretation of the standard "Renaissance art angelic figures" into something closer to incomprehensible beings taking on twisted, terrifying appearances. The human mind is a finite thing and comprehending an angel would be as difficult as comprehending infinity; these are things so alien to our experience that assuming they'd be easy to grasp and familiar feels disingenuous to me.

So the sin-eaters and the Lightwardens? SLAP.

Also, the intent behind the usage of "Light" in Shadowbringers was deliberate and purposeful. Our Lord and Savior, Yoshi-P, stated this clearly in his Forbes interview.

"The inception of this idea was very simple: in recent fantasy works, the perception that light equates to good and dark equates to evil is very set in stone, we wanted to shake this up a bit.

"Until this point in Final Fantasy XIV, our players have been Warriors of Light: the hero. However, with Shadowbringers, we leave the Source and embark on a journey to the First, and through this I want our players to discover the truth of the world, as well as think about the real nature of light and dark. That is the theme of Shadowbringers.

"In any case, a light too strong could potentially become evil. Darkness and night are also necessary for the world to maintain its balance; that's the kind of theme we will be shedding light on."

And the themes in Shadowbringers had such an amazing resonance that they were both painfully clear and masterfully executed. Not only was the theme of "balance" clearly executed in the "returning Darkness to a world flooded by Light" goal, but the desire for players to "think about the real nature of light and dark" showed in a multitude of ways.

The Warriors of Light (who we met as the Warriors of Darkness in Heavensward) are, in their home world, reviled. They directly caused the Flood which nearly destroyed their home and although they were able to save it with personal sacrifice, the populace at large is unaware of that sacrifice. The motives behind what the Warriors did is essentially lost to history; all that remains is the perception of their actions and the results thereof.

Motives, however, which you (player and WoL) are privy to.

"At long last, you see. To save our world, we gave our lives. We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there—we never aspired to be Warriors of Light. But word of our deeds spread, and soon people were calling us heroes. They placed their hopes and dreams on our shoulders and bid us fight for all that was good and right. We fought and we fought and we fought...until there was no one left to fight. We won...and now our world is being erased from existence. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this! You of all people should understand! We cannot—we will not falter. We brought our world to the brink of destruction, and now we must save it."

You had that fight with the Warriors of Darkness. You heard Ardbert explain exactly what happened, how they came to the point where they faced off against you, and you saw what happened when they were given the choice to hold back the Flood. And you were there when the one favor Ardbert asked was for the Warriors of Darkness to be taken home.

You see how the First remembers them and it's stark contrast to the heroes you met who were fighting desperately to save people who now spit on their names. History quite clearly has two sides and which you believe is dependent entirely on what information you have.

This becomes even more of a clear theme when you meet Emet-Selch and learn more about the Calamity which led to the entire Zodiark/Hydaelyn duality. Here, your previous experiences with Ascians has painted them solely as "villains." They are established enemies, manipulating events and people in order to attain goals which, to you, are nothing but Calamities.

And yet, as you learn more about the original Source and the Amaurotines that once lived on it, these goals are painted in an entirely new light. Instead of merely seeking to wipe out "the world" for no apparent reason or, at best guess, greater power for their deity Zodiark, the Ascians were striving to repair the damage done by the original Sundering. They, in a manner of speaking, were doing what the Warriors of Darkness were. What you, the Warrior of Light, have been doing. They were trying to restore what was lost.

Which leads into another of Shadowbringers' major themes: grief and loss.

The earliest touches of this are in Alisaie's questlines where you learn about what happens to people tainted by the Light. Families are destroyed, people are transmuted into sin-eaters and those who avoid that fate must stand by and watch as their loved ones fall to something far worse than death. "A Purchase of Fruit" shows you exactly what the end result is while also highlighting something very specific: with no hope of removing the Light's taint, knowing that all that awaits the tainted is a painful transmutation and existence as a sin-eater, those untainted make the best they can of those last days and end the tainted individual's pain before it begins.

Grief, yes. Loss? Absolutely. And yet, this is a loving, compassionate thing that those in Amh Araeng are doing. They face their own grief and loss. Rather than refusing to accept the actuality of their circumstances or refuse to weigh themselves down with taking a decisive action, they make the choice to face their grief and loss directly, even willingly taking on the guilt of their actions rather than leaving the tainted to suffer.

Magnus in Twine lost his wife and son, which immobilizes him. He can't find solance in anything save alcohol and brooding over their graves. It takes outside interference to pull him directly from his grief, to help him see past the loss of his family and look towards the future where life might once again be worth living. His struggle with grief is painfully familiar and so very, very close to many real life struggles that it's extremely poignant.

This struggle with grief is the fight the Ascians are, without question, losing. Let's set aside the "tempering" argument when it comes to Emet-Selch and Elidibus for the moment, largely because it's actually quite true that grief can spur people into committing horrific acts either as a desperate attempt to assuage their own pain (revenge) or make 'things right' in some way (vengeance).

Emet-Selch does not, in fact, properly grieve for Amaurot and the Ancients he knew. He clings to them, as Hythlodaeus tells us, weighed down by an aching sense of loss.

"And though he may carry himself with a certain glib ease, Emet-Selch is not a man to bear his burdens lightly. In fact, I imagine they have only grown heavier with every passing century. ...T'is truly a terrible weight he has chosen to carry."

Quite significantly is the word "chosen" in that. Grief is a process that involves, eventually, letting go of the pain and living with the memories of what was loved and what no longer is. Emet-Selch chooses not to do that. He does not grieve for Amaurot and his lost loved ones; he refuses, no matter how often he mentions his loss, to admit that what is gone is gone.

Elidibus, rather similarly, refuses to accept that the duty he took on when called upon to become Zodiark's heart is finally at an end. That the world he and Emet-Selch originated from is gone. Although he admits that he can barely remember why he's set on this path, he refuses to turn away from him.

One won't forget, one can barely remember--neither will grieve and let go.

Even the Ascians' characteristic arrogance and disdain for what they consider "lesser beings" is easy to read as their long-lasting struggle with grief. Considering the Sundering, all the beings that the Ascians are so disdainful of are, in fact, echoes of that which they once knew. If they acknowledged that, accepted those beings as what they are and perhaps even admitted they had worth... well... Rather like realizing abruptly that you've spent a whole day without thinking of someone recently departed, it feels like a betrayal.

To find value in the worlds as they currently are, to turn away from the duty they were asked to uphold, to choose to lay down the memories of the past are all, in essence, choices the Ascians will not make because to do so would be to let go of what's lost, to move into the acceptance of grief and that can feel like betraying those whose memories are slowly fading.

Emet-Selch's end--"Remember us."--is directly tied to his refusal to forget. To let himself have even one day without hoping for an eventuality that's highly unlikely regardless of effort, without remembering the Sundering and the Final Days. He remembered, forcefully and tenaciously, and wishes that legacy to live beyond him.

While Elidibus, in remembering, unable to deny failure any longer, finally expresses grief and loss. "My people. My brothers. ...My friends. Stay strong. Keep the faith. At duty's end, we will meet again. We will. We will. The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it."

And coming from villains, quite specifically from villains that have been largely indistinct "puppet master" figures throughout the previous expansions, these story arcs were a punch to the gut. (Yes, I had to pause writing this to cry helplessly over Elidibus again because my gods, that last line just...) Villains are at their best in fiction when they're relatable. When it's so very easy to see that thin line between villain and hero.

Faced with the loss of everything you'd ever loved, with the faintest possibility of getting it back, what would you do? What wouldn't you do? Yes, the Ascians did terrible things and that's undeniable. Stopping them was necessary to save hundreds of thousands of lives. And doing so, being victorious, didn't feel like a victory and that is such a rare, rare thing in media. The Warrior of Light does the right thing, but in doing so, must face the fact that those they've been fighting have hopes and dreams and feelings and pain as real and as motivating as theirs.

And Shadowbringers does such an impressive job of turning those standard tropes around. Heroes are a dime a dozen because if you just awaken them, as Elidibus did with the starshower, well, there can be dozens of Warriors running around. Villains have heart-wrenching motivations and relatable reasons for their goals. History is multi-faceted and no one person knows what the "truth" truly is. Grief can spur people to helping others (i.e. the tank Role Quest ending) or it can fester and go unhealed and create nothing but more destruction.

There is so much that Shadowbringers did beautifully, I don't have the time to touch on all of it. The lack of "breaking the flawed system fixes everything" trope following Eulmore's liberation from Vauthry and the struggles that Eulmore faces in trying to build a functional, working social order for themselves. Embracing the value of childish dreams and tending to the smallest, most overlooked victims of trauma with the Pixie Tribal Quests. Dealing with a commander whose soldiers died and seeing Lyna's survivor's guilt. Seeing how having a single, unified goal can inspire and rally people into putting differences aside and helping each other.

Shadowbringers has finally ended with Patch 5.55. The story on the First ended with Patch 5.3. And all I can say is that this is a game that I will never forget.

#Shadowbringers #FFXIV #OOC #Yes I had A Lot of Thoughts

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heartofether · 3 years

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Episode 13 - Dog with a Bone TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[INCREASINGLY SLOWLY] Please state your message.

[THEME SONG PLAYS.]

VAL

Three-eyed Frog Presents: The Heart of Ether.

[THEME SONG FADES TO A STOP.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. AGENTS MAY AND JUNES’ COMPANY VEHICLE, DRIVING INTO DAUGHTLER, WASHINGTON, MIDDAY.]

[THE TWO ARE HEARD DRIVING THROUGH THE TOWN.]

AGENT MAY

This is the audio log of Operation Saturn, phase 1.2. Investigation taking place in Daughtler, Washington, 2019. Set to last for two months minimum. This is day one. Conducted by Agents May and June. All recordings are legal property of the Harper Foundation. Any unauthorized access to these recordings will result in—

AGENT JUNE

[OVERLAPPING] Does Daughtler know no God? That church is crumbling like a communion wafer!

AGENT MAY

Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

I’m just saying! You’d think for a place of worship, they’d take better care of it. Basic maintenance, maybe a new paint job.

AGENT MAY

Well, I guess the people of Daughtler aren’t particularly religious.

AGENT JUNE

Oh, not that I care. I’m an atheist. Raised in a Catholic household, which went about as well as—

AGENT MAY

Look, in the future, could you please avoid speaking over me when we’re recording important information?

AGENT JUNE

What important information? We just got here.

AGENT MAY

Well, if we’re going to be constantly on the record, I would like to maintain some level of professionalism.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh. Hate to break it to you, bud, but if you expect me to shut up for this whole mission, I think you will be greatly disappointed. I am, you see, constantly burdened by great ideas—trust me, it’s exhausting.

AGENT MAY

[SARCASTIC] I’m sure it is.

AGENT JUNE

[AFTER A BRIEF PAUSE, HE SNORTS A LAUGH.] DVD rentals? Dude, who’s renting DVDs in the digital era of pirating—I mean, uh, legally buying and streaming everything online?

AGENT MAY

[DEADPAN] Nice catch.

AGENT JUNE

Anyways, where are we heading first? I’m guessing the motel?

AGENT MAY

Actually, we’re going to make a quick detour. Stop somewhere for a quick interview.

AGENT JUNE

[HE GROANS.] Seriously, dude? We have so much time to do that kind of stuff. Can’t we just, you know, relax for our first day? Settle into Weird Town, USA?

AGENT MAY

I’d like to start this mission off on a good foot. It would be valuable to meet some of the residents, see what they’re like. Besides, this particular individual is important enough that by establishing a relationship early on, it may be beneficial in the long run.

AGENT JUNE

Ugh, fine. Who is our person of the hour, then?

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s less about the person and more about where they’re living.

[A BEAT.]

AGENT JUNE

Yeah, dude. Obviously. They’re living in Daughtler, Washington. You know, the place we’re investigating?

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING] I mean their house.

Agent June, please, please tell me you know who Bernard Kelly Valencia is.

AGENT JUNE

Obviously, dude! That’s like asking a chemistry student if they know what an electron is. [THEN, UNDER HIS BREATH] Actually, I failed chemistry, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy.

But yeah. Bernard Kelly Valencia. Super weird dude that the entire town was kinda freaked by. Supposedly was well-known among the Ether community for his vast range of research conducted with Dorothy Wood. Nobody actually knows where all that work went after he and Dorothy died, though.

AGENT MAY

Actually, it’s possible some of it was left behind in his own house.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, seriously? Didn’t all of his belongings go to his son afterwards?

AGENT MAY

According to the original house plans, there’s an attic. His son, after leaving the house once and for all, never mentioned there being anything in the attic. This could mean it was just empty, but that fact would have to have been noted at some point. His son was thorough in his complaints about clearing his father’s house, from what we could find. It’s possible nobody ever even bothered to look up there.

AGENT JUNE

So you think he had something in his attic that just never got found?

AGENT MAY

That’s what the Foundation believes.

AGENT JUNE

Alrighty, then. That’s not too bad. We just break into a dead guy’s house and pillage through his attic. I mean, how hard can that be?

AGENT MAY

It’s not that simple. There’s a new tenant living there.

AGENT JUNE

Ahh, I see. Do you think they know?

AGENT MAY

Perhaps. There was a recent missing person report linked to the house—an inspector who the landlord sent out to investigate a supposed mold problem.

AGENT JUNE

Classic.

AGENT MAY

Which leads us to believe that the new tenant is at least familiar with Ether—assuming the mold problem was of supernatural origin, which is probable due to the house’s location and the report filed by the landlord describing the mold: yellow, with an odd scent.

AGENT JUNE

So, what’s our plan? Are we just going to go and ask to search the house?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, the Foundation couldn’t acquire a formal search warrant. We’ll have to convince the new tenant to let us in of their own free will.

AGENT JUNE

Who is this person, anyways?

AGENT MAY

Her name is Irene Gray. She’s twenty-one years old. Works as forestry aid.

AGENT JUNE

Do we know anything else about her?

AGENT MAY

Let’s just say the mold inspector isn’t the only missing persons case she’s connected to. Four years ago, an 18-year-old girl named Rosemary Quinn went missing. Officials think it’s likely she ran away. Irene Gray was Rosemary’s girlfriend. The police’s interview with Irene states that the two of them had planned on running away together not long after the date Rosemary had gone missing.

AGENT JUNE

Way to rat your girlfriend out like that.

AGENT MAY

She could have been desperate for any sort of lead, even if that meant getting herself and Rosemary in trouble. And she did get in trouble, I believe, though not with the law, per say. Irene couldn’t have known where Rosemary had gone, though. She was so emotionally devastated after the event, there was little chance she was faking it or lying to cover for Rosemary. She actually started therapy not long after.

AGENT JUNE

So, why does it matter? Did they ever find Rosemary?

AGENT MAY

Unfortunately, no. The official record states that the last place she was potentially seen was a local animal shelter, where she dropped off her cat, whose name she said was Sage. This, however, does not sync up with reports from her family claiming the cat’s name was Sir Griffin the Third, which led to some uncertainty. They had a difficult time tracking her after that, though. All they had to go off of was one potential gas station siting, but all that resulted in was another dead end.

AGENT JUNE

Uh, you still haven’t explained why any of this matters.

AGENT MAY

[FRUSTRATED] Could you just be patient for one— [HE HUFFS A SIGH.]

Look, it’s important because it’s unlikely Irene Gray will let us explore her house if we just ask nicely.

AGENT JUNE

So, we have to use bait?

AGENT MAY

It could be a mutually beneficial relationship, is what I’m saying. We both have something the other wants.

AGENT JUNE

Wait, does the Foundation, like, know what happened to that girl?

AGENT MAY

Not quite, but, potentially. I’ll show you what we have once we stop the car.

AGENT JUNE

Great! This should be interesting.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] I’m sure it will be.

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

[INT. IRENE GRAY’S HOUSE, MIDDAY.]

[IRENE IS ON A PHONE CALL WITH ADEN. ON HIS END OF THE LINE, THERE IS THE LOOPING SOUND OF A BROKEN FAX MACHINE ATTEMPTING, BUT FAILING, TO PROCESS PAPER.]

IRENE

It’s a fax machine. How do you not know how to use a fax machine? I’ve literally watched you do it before.

ADEN

Well, I thought I knew! And I mean, come on, how come you get to judge me when you can’t even use your phone properly?

IRENE

Oh, my god—Aden, it’s my day off. Can’t you just look it up?

ADEN

I don’t know how to describe the problem in a way a search engine will understand. It’s too—you know—specific.

IRENE

Ask someone there, then. Carol and Julia probably know better than I do.

ADEN

Julia’s sick, and Carol’s on some important phone call. Look, I just—if we have to replace this thing and it’s my fault, I’m going to freak out—

IRENE

Okay, wait until Carol gets off the phone and then—

ADEN

[WORRIED] What if it sets on fire or something?

IRENE

[FRUSTRATED] It won’t! It’s probably just jammed.

ADEN

But what if it does?

IRENE

[SNAPPING] Jeez, dude, just go find the manual! Why are you calling me?

ADEN

[PANICKED, STUTTERING] Because I’m panicking, alright? Look, ever, ever since the mold incident, I’ve been so scared constantly of everything. Every tiny thing that happens feels like it’s the end of the world, especially because that dude’s van went missing and it’s like you guys are just constantly waiting for the police to just show up at your door—

IRENE

[HER TONE SOFTENS, GROWING SYMPATHETIC] Oh, Aden—

ADEN

[CONT.] —and you and Carol almost died, and I did nothing. Okay? I sat in my office and talked to the knitted cat on my desk while I had a panic attack and did nothing.

I just want to find some way to, to do good, to fix something, but instead I think I ruined the fax machine and now I’m just failing you and Carol, again.

IRENE

[CHOOSING HER WORDS CAREFULLY] Hey. Look, I—I’m sorry I snapped. It’s not…it’s not that big of a deal.

ADEN

[COMING DOWN, GUILTILY] No, no, you’re right. I shouldn’t have called you on your day off.

IRENE

It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Do you need me to go down there and look at it?

ADEN

No, don’t. I’m kinda starting to calm down, and I think if I can’t find the manual, I’ll just wait until Carol gets off the phone.

IRENE

That’s a good idea.

[A BEAT.] Um, if you need a distraction or anything, we can still talk for a bit. I know how anxiety can be.

ADEN

[SINCERE] That means a lot, Irene. Thank you.

IRENE

Of course.

Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?

ADEN

[A BEAT, THEN, HESITANT] I actually have a question. I’ve been thinking about it for a bit, but if it’s too personal, you don’t have to answer.

IRENE

I mean, I think you’ve already seen me at some pretty low points, so…

ADEN

[HE CHUCKLES.] Alright.

[CAREFULLY] You said you had a girlfriend who went missing.

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yup.

ADEN

What was her name?

IRENE

[A HESITANT BEAT.] Rose. Er, you may have seen the name Rosemary Quinn at some point, but it was years ago.

ADEN

Yeah, I don’t remember. Sorry.

IRENE

It’s fine.

ADEN

What happened to her?

[THERE’S A PAUSE.]

IRENE

[GRIM] We never found out.

For a long time, I’ve thought that she just decided she was sick of her life as it was. Ran away to start a new one without telling anyone where she went. It would have made sense—she had planned on doing it for a while. Even took cash from her savings out in chunks so nobody would be able to track her card when she did. Her mother simply wrote this off as poorly thought-out impulse purchases.

We had planned our entire future together, though, and for her to just throw it out didn’t make sense, it—well… [SHE TRAILS OFF.]

ADEN

I’m sorry.

IRENE

I thought it was her mom at first, though. Grace Quinn. [SHE SAYS THE NAME WITH VENOM.]

They investigated Grace for domestic abuse. Believed Rose ran away to escape a dangerous situation. Upon Rose not answering her bedroom door, Grace, well…broke it down. Rose had locked it before she went out the window, and her mother just—decimated the doorknob to get in. At least, that’s what the police report says.

ADEN

Jeez.

IRENE

Without the child there, however, it was difficult to prove any abuse. I had some texts. Her aunts had a couple of anecdotes. That was all, though. Grace refused to admit to anything, of course.

ADEN

[HESITANT] Was there? Um, was there abuse?

IRENE

[A BEAT.] Yeah.

ADEN

I’m so sorry.

IRENE

It was rarely ever physical, but it definitely happened.

ADEN

I mean, if Rose was trying to escape something, I hope she was safe in the end.

IRENE

[PAUSE, THEN, SOFTLY, ALMOST SAD] I do, too.

[A BEAT.] That wasn’t all, though. Grace acted really strange afterwards. When police asked what had happened the night before, she said she couldn’t remember. Seriously, she didn’t have any concrete details. She said she had just woken up that morning and Rose was gone, but her story kept changing in little ways. It was disorienting.

She seemed…paranoid. Jumpy. Confused, even. Angry, but her anger wasn’t directed anywhere. I might have felt bad for her if just the thought of her hadn’t made my blood boil. I mean, I imagine your daughter going missing has gotta have some sort of effect on you, even if you’re not on good terms with her.

Grace wasn’t entirely there, though. Looking back, it’s a lot more clear. I…know some things, I didn’t know back then. I just, I wonder what was really wrong with her. I haven’t talked to her in years. Certainly not about to start now.

ADEN

I mean, I kinda sympathize with her, but also, she doesn’t sound like a great person.

IRENE

Oh no, she’s horrible. I know I should feel some remorse for all the awful things I’ve said about her, but I don’t. Not really.

When Rose first went missing, I became blinded by rage. I screamed at Grace when I saw her. Cursed in her face. Said it was all her fault, because I was—well, I was scared, and I had no other explanation. My dad had to drag me away before I attacked her.

ADEN

Jeez, Irene.

IRENE

I’m obviously better about my anger management now. Therapy at least did that for me.

ADEN

I mean, I get it. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.

IRENE

Yeah. Um, yeah. [IT SOUNDS LIKE THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE SHE WANTS TO SAY.]

Thanks, Aden.

ADEN

Of course. If you…I mean, I know it’s been a while, but you can always talk to me about it. I’ve said that before, but, y’know.

IRENE

I appreciate it.

[A PAUSE.]

ADEN

I think Carol’s call ended.

IRENE

[TEASING] And did the fax machine catch on fire?

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS.] No. No, it did not.

[IRENE LAUGHS. ANOTHER PAUSE.]

IRENE

[MORE SERIOUS] Aden?

ADEN

Yeah?

IRENE

I’m…I’m working on something. It’s a personal project.

ADEN

[CAUGHT OFF GUARD] Oh. Okay.

IRENE

I don’t think I can tell you what it’s about, but…just so you know. I mean, I trust you, so.

ADEN

That’s—um, that’s fine. Uh, let me know if I can help at all?

IRENE

Sure. I’ll talk to you later.

[AS THEY SPEAK, THERE’S APPROACHING FOOTSTEPS ON ADEN’S END OF THE LINE.]

ADEN

You, too. Thank you again for talking.

IRENE

Not a problem. Bye.

ADEN

Talk to you soon!

CAROL

[IN THE DISTANCE] What did you do to the damn—?

[PHONE BEEP AS ADEN HANGS UP. IRENE SIGHS.]

IRENE

[CONFUSED] Oh, uh. Didn’t realize my phone was recording. [MUTTERS] When did that start? Guess I turned it on at some point.

[A BEAT.] Well, Rose. I’m talking to you now. Not just some figment of you in my head, but, you.

I know you’re going to hear these. I don’t know when, but you will. Of course you will.

[A BEAT.] Only problem is, I’m kind of at a dead end. My only lead so far is a mysterious recording that popped up on my laptop with no explanation. I have no idea how any of those files got there. Do I just have to wait until whatever weird force that gives them to me decides to throw one my way?

It’s like gambling at that point. I don’t know when I’ll get something or if what I find will be helpful or not. I mean, hell, I could get a new file on my computer and it’ll just be some voicemail I sent you sophomore year about baking brownies. Who knows what I’ll find or when I’ll find it?

I have to figure out something more reliable. Maybe figure out where the recordings are coming from, and if I can use whatever it is to my advantage. Or, I don’t know, Phoebe is coming over at some point to look in my attic. Maybe I should just—

[THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE FRONT DOOR.]

IRENE

…huh. Wasn’t expecting anyone.

[IRENE IS HEARD GETTING UP AND WALKING TOWARDS THE DOOR. AS SHE APPROACHES, THE AGENT'S MUFFLED ARGUING IS HEARD, GROWING LOUDER AS SHE GROWS NEAR.]

AGENT JUNE

[MUFFLED] I'm just saying, it could be pretty cool, you know? I'm all like, "Ooh, ahh, no, tell us what we wanna know, and you're like—"

AGENT MAY

[MUFFLED, OVERLAPPING ] June, you're too impressionable by all of these movies that you watch.

[IRENE OPENS THE DOOR, BUT THEY CONTINUE AS IF SHE ISN'T THERE.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] No, no, listen. It could be great, it could be great! We could like, stand back to back, and like, ooh, finger guns—

AGENT MAY

No, I'm not doing finger guns!

IRENE

[OVERLAPPING] Um, can I help you?

AGENT JUNE

[TO AGENT MAY] Okay, but just try it—

AGENT MAY

[HARSHLY CUTTING HIM OFF.] Yes, actually. Is this the residence of Irene Gray?

IRENE

[SKEPTICAL] Who’s asking?

[AGENT MAY IS HEARD FLASHING HIS BADGE.]

AGENT MAY

We’re Agents May and June of The Harper Foundation. We’d like to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.

IRENE

The hell is that?

AGENT JUNE

Ah, see, that’s the point: you’re not supposed to know. [A BEAT.] I mean, well, we do leave kind of cryptic ads in the local paper sometimes, but, still.

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] Agent June.

AGENT JUNE

What? I don’t choose to put those weird ads there!

IRENE

[UNIMPRESSED] …so, what, you’re secret agents?

AGENT MAY

If you’d like to call us that. May we come in?

IRENE

Why?

AGENT MAY

We just need to ask you about a few things. I promise it won’t be long.

IRENE

…are you going to, what, search my house?

AGENT JUNE

You got something to hide?

IRENE

[DEFENSIVE] No! I’m sorry that I value my privacy.

AGENT MAY

We’re not searching your house right now. This will be much easier for all of us if you comply, Ms. Gray.

IRENE

[SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN, DISGRUNTLED] Fine.

AGENT MAY

Thank you.

[IRENE IS HEARD LEADING THE AGENTS INTO HER HOUSE, CLOSING THE DOOR BEHIND THEM. THEIR FOOTSTEPS ARE HEARD AS THEY ENTER.]

AGENT JUNE

It’s a nice place you got here. Oh, wow, did you paint that yourself?

IRENE

It was a gift.

AGENT JUNE

Ah, gotcha, gotcha.

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS THEY STOP WALKING.]

IRENE

Well? Take a seat. Be my guest.

[AGENTS MAY AND JUNE ARE HEARD SITTING AT THE TABLE. THERE ARE TWO LOUD THUNKING NOISES, AS IF SOMEONE IS HITTING THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

Agent June, take your feet off the table.

AGENT JUNE

Sorry, sorry.

[SHUFFLING NOISES AS AGENT JUNE MOVES HIS FEET.]

IRENE

Can I get you both anything to drink?

AGENT JUNE

There are your manners!

AGENT MAY

[UNDER HIS BREATH] You’re one to talk.

AGENT JUNE

Whatcha got?

IRENE

Um, water? I could make coffee? I also have lemonade in the fridge, but that’s for emergencies.

[A PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

I think I’m in the mood for an emergency lemonade. You, Agent May?

AGENT MAY

I’m fine, thanks.

[AS THEY CONTINUE THE CONVERSATION, IRENE IS HEARD GRABBING THE LEMONADE OUT OF THE FRIDGE, TAKING A GLASS FROM THE CUPBOARD, AND POURING JUNE'S DRINK.]

AGENT MAY

How long have you lived here, Ms. Gray?

IRENE

Not long. I moved here for work.

AGENT MAY

And what do you do?

IRENE

[HASTILY] I’m an engineer.

AGENT JUNE

Mm! Enjoying the area so far?

IRENE

It’s nice. The people are friendly.

[SHE SETS AGENT JUNE’S LEMONADE DOWN ON THE TABLE.]

AGENT JUNE

Much obliged.

[HE TAKES A DRINK LOUDLY. IRENE SITS DOWN ACROSS FROM THE TWO OF THEM.]

IRENE

…well? You said you had questions.

AGENT MAY

We’re here to ask you about a missing person.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

IRENE

Which one?

AGENT MAY

Which one are you thinking of?

IRENE

[SHE PAUSES.] Are you talking about Rosemary Quinn?

AGENT MAY

[A TENTATIVE PAUSE.] You and Rosemary were close, correct?

IRENE

Why do you care?

AGENT MAY

I’m asking a question. An answer would be nice.

IRENE

[HESITANT] I knew Rose, yeah.

AGENT MAY

When was the last time you saw her?

IRENE

Um, it was two days before her disappearance, I believe?

Look, this should all be on her file. I don’t see the need to recount this all to you unless they’ve opened the case again. Hell, you’re not even cops, are you?

AGENT JUNE

Oh, don’t be that way, Irene. I know this case isn’t as recent as the other one you’re involved with, but you should be able to remember, right?

IRENE

The—

[THERE'S A LOW, EERIE INSTRUMENTAL AS IRENE'S BLOOD RUNS COLD.]

IRENE

[BLUFFING] What other case?

[AGENT MAY SLIDES A PIECE OF PAPER ACROSS THE TABLE.]

AGENT MAY

You were the last person to see this man, correct?

IRENE

I, um, I don’t know him, no.

AGENT JUNE

You’re not as good at lying as you think you are, you know.

[HE'S HEARD FLIPPING OVER A PIECE OF PAPER TO EXAMINE IT.]

AGENT JUNE

[CONT.] I mean, why lie to us about your job, anyways? There’s no shame in being a forestry aid. I’m sure it’s a lovely profession.

IRENE

Who the hell are you people?

AGENT MAY

Relax, Irene. The Harper Foundation has already taken care of his vehicle and rerouted the case so it doesn’t trace back to you. Investigators will come up with a dead-end soon enough, and nobody will know what you did.

AGENT JUNE

You’re welcome for that.

IRENE

I— [THEN, GUILTILY] I didn’t kill him.

AGENT MAY

I’m sure you didn’t. That’s not important right now. We’re just trying to give you a nudge in the right direction so maybe then you’ll be inclined to tell us the truth.

IRENE

Why? What do you want from me?

AGENT MAY

If you’d give me a moment to speak, then I can explain.

[IRENE HUFFS A SIGH, BUT LETS AGENT MAY SPEAK. HE FLIPS OPEN A FOLDER.]

AGENT MAY

Are you aware of this house’s previous tenant?

IRENE

You mean Bernard Kelly Valencia? His reputation precedes him, but I never knew the guy.

AGENT MAY

That’s correct. We believe he left something behind after he died, however. Something that could be incredibly beneficial for the Foundation. Have you found anything like that?

[IRENE STAYS SILENT.]

AGENT JUNE

[WHISPERS TO AGENT MAY] I think she’s trying to plead the fifth.

AGENT MAY

We expected such stubbornness. We’re not asking you for this for free, you know. We believe we may also have something that would be beneficial for you.

IRENE

And, what is that, exactly?

AGENT MAY

I’m glad you asked.

[HE'S HEARD HANDING A PAPER TO IRENE. MYSTERIOUS MUSIC BEGINS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

AGENT MAY

Sometime in July, the same year Rosemary Quinn disappeared, a dusty yellow bicycle was found in the middle of nowhere in Oregon. It appeared to have had a broken piece in the front where a basket was supposed to be attached. It was never brought to the police, so unfortunately, it could never be examined as possible evidence.

AGENT JUNE

Hiker who found it posted about it on Twitter, though. The guy didn’t have many followers, so it never got traction.

AGENT MAY

This photo was taken not too far from Bent. If this is Rosemary’s bicycle, it could mean that we have a possible travel path for her after her disappearance.

[A TENSE PAUSE.]

AGENT JUNE

Oh, that was quite the shift in your expression, Irene. Have we struck a nerve? [MELODRAMATIC] I guess young love tends to leave such sore, open wounds, doesn’t it?

AGENT MAY

If you let us look at whatever it is Mr. Valencia left behind, we can help you find Rosemary Quinn. It may take some time, but we believe we can determine what happened to her. We just need your help.

[THE MUSIC STOPS. THERE'S A LONG PAUSE.]

IRENE

Get out.

[SHE'S HEARD GETTING OUT OF HER CHAIR.]

AGENT JUNE

Wh—hey!

IRENE

[GROWING MORE UPSET] Get out, I said. Get out!

[AS SHE SPEAKS, SHE'S HEARD PHYSICALLY GRABBING THE AGENTS AND PUSHING THEM OUT OF HER HOUSE. WHILE SHE'S AT IT, SHE GRABS THEIR FOLDERS AS WELL, THOUGH ONE PAPER STAYS BEHIND.]

AGENT JUNE

Hey, no, stop! You can't just grab our things like that! Please.

AGENT MAY

[OVERLAPPING, STUTTERING] Hey—!

[BOTH AGENTS STUMBLE OUTSIDE. IRENE IS HEARD THROWING THEIR PAPERS OUT THE DOOR.]

AGENT JUNE

Woah!

AGENT MAY

That's confidential information, you can't keep that in your house—

[SHE CUTS HIM OFF BY SLAMMING THE DOOR. THERE'S A PAUSE AS SHE BEGINS PACING THE FLOOR.]

IRENE

Who the hell do they think they are? Do they think I’m just some sort of—some sort of tool for them to use? Do they think they can dangle Rose over my head like I’m a dog with a bone, all over some—

[SHE PICKS THE PICTURE UP OFF THE TABLE, STOPPING HER PACING]

IRENE

Some picture of a bicycle?

[THERE’S A PAUSE AS IRENE STARES AT THE PHOTO, BEGINNING TO CALM DOWN.]

IRENE

[CAUTIOUS HOPE.] Is this really your bike, Rose? Why would you tear the basket off? You loved that basket. [WANDERING INTO DAYDREAM TERRITORY] You’d put flowers I got you in it and then ride around your block. Said it made you feel like you were in a painting.

[A BEAT.] Maybe I shouldn’t have kicked them—

[THERE’S ANOTHER KNOCK AT THE DOOR. IRENE STORMS BACK OVER TO IT.]

IRENE

[YELLING] I told you to get out! I’m not some stupid—

[SHE OPENS THE DOOR, AND REALIZES IT'S NOT THE AGENTS.]

IRENE

[EMBARRASSED] …dog.

TEEN

Well, I sure hope you’re not.

IRENE

[AWKWARDLY] Um, hi. Sorry, it’s just, someone else was just over and—

TEEN

Those two dudes? Yeah, they didn’t look very happy. That one guy, the one who had his tie undone for some reason, he had to chase one of the papers down the street. It was really funny.

IRENE

You were watching?

TEEN

Well, I didn’t realize you had a line going out your door of people waiting to talk to you.

IRENE

[DEADPAN] I’m new to the famous life.

TEEN

You’ll get used to it, I’m sure.

IRENE

Well, are you here to interview me and talk about my darkest secrets?

TEEN

That would be cool, wouldn’t it?

IRENE

[DISGRUNTLED] Not after the day I’ve had.

TEEN

Well, you see, I’ve actually been dying to meet you. My mom told me about you, said she met you at the store. I don’t know if you remember her, but from what she told me, it sounds like maybe you could use a bit of help.

IRENE

Your m— [IN SHOCKED AWE] Oh my god, are you the meat lady’s kid?

AVERY

Actually, my name is Avery.

Wanna grab lunch sometime?

[PHONE BEEP.]

[RECORDING ENDS.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers."

Tove Jansson in Sculptor's Daughter, 1968.

[A PAUSE AS A HOLLOW NOISE BEGINS TO GROW IN THE BACKGROUND, FOLLOWED BY STATIC.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

[SLOWLY, AS IF STRAINED] Sometimes, when I close my eyes, I can feel it—

[THE VOICE IS CUT OFF BY STATIC.]

[OUTRO MUSIC & CREDITS PLAY.]

[AN EXTENDED PIANO VERSION OF THE NIGHT POST’S OPENING THEME PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND.]

NIGHT POST PROMO

Hello there, citizen. You’ve lived in Gilt City for a while now. Maybe you’ve wondered, when you wake in the morning and retrieve the letters tucked neatly into your postbox, just where your mail comes from. It comes from the Night Post, of course. Those faithful couriers deliver it while you’re sleeping--all the better that they stay out of sight, and keep the unseemly strangeness that follows them out of our city, in the Skelter, where it belongs.

Ahem. If, for some reason, you’d like to know more about Gilt City’s conscripted couriers and the burden that chose them, their secret hopes and fears, the ancient, untamed threats that hound them on their nocturnal journeys--you have only to listen. The Night Post is a supernatural audio drama by an all-LGBT team, delivered weekly, in dead of night, to wherever you listen to podcasts.

Find answers at nightpostpod.com.

#heart of ether transcripts

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jgukmilk · 4 years

Text

he won’t know (m) 02

➔ summary: after an unforgivable weekend at Jimin’s summer house, you come home and decide to set things right, you wish you hadn’t.

➔ pairing: Jungkook X Reader

➔ genre: cheating!au, smut (not this chapter tho), lots of angst.

➔ warnings: sexual harassment (please refrain from reading if this is a trigger), lots of angsty scenes, reader cries so much:(( protect her, mature language, degrading, a lot of inner-conflict my gOD, jungoo is a soft idiot.

➔ wordcount: 9k

➔ notes: If you haven’t read the first part, then please make sure to do so otherwise the story won’t make sense!

part 1 part 2, part 3 (final)

Sunday, 07:36 AM

You swear you had never bolted out of a bed as fast as you did the morning after, which wasn’t like you since you always enjoyed staying in under the sheets a few hours more than necessary, especially because this was the perfect opportunity to get a little extra shut-eye.

But when you fluttered your eyes open the next morning, only to find yourself wrapping your naked body around another’s – you couldn’t even begin to explain the adrenaline rush that had coursed through your body.

It felt as if Satan had visited the room with a flick of fire from hell on his finger, and scratched it along the naked spine of your back.

Faster than a prey being chased by a predator, you grabbed your shirt that had been thrown to a far corner of the room the previous night. Along with your panties, you threw on all clothing items swiftly yet quietly in attempt to not wake the boy sleeping soundly on the master bedroom’s bed.

You stopped wrestling through your shirt when you caught a glimpse of his ruffled hair peaking throw the duvet. You walked to the side of the bed, seeing him sleeping peacefully. Subconsciously a warm smile threatened to twitch on the sides of your lips.

His eyes were gently closed, letting his dark lashes lay perfectly just above his cheekbone. His lips were cutely pouting, slightly chapped but you found it adorable. His shoulders were rising and falling slowly indicating he was taking small gentle breaths. He looked so peaceful, so warm.

In an ideal world – you would’ve crawled into bed with him and wrapped your cold form around his, in attempt to warm yourself up while nuzzling your nose into his neck. But this wasn’t an ideal world. This was your reality, and things were different whether you liked it or not.

You made your way to the door; slowly opening it you scanned the halls making sure they were empty. The lord was on your side today, having marked the hallway completely clean from any trace of your friends. You sighed lowly in relief as you quickly tiptoed back to Jimin’s room you had supposedly shared with Mina.

Mina…

“Fuck,” you had completely forgotten about the possibility of your best friend noticing the lack of your presence throughout the night. You stood just outside the door with your nose a few breathes away from the finely carved wood while looking up at the ceiling, silently praying that you would open the door, only to find your best friend asleep on the bed.

Your sweaty palm turned the knob gently as you made an attempt to peak your head through the opening of the door you had just created.

You saw an outline on top of the sheets of what looked like a spread out body, you couldn’t see her face but you saw locks of hair hanging down the edge of the bed. Once again you sighed before stepping into the room completely as you gently shut the door behind you.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Your feet sprung from the ground as if hot lava was under them, “Christ, Mina!” You whisper-yelled placing your hand over you chest to see if your heart was still where it was supposed to be. You took a moment to collect yourself before looking up at the girl who had now sat up on the bed, back leaning against the headboard of the bed with her arms crossed, awaiting an explanation from none other than you.

“You just made my heart drop to my ass, you know that?” you huffed while rubbing your chest, trying to ease your increased heartbeat.

“Then you know how I felt when I woke up this morning to see you weren’t there, where in the world were you, woman?” she tapped her index finger that was placed over her right bicep.

“I was—uhh…”

Getting dicked down by Jungkook the entire night.

“Out for a walk! Yeah!” you exclaimed happily, you coughed awkwardly when you noticed her eyes squint in suspicion. Only by then had you realized how made-up your tone made the statement sound.

“I-I mean—I was out for a walk, you know, fresh air and… stuff,” you casually leaned against the door behind you, blowing the lock of hair in front of your hair to give you that chill, laidback image, while you calmly held eye contact with the unconvinced friend in front of you.

Her eyes left yours, scanning you from top to bottom. You saw her eyebrow raise in confusion, you mirrored her action unaware of her state of puzzlement.

“Dressed like that?” your cool left you face, you stood up straight on both feet, tilting your head down to scan your clothes, when you realized. You were barely wearing any.

“What’s wrong with what I put on?” you pouted a fake pout, acting completely oblivious about the fact that you were basically half naked as you spoke.

“‘What I put on,’” she mimicked you, “Y/N, the catch here is that you barely have anything on!” she wasn’t wrong, you stood in front of her solely wearing an oversized t-shirt along with a pair of very petite panties that covered just enough to maintain your dignity.

You sighed in defeat not knowing how to properly tell her the truth, “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but at least don’t lie to me,” she uncrossed her arms in sync with her facial expressions beginning to soften.

“Yeah, you’re right. I know you are,” you started, “I just don’t know how to tell you without sounding like a complete jerk.”

Did you regret it? You didn’t know, but you knew you felt guilty. Not because you cheated – well that too – but because you actually had to dig deep to find any form of moral regret. You felt bad because you hardly felt guilty.

Or maybe you just hadn’t wrapped your head about what had happened yet, you hadn’t even been awake for a full hour, and you knew for a fact you needed more than that to give it some proper thought and wrap your head around it.

“I want to talk to you about it, I just need to process some stuff before I let you in on this whole mess,” you cracked your knuckles as you spoke, a habit that had grown on you every time you grew nervous or even slightly uncomfortable. “I just… I want to understand the situation,” you wanted to understand your feelings.

You looked up only to see Mina’s face soften with slight concern, “is it that bad?” she tilted her head, “n-no—well, yes… I don’t—I don’t know?” you shrugged defeated. “It’s – it’s just very fresh and I-“

She held out a hand in front of her, “you don’t need to explain yourself to me, at least not yet,” the edges of her lips curved up softly, forming a smile, “come to me when you’re ready to talk about it, take all the time you need.” Mina’s kind words only made you sigh in relief. You truly could not express how grateful you were to have gained such an understanding and patient friend like Mina.

You nodded, running your hand through your hair only to grimace at the oily feeling of your locks, “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Yeah please do, you stink.” She pinched her nostrils shut with her thumb and index finger, “I can smell you all the way from here,” she waved the air in front of her, playfully. You too a quick whiff at your armpits, “it’s not that bad…” you pouted.

–

Wrapping the towel around your frame, you exited the shower while rubbing another towel in your hair trying your best to dry it. You scanned the room quickly seeing that you were alone. Strolling over to the mirror to get a better look at yourself, you flipped your hair to your other shoulder wanting to dry your hair from a new angle.

“WHAT THE FUC-“ you slapped your hand over your mouth only to remove it again seconds later, you rubbed your eyes, internally praying that your eyes were playing some kind of sick joke on you.

You traced your fingers over the reddish-purple like bruises that had been painted generously across your neck, “no, no, no, no!” you tried rubbing it away as if it was some prank someone had pulled on you and that there was no other explanation to the hickeys smeared all over your neck. Though it only resulted in you hissing from the pressure you had applied to the sore skin.

You ran to your bag, rummaging for your makeup bag to desperately pull out the concealer to cover up the marks. When spotting the tube, you raised it up in the air as if you had made a marvellous discovery. Jerking the applier in and out of the tube you heard a sudden knock on the door. You looked at the door in horror.

“Just a second!”

You turned your gaze back to the mirror hurriedly applying the liquid over your necking, blending it in to look as natural as possible. “What kind of blood-sucking leech–” you whispered aggressively to yourself when you saw the kiss marks still very noticeable. You could have done better applying it but time was against you, so you spread your hair in front of you to cover up as much of it as you could, fluffing it out.

“Come in!” You said to whoever was behind the door. You saw the knob of the door twist and open, revealing Jimin sticking his head in with a bright smile. “Morning, Y/N,” he entered the room completely, “breakfast is ready,” you smiled forcefully, “who’s cooking?”

“Jin, as always, anybody else would burn the kitchen down,” you giggled at his comment, “perfect, ‘cause a bitch is hungry,” you pointed dramatically at yourself which only led him to smile even brighter, he extended his hand out for you to take it, and you gladly did so.

You both walked down to the kitchen to see that most of your friends were already present by the kitchen bar table.

“Good morning,” you exclaimed kindly, they all greeted you back, “what are we having,” you licked your lips, clapping your hands excitedly at the smell of the goods while hovering over Jin’s shoulder to get a peak of what he was cooking, “there’s French toast, omelet, bacon, bread and spreads of course.” He explained.

“Oh! There are also fruits like strawberry, blueberry and raspberry in the fridge if you’d like some. So a little bit of everything,” you let out a pleased hum, turning over to the bar table where the cutlery and plates were placed.

Heaven, is that you?

“Where’s the rest of the gang?” you asked hovering over the French toast to pick up a couple of pieces.

Yoongi wiped his mouth with some paper towel before looking at you, “Hoseok went with Namjoon to the grocery store to buy some milk and orange juice,” you felt your throat burning from the name you felt on the tip of your tongue, “and Jungkook?”

“He’s out for a morning jog, he’ll be back in a few, at least that’s what he said,” you nodded while seating yourself between Taehyung and Mina.

You grabbed a plate and started to grab bits of everything, assembling the food nicely on your plate, “someone’s hungry,” Taehyung snickered playfully as he watched you fill every corner of your plate. You rolled your eyes followed by a flick to his forehead, you had quite the appetite, you couldn’t help it.

“Yesterday was exhausting, I need to fuel my body,” you justified yourself and grabbed a fork and knife. “What did you do yesterday since you’re left so famished,” You gulped, cutting the toast on your plate with your knife, with little more pressure than necessary.

“S-swimming, obviously,” you felt the palms of your hands start to break a sweat. Before anyone else could comment, the doorknob to the main door jiggled loudly, followed by three figures entering the room.

“Honey, I’m home!” Hoseok had his hands cupped around his mouth, a bright smile plastered on his lips. Behind him stood two tall frames. Jungkook and Namjoon panting behind Hoseok from the weight of the grocery bags they were carrying. The youngest was panting slightly heavier than the rest, you had assumed it was from the jog.

“I sent you to buy milk and juice not the whole store!” Jin clapped his hands on the side of his hips annoyed. Namjoon smiled innocently, “If it makes you feel better, half of this stuff was on discount.”

They walked over to the kitchen counter, placing the heavy bags filled with goods on the marble surface. The youngest made his way out of the kitchen, while Namjoon and Hoseok comfortably joined the rest of the group at the table, “you not gonna eat?” Yoongi asked with his mouth stuffed with berries.

“I’m gonna take a shower, don’t wait for me,” Jungkook announced before speed-walking up the stairs. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy at how he didn’t spare you a single glance from the moment he stepped in.

–

After breakfast you were left to dry the dishes. Everyone had helped clean up and now you were simply doing your part of the chore, “sure you don’t need help?” Taehyung asked nicely for the umpteenth time

“Yes Tae, I’m sure. Thank you though,” you smiled at him sweetly and he returned the gesture before running off to wherever, leaving you alone in the kitchen with a stack of dirty dishes that needed to be cleaned.

You turned your focus back to the plates that needed to dry. Rubbing circular motions of the fine white porcelain with the sky blue towel.

“Wow… you don’t even smile at me that way,” you almost dropped the plate then and there before snapping your head toward the all too familiar voice – Jungkook entered the kitchen with a towel hanging around his neck, a white t-shirt that was stained with a few droplets of water dripping from his hair. You subconsciously gulped the thick spit that had gathered at the back of your throat, fist tightening on the plate at the sight of wet spots sticking to his solid frame.

Without a word you fixed your gaze back at the plate in your hand and continued to wipe the already dry platter, you tried to convince yourself that your palms weren’t sweating, but that they were wet from the beads of water on the plate.

You heard footsteps approach you, “why are you ignoring me, angel?” your toes curled at his calm and collected tone, “don’t call me that,” you chimed firmly. You weren’t looking at him but you saw him tilt his head to the side, he leaned against the counter, which you were sternly facing.

“You liked it yesterday,” you shivered when you felt him brush your hair out of the way, exposing your neck to him. He frowned at the layer of concealer on your skin, anything but the logical answer raced through his mind: why did you cover his marks? Did you regret everything? Were you ashamed? Were you disgusted when seeing the marks in the mirror?

“Why’d you cover them up?” his voice shifted into an unknown tone. A tone you’d heard before, but still – you couldn’t put a label on. He could switch so easily around you; one moment a confident smirk was plastered across his lips, subtly getting on your nerves, and the next he would look so fragile, so insecure, as if you could blow a breath of air his way and he would collapse.

His fingers travelled across the covered red and purple shades on your neck, rubbing off the makeup with his thumb gently, but you only pushed his hand away with a hiss from the applied pressure on the bruise, “I don’t want people to see,” you sighed as if the answer wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world – which, frankly, it was.

“Can I give you more?” You sat the plate down on the pile of porcelain, “what?” you turned around to face him completely, sure you had heard him incorrectly, “I want to mark your skin up some more… will you let me, angel?”

You felt weak to your knees, if your hand hadn’t been on the counter you would’ve fallen on your face for sure. You looked in his eyes for any sign of sike-bitch-you-thought, but you all you saw was hope – hope that you might let him touch you again.

You wanted to slap yourself in that moment. His duality was driving you to the brink of insanity. His eyes were so gentle, so big and doe, god you felt like crying, but his words contradicted his facial expression completely.

You couldn’t bring yourself to utter a word; any trace of your voice at the back of your throat was gone. You stood there, in front of the beautiful boy completely lost in his eyes that held the universe.

You wondered – when stars die, are they reborn in his eyes?

When you didn’t answer, he placed a tender kiss on the curve of your jaw, testing the waters. He knew this could go either way – you’d either slap him across the face and proceed to bolt out of the kitchen screaming, or you’d let him.

He pulled back shivering, seeking for any sort of hint that you wanted him to resume. But all he saw was your closed eyes. Your eyes were so tightly shut it looked like his lips had stung you. He pouted; did you still not feel safe with him?

Forcefully brushing the thought out of his mind, his fingers began to travel up your arms, stimulating every fine hair he’d touch to stand up on its own. Though you never saw, his eyes never left you.

He cupped your jaw with both hands, holding you as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. You flinched when you felt a pair of soft rosebud-like lips right under your eye – peck – the bridge of your nose – peck – the tip of your nose – peck.

Your closed eyes softened, slowly opening them up letting your blurry vision adjust to the exposure of light. A relaxed exhale left your lips at the meeting of his eyes.

He damn near melted at the docility in your orbs, you were looking at him so sweetly, so gently.

What he wouldn’t give to have you look at him like this all the time.

He leaned in closer to your face, eyes fixated on your parted lips. You held your breath thinking he was going to kiss you – well he did, but he kissed your chin. Leaving you to have intuitively puckered your soft lips right above his upper lips. His dramatically defined cupids bow barely brushing against your bottom lips.

You had to force yourself from sinking your lips down to his.

He pulled away with a sigh, smiling gently, but you could see it was enforced. He turned around making his way out of the kitchen.

You wanted to stop him, but you knew it’d be for the best to let him leave. Still you stood there, facing the entrance of the kitchen perplexed.

–

Monday 06:16 PM

The weekend was now over, and so was the small break at the beach house. You were now back at your dorm, sat at your desk hitting the books – quite literally – you slapped your fist on and unknown page of the book, frustrated at your lack of concentration.

A line of curses left you mouth, rubbing your hands aggressively against your face in efforts to slap the procrastination out of your system.

Once you got back from the beach house, you immediately rushed to your shared dorm room with Mina, while she had left shortly after to visit Jimin at his dorm, you dug through your pile of school books to find something – anything, that would take your mind of off this weekend.

You sat with your mathematics book, opened up to the chapter about calculus and analytic geometry. You spent the last 45 minutes or so reading over the same sentence talking about how calculus is used to improve architecture, not only buildings, but also bridges and such. Or something along those lines, Ugh!

Finally, you came to the conclusion that this was absolutely useless, so you closed the book and jumped onto your bed. Reaching over to your nightstand to grab your phone, you pressed the button on the side to light up the previously black screen with traces of unread messages.

-1h ago

Jaehyun <3: hey princess

Jaehyun <3: can you come over?

Your stomach curled in an unknown way. Guilt hitting you like a ton of bricks all at once, fuck. You rose from the bed; leaving the phone on your pillow only to look down on it as if it was the ugliest thing you’d ever laid your eyes on.

You covered your mouth with a hand as the other pointed to the phone like it was a maleficent device. You felt your eyes begin to sting with fresh tears. It hit you – It finally fucking hit you. You cheated.

You felt overwhelmed with emotions, all the sentiments written down in the book washed over you to the point where you felt like you were going to burst. Infamy covered every inch of your body – how could you do this?

You felt ashamed, embarrassed of yourself. Not because you were afraid to hurt someone’s feelings, but because this wasn’t you – this wasn’t what you believed in. Cheating was never something you believed in. If you stood by that statement then how could you have let this happen?

How could you let the devil in the form of man tempt you this way? Cajole you to throw away what you believed in for the sake of – of what? God, you didn’t even know.

You didn’t want to admit that you had been selfish enough to carelessly give yourself to Jungkook, while your heart was supposed to belong to someone else.

Someone else, who you were supposed to dedicate all your faith to, all your loyalty, and you couldn’t even do that. How were you supposed to trust yourself if you couldn’t let yourself stay true to one person.

You threw it away – this relationship – you shoved it down the drain, and for what?

Jungkook.

Jeon fucking Jungkook.

The spawn of Lucifer himself. All of your sadness and shame slowly turned into anger. You hated him, you hated Jungkook. He seduced you, and you let him.

Did he do it on purpose? Was he trying to fuck up your life, your relationship? Your faith in yourself? You convinced yourself that this was his plan, that he wanted you to feel like this all along. What other explanation could there have been?

You never exchanged more than two – three on a good day – sentences with the boy, until Saturday. You never spoke to him properly, and he never approached you, until Saturday. He never showed any form of interested in you, Christ – you thought he hated you. You were never sure, until now.

He wanted to fuck up your life, that’s why he did it. Yes, that’s why. There was no other possible explanation to this, but why did he want to ruin everything for you? Did he actually hate your guts so much? You had never done anything to him, at least not of your knowledge. As mentioned, you barely spoke to him at all.

You tried to convince yourself you wanted him to hate you, and you almost believed.

Almost.

It would make things so much easier: You could reciprocate his hate, never speak of the night you two shared together, and then proceed to never speak to one another.

You sat yourself back on your bed with your hands aggressively running through your hair. Looking down at your thighs you saw a wet stain. You wiped your eyes not realizing you had been crying.

“Shit, I forgot my – Y/N?” snapping your head up to the source of the voice you automatically put on a fake smile, forgetting about the contradicting tears streaming down your face, “h-hey.”

She shook her head entering the dorm room completely, shutting the door behind her, “no, Y/N. You don’t give me that shit,” she fell onto the bed with you, wrapping her arms around you in which you immediately accepted.

You couldn’t stop it. Your tears were flowing freely now, low sobs were heard from you whilst your best friend was rubbing her palm in circular motion on your back in attempts to comfort you.

She didn’t speak, and you were thankful for that. All you could do was quietly sob on her shoulder, dampening her pink woollen sweater with your tears, but she didn’t care.

Once you finally calmed down, Mina pulled away, her hands still rubbing up and down along your arms, “is it really that bad?” Her words only made fresh tears dwell under your eyelashes – you instantly saw the regret in her face from asking, but you shook your head trying to communicate; It’s okay.

Rubbing on your already red nose, you sniffled before taking in a deep breath.

“Who’s bed do I need to shit on?” For the first time in a while, you giggled genuinely. God, you were thankful to have her.

“You seriously don’t need to tell me what’s going on but –“ you shook your head, “n-no, no I think it would be nice to let it out to someone.” Her gaze softened.

You lifted your feet from the edge of the bed, turning to her completely and folded you legs comfortably. Mina mirrored your action.

How were you going to tell her? Fuck, she would be so disappointed in you, wouldn’t she? Sure she had always secretly paired you and Jungkook together but certainly this wasn’t what she was thinking. Deciding there was no way to sugarcoat it, you told yourself the best option was to be straightforward.

“I cheated on Jaehyun.” You exhaled, not realizing you had been holding your breath in the first place.

“With, uhm.” You exhaled, “with Jungkook,” her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her skull, neck leaned forward. Not sure she had heard you correctly and surprised ‘what now?’ left her throat.

You couldn’t bare to say it again, so you simply hid your face behind your hands as your head sunk low. You jumped at the feeling of her arms wrapping themselves around you, squeezing you comfortably.

“And you’re beating yourself up because of it I’m guessing?” you pulled away looking at her, “how could I not?!” her eyebrows furrowed melancholically at your glossy eyes, “I cheated! I fucking cheated, I am not that kind of person!” your eyes were pouring with tears at this point.

“At least I thought I wasn’t.”

“You’re not,” you looked at her perplexed, “I’m not telling you cheating is okay, and I definitely think you should talk to Jaehyun about this,” she wiped your wet cheeks, “but your relationship with him… isn’t even a relationship anymore.”

You sniffled, “yeah I know, it’s not a proper excuse,” she explained, “but you of all people would never do this to someone you truly loved.”

You looked down at your hands that were placed comfortably on your lap, fiddling with your fingers while her words rung through your ears, “but I…I do like him.”

She smiled sadly, “and that’s the problem. You don’t love him, you only like him.” She caressed your arms, soothing running her palms up and down. “The way you said that sounded so depressing,” you looked at her, “you even hesitated.” You’re eyeballs were stinging from the hot tears.

“Y/N,” Mina chimed softly, holding your hands in hers, “does he make you happy?”

You nodded looking down at your lap, “look me in the eyes and tell me he makes you happy, and I’ll believe you.” Your blurred gaze shifted to meet hers. They were such easy words, why couldn’t you form them?

“He’s really nice,” you sniffled, “he’s just nice?” she questioned your statement, “damn, I would cheat on my boyfriend as well if nice was all I could describe him as – OW!” she rubbed the sting on the side of her arm, a result of your semi-playful smack, “I’m just messing with you.”

She cheekily smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but feel the corners of your lips twitch.

“It still isn’t an excuse… I should’ve talked to him about our relationship instead of –“ you couldn’t finish you sentence, feeling yourself choke on the words.

“Well.. maybe that’s what you should do now then,” she smiled softly. Yeah, maybe that’s what you should. He deserved to be told the truth, even though it was ugly – but what would come after that? Would he forgive you? If he did, would you even want to keep going with your, so-called, relationship?

What if he absolutely hated your guts after? He didn’t deserve it. Jaehyun wasn’t a match for you, but that still didn’t give you an excuse to go and have sex with Jungkook. You knew that very well.

“Yeah, I’ll go talk to him,” she nodded. You stood up from the bed, grabbing your leather jacket, “wait – right now?” she asked stunned. You nodded back at her while unlocking your phone to text your boyfriend.

“I might die from guilt if I don’t,” you put your phone in your pocket, “I’ll see you tonight,” and with that, you were out the door.

–

You knocked three long knocks on the fine wooden door in front of you, your palms damp with sweat as a result of your boiling nerves. It felt like years before the door opened.

“Princess,” you boyfriend smiled at you, pulling you by the forearm to engulf you with a hug. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist while yours were hanging loosely around his shoulders, he didn’t seem to notice however. “Come in.” he smiled fondly at you, guiding you into his own dorm.

You both sat yourselves on his bed comfortably, it didn’t take long for you to start fidgeting in your seat and it took just as long for him to notice.

“What’s wrong?” he asked with concern in his voice. God, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him.

He placed a finger under your chin attempt to have you look at him, “w-we need to talk.” Your eyes met his. He raised an eyebrow at the significance in your voice. “Okay, talk.”

Where the fuck were you supposed to start?

I fucked a guy I hardly talk to over the weekend, what were you up to? No

I cheated on you because I don’t have feelings for you anymore. No

We should break up. No!

“Hey,” Jaehyun started when your breath became unsteady, “you can tell me anything, you know that right?” No, this you just couldn’t tell him.

“I uhm…” your eyes started stinging. Not the best timing you fuckers! You mentally cussed your tears, “I’m sorry,” a small sob ripped from your throat, “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you were already a mess, tears streaming uncontrollably like they had not even an hour ago.

Jaehyun’s face twisted with concern, puzzled at why you started crying. “I’m horrible. I’m fucking horrible and you don’t deserve it.” Similar to Mina’s actions, his instinct was to wrap his arms around you, soothingly rubbing his thumb on your back.

“No you’re not, you’re perfect for me, Y/N.” you shook your head, disagreeing, “why would you say that?” his voice was gentle.

“I slept with someone else.”

You said it, you finally said it. You had expected that the feeling of a burden taken off of your chest would take over – however, that wasn’t your case at all.

If anything you felt even more terrible than you did in the first place, and the way your boyfriend’s arms loosened around you only made you cry harder.

“What?” was all he could say, looking at you. Any sign of mildness left his face, a cold stare washing over his face.

“Who?” you didn’t answer, “who did you fuck?” your cheeks had turned red at how hard you were rubbing them in attempt to dry your face.

“Y-you don’t know him,” you decided. Who it was, didn’t matter. You didn’t want any drama to escalate; you could clearly imagine a fistfight take place in front of you between Jungkook and Jaehyun. So if you could prevent it, you most certainly would.

“Bullshit,” he spat, “was it one of those fuckers from the weekend,” it was your turn to bark, “fuckers?” you were the one at fault here, there was absolutely no reason for him to label your closest friends so harshly.

“I’m the one who fucked up, don’t attack them,” you pointed at yourself, he scoffed, “you didn’t even deny it,” you stood up from the bed, tears still present under your eyelashes, “I told you! You don’t know him! Does it even fucking matter who it is?” he stood up with you.

“Yes! I have the right to know who the fuck you’re whoring around with!” your eyes widened.

Whoring around with?

“Tell me who you fucked!” at this point you were afraid the whole goddamn campus could hear what you two were fighting about. “No –..!”

In a matter of seconds you were pushed onto the bed, your boyfriend hovering right above you while placed perfectly between your legs. His fingers were tightly wrapped around your wrists, pinned above your head.

All the oxygen was punched right out of your lungs when he aggressively eyed the skin of your neck. Fuck, you hadn’t put concealer on. “You let this fucker shamelessly suck your neck, huh?” he practically crashed his mouth onto the already sore skin of your throat.

“J-Jaehyun what are you doing?” you squirmed uncomfortably beneath him. “Reminding you who the fuck owns you.” You couldn’t help but cringe at his words.

You twisted your wrists uncomfortably, “w-we should talk about this.” He scoffed, his tongue licking a long strip up you neck, sucking harshly. You wanted to scream. “Stop – stop,” you pleaded, wiggling in attempt to shove him off of you. You couldn’t.

“I don’t think just talking is gonna make you keep your hands to yourself. I need to discipline you, princess,” he uttered bitterly. The hairs at the back of your neck rose. Your face was wet, you couldn’t tell if it was from your previous sobs or if new tears had formed.

He moved his lips onto yours, forcefully moving them over yours.

You had kissed him before – many, many times, but it felt so unfamiliar to you. You didn’t like the feeling, not one bit. At this point you had stopped trying to get out of his grip, it was no use.

You felt useless, you felt numb. You didn’t move your lips, you stopped moving your feet, your hands. You didn’t even know if you were breathing anymore.

You laid there, completely still. You were sure the blood circulation at your wrists was cut off from the tight grip around them. You couldn’t feel your fingers, you wondered if they had turned pale from the lack of blood.

You felt him gather both your wrists in one hand, the grip still tight. His hand descending down from your arms down to you neck, and finally your chest. His grip on your breast had you whine out in discomfort, but he misunderstood it as another emote, “you like that, slut?” You didn’t answer. You just looked up at the ceiling with your glossy eyes, wishing you didn’t feel so weak.

His hand moved away from your breast, descending lower. You felt his cold fingers cup your sex above the fabric of your pants

And that’s when you felt it. It was as if his hand had been the electricity you needed to ignite your nerves back to life. “This cunt belongs to me.”

Your eyes shot directly to the disgusting man in front of you. “Get the fuck off me!” with all of the strength you had left in your body, you yanked both hands as hard as you could away from his, jolting your legs up and onto his chest trying to kick him off of you.

You bolted off of the bed, only to find a tight grip on your shirt yanking you back on the bed. However, it didn’t stop you from trying to escape – no – you had to get out of there.

With his fingers tangled in your shirt you pushed yourself near the door of his dorm. Reaching for the knob of the wooden material, you felt your shirt rip – you didn’t care.

You twisted the doorknob, opening the door and ran away as fast as you could.

You felt drowsy, but the adrenaline in your blood fuelled you enough to make it far enough for you to be safe, however you didn’t stop, you didn’t feel safe. So you kept running.

“Y/N?” a grip on your wrist stopped your feet in place. You looked back with fright written all over your face. Wincing in pain at the pressure applied to your already bruised wrist.

You were panting with heavy tears streaming down your face, your lipstick was smeared all over you lips, your hair was a complete mess, your shirt was ripped, revealing so much skin you felt your dignity wince. You tried holding the torn fabric in place but your bra and skin was still very visible. Bruises and marks were plastered all over your neck.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, taking in your appearance. You yanked your hand out of his grip, “d-don’t touch me…” your voice was weak

“Who did this to you?” his voice was quiet, stepping closer to you he took your hand in his, “Y/N, who the fuc-“

“I said don’t touch me!” once again you jerked your hand back, turning away before running back to your dorm.

You couldn’t stand to look at his face, you hated him with all of your heart. It was his fault. If he hadn’t touched you, your relationship with Jaehyun wouldn’t have ended, it would’ve been fine, you would’ve been fine. But you weren’t – and it was Jeon Jungkook’s fault.

Making it back to your dorm, you found Mina already sound asleep on her bed. Thank god, you sighed out of relief to yourself. In no way did you have the physical or mental capacity to explain your wrecked form to her, and on top of that would she, with no hesitation, go down to his dorm and beat the living shit out of Jaehyun if you told her what had happened.

You didn’t want any more trouble, so this was a secret you were going to take with you to the grave. You took off you leather jacket and changed your shirt into a non-damaged one. You wiped your face with a baby wipe in attempt to remove your smeared makeup.

Sinking your head into the pillow you let your quiet sobs mute themselves through the soft material.

–

Tuesday, 08:34 AM

You woke up feeling like absolute shit. Lazily you dragged yourself out of the bed to make your way over to the hall bathroom to get yourself ready for the day. Taking the essentials that you needed you dragged your feet down the hall.

Looking at the mirror, your eyes were slightly red from the countless amount of tears that had poured down your face the previous night. You wanted to cry again when you saw the marks on your wrists and neck.

No more crying, you have a day to get through, you thought to yourself while applying the concealer above the stains of dark purple and red. You applied cold water to your face in attempt to make them look somewhat normal again.

You finished your routine and made your way back to the dorm only to find Mina awake, on her bed scrolling through her phone. The sound of the door shutting caught her attention, shifting it to you, “Y/N, oh my god,” she dropped her phone beside herself on the bed, “how did it go yesterday?”

Trying not to have you voice crack you shrugged, swallowing thickly, “we broke up,” you smiled sadly. Her eyes softened.

Opening her arms to invite you into a hug, you gladly ran into her arms. Tears starting to form on your waterline once again, but miraculously you were able to stop them from spilling. “You wanna skip classes today? We could make it a fun girl’s day out!” she exclaimed excited.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a choked giggle, “n-no that’s okay, It’d be nice to get busy with studies – I need to distract myself from this mess,” you pulled away from her embrace, “we could do something after classes are done if you want?” you suggested, but she only returned an apologetic look.

“I can’t, I have plans with Jimin – I could cancel them if you’d wa-“ you shook your head rapidly, “no, no don’t do that, there’s no need.” She smiled, “I have classes in like,” you checked your phone, “twenty minutes,” you told her while making your way over to the door, “I’ll see you later?”

She nodded, smiling warmly at you “definitely,” and with that you shut the door.

You couldn’t focus. Images of the previous night kept flashing through your mind. Never had you ever imagined your now ex boyfriend would forcefully prey himself upon you. And Jungkook… his face was smeared with concern, he looked so worried – why did he care?

He didn’t give shit about you, clearly since he tried to jeopardise your relationship with Jaehyun, and frankly, had succeeded clearly.

Class ended – packing your shit you left the hall with your gaze low, you weren’t in the mood to see, nor talk to anybody. You wanted to go back to your own dorm room and bury yourself in books until your disturbing thoughts left your mind.

You felt your phone vibrating against your hip. Reaching towards your pocket you pressed the home button, lighting up the screen.

-1m ago

Jungkook: Y/N

Jungkook: are you done with your classes?

You rolled your eyes; a text from Jungkook was the absolute last thing you needed right now.

You: yeah why

You put your phone back in your pocket but he was quick to respond, having you sigh as you stopped walking to view his message.

Jungkook: can we talk?

Fuck no you couldn’t talk. You couldn’t talk now, heck – you never wanted to ever talk to him again. Your stomach couldn’t bare the thought of talking to him, much less – see him.

Not after everything that happened between the two of you. You wanted to claw your fingers at his face for turning your life into a living hell. Or was that entirely his fault?

You: no

Jungkook: please, we need to talk.

You: I said no

Your phone kept vibrating but you didn’t care. You had to put your own mental health first here, you wanted to focus on yourself and your own goddamn well-being before fixing things with everyone else, and by everyone else you meant Jungkook.

There was no way in hell you were going to talk Jaehyun again.

Finally, you made it to your dorm room safe and sound. You placed your phone on your nightstand before dropping yourself onto your comfy, welcoming bed.

It had been such a long day, and it wasn’t even over. You felt like dunking your head in the toilet and flush, thinking it would feel much better than whatever you were feeling now.

Your eyes grew heavy, feeling yourself slowly shut them as you were about to fall asleep when and loud, too loud in your opinion, knock was heard from the door.

Whining, you stood up from your bed, unwillingly dragging your feet over to the door and opening it. What a big mistake that was. “Y/N,” you didn’t respond, attempting to close the door in Jungkook’s face, but his foot stopped you from doing so.

“Move,” you said sternly, “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit,” his eyes widened at the vulgar tone in your voice. “Move your foot,” you warned, that didn’t stop him though, “No, wait please –“ he attempted to open the door you had so rudely, almost quite literally, smacked in his face.

You didn’t care; being rude to him was the last thing you cared about.

“I really need to talk to you,” he pleaded, “ten minutes, that’s all I need,” you stopped abusing his foot with the door. Sighing heavily you thought about his proposition, “five minutes.”

You opened the door to let him in, “ten,” your patience was running thin, “five, take it or leave it,” you said coldly.

Nodding gently, he entered the dorm. You sat on your bed, watching him awkwardly stand in front of your bed, “you can sit I’m not gonna stab you,” you huffed, which only made him chuckle, “you look like it,” he coughed awkwardly seeing the unamused look on your face. He quietly sat himself beside you, keeping a closer distance than you’d like.

“So…” he started, looking at you cautiously, “you’ve wasted two minutes,” you said checking your phone. Your cold eyes glanced back at his warm ones. “Uhm… Saturday huh.”

“Get out,” you pointed to your door, he furrowed his eyebrows sadly, “wha – I still have three minutes,” he let out gently, “yeah, not anymore. Get out of my dorm,” you stood up from your bed. “You can’t keep running away from this, Y/N,” he started, still seated on your bed, “we have to talk about this one way or another.”

You ran your fingers through your hair frustratingly; you really weren’t in the mood to talk to Jungkook, let alone talk to him about what the fuck had happened on Saturday. As immature as it seemed of you to run away, that’s what you needed. You needed to run away from this situation, from him.

“I don’t want to talk about Saturday, so if that’s all you came to talk about then you can be so kind and get the fuck out of my dorm, before I shove you out myself.” He tilted his head, rising from your bed, you stepped away when he took a step closer to you and he noted to keep his distance with you.

“Why are you so mad–“ you almost punched him in the face, “why am I so mad?” you repeated to yourself, “I don’t know, Jungkook. You tell me, why am I mad?” you smiled, but it wasn’t sincere, you were sure you looked like a complete psychopath to him.

“I d-don’t know, that’s why I’m asking…” he said in a small voice. You questioned why he looked so fragile in front of you, Jungkook had a well-built body, and if he needed to he could put it to use. Visibly he was much stronger than you, so why did he look scared of you.

“Because I fucked you!” you yelled, “we fucked! We had sex!” your voice grew louder by every word, you could visibly see him shudder at the sudden volume of tone.

You, however, kept going, “have you even begun to understand what the fuck that means?!” he shook his head, “that’s why I wanted to talk, I want to know what it means–“

“It means I cheated! I cheated on Jaehyun with you!” he sunk his head low, he looked like he was getting scolded by his mom.

You pinched the bridge of your nose in attempt to calm yourself down, “what were you trying to achieve. Honestly,” he was about to answer but you beat him to it, “were you trying to ruin my relationship.”

“What – no I wasn’t–“ you didn’t let him finish, “we broke up, so congratulations. Mission accomplished,” you clapped sarcastically with a bitter smile plastered across your lips. He stood there, completely mute. Silence took over the room. Was he supposed to say something?

“Do… do you want me to talk to him–“ your fists were tingling, begging you to put them to use and launch them towards his jaw.

“No!” feeling his knees giving up on him, he sat himself back on your bed, “don’t you want to get back with him?” he questioned in such a small voice you almost felt bad.

“No, I don’t,” the relief that washed over his eyes briefly only fuelled your anger, “why are you mad then?” Unbelievable.

“This is not about me cheating on Jaehyun, this is about me cheating in general!” he looked puzzled. “Why did you seduce me into it? Is this what you wanted? To see me on the brink of insanity?” he shook his head no, “then what?!”

“B-because I actually wanted you!” for the first time, he raised his voice. “that’s why.”

The protest at the back of your throat died, “you fucking liar,” you were fuming with anger, you were sure you were going to go insane. “I’m not lying, I never acted to hurt you or make you feel used. I did what I did because I want you.” You didn’t believe him, no matter how reassuring his words sounded; you didn’t believe him one bit.

“Angel–“

“Don’t call me that.”

“I still don’t understand why you’re so mad at me… didn’t you want me?” You felt like crying, you had explained yourself to him countless times, he just didn’t understand. He wanted to hurt you, and clearly it was working. You were sure of it. Warm, fresh tears started forming, slowly blurring your vision and you saw Jungkook’s eyes softened at the sight of your teary eyes.

“I don’t know how the fuck I am supposed to feel about this. I cheated on my now ex boyfriend with you, and I have no fucking idea how I should feel about it.” You let your tears fall. “Do you regret it?” you felt weak, you forced your knees to keep you standing.

“Are you shitting me – was that all you heard?” your mouth was quivering. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. You didn’t want to appear weak, but the damage was already done.

“Jaehyun can go to hell. How you feel about this is what’s most important to me,” you felt powerless under his gaze – it was your turn to feel small. “it’s a simple ‘yes’ ‘no’ question, Y/N, it shouldn’t take this long to answer.”

“what, I-“ it was his turn to cut you off, “did I fucking stutter? Do you regret it yes or no?” you stayed silent, “do you regret fucking me?”

“I don’t know!” you finally let out, your form trembling, “I don’t know…” You sighed deeply; you rubbed your temple, trying to ease the agonizing headache that was forming.

“I hate that I let myself go this far with you, but what I hate more is the fact that I don’t know if I regret it or not.” He rose from his seat, once again – attempting to reach out to you but you gave him a warning look. “Don’t,” you held out your hand in front of him indicating that he should stay in his spot exactly.

You mentally cussed yourself when you saw his gaze shift to your wrist – your bruised wrist. Completely disregarding your warning, he took your hand in his, carefully inspecting the dark blue and purple stains plastered all over your skin.

He ran his thumb over the dark discolouration gently, but even at that did you hiss – causing the dark-haired boy’s eyes in front of you to shoot up and meet yours. There it was, again, the unreadable expression on his face. Was it pity? Was it anger? Was it sadness? – You couldn’t tell. “Did he do this?”

Jungkook’s voice was quiet; his eyes sunk to your wrist. You lazily pulled your hand back to have it fall to your side, you didn’t have the energy to yell at him anymore, you didn’t have the energy to explain yourself, you didn’t even have the energy to lie to him.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m done with him,” he looked at you again, “of course it matters, he hurt you,” he started in disbelief, “how could that not matter?” his eyes widened as if he had realised something, “yesterday… in the hallway, when I saw you running.” He didn’t finish his sentence, taking in your lugubrious expression. His heart sank when he saw your face twitch in discomfort, as if you a painful image had flashed before your eyes.

Your eyebrows furrowed, lips trembling while small quiet sobs rung through his ears.

He wanted to hug you. Fuck, you looked like you were going to break in half if he didn’t wrap his arms around you then and there. But you’d push him away and he knew it, so he restrained himself. “Y/N... I-I’m sorr–”

“Leave,” you whispered, you were tired, you were exhausted. You just wanted to be alone why was that so hard for him to understand? You looked down at your feet, you felt embarrassed. You didn’t want him to know you couldn’t protect yourself; you didn’t want to tell him what had happened to have left you with so many bruises.

“Jungkook, please, I’m begging you,” your voice was shaking at this point, and at that he let your hand go.

“Leave me alone.”

You failed to notice the hurt in his eyes, he slowly stepped away from you, heading towards the door with his head hanging low – to leave you alone, just like you had requested. You failed to notice the tears that had begun to sting his big doe eyes.

You failed to notice him.

–

A/N: not gonna lie, writing this part kind got me emotional. please don’t hate me for taking forever to write this part i’m sorRY, i tend to rewrite things a lot so i take my sweet sweet time :(( hope you liked it cuties, pleaseeee let me know what you think, i would love to improve my writing so don’t hesitate to give me some feedback! I think i rewrote this part at least twice ajhndshb. okkk bye for now! mwahhhh

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linklethehistorian · 3 years

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Randou and the Sins of Season 3's Fifteen Adaption (Part 14/???)

Episode 27 — The God of Fire (2/4)

Contrary to the presentation of the conversation between Dazai and Chuuya following the former’s aforementioned actions in the anime, where it simply ends on the suicidal boy’s several agreements that shooting a dead body is probably excessive and unnecessary and that his partner is right to claim such, that is not really the way it truly unfolded within its source material; no, instead, when Chuuya asks him to show respect for the dead by not continuing to shoot the man’s lifeless form, Dazai only acknowledges his statement once — his superficially familiar “Yeah. You’re right.” taking on an entirely different tone and context in the novel — before adding that that is ordinarily what people would think and pausing a moment, laughing dryly at his own statement soon after as he walks away towards the mansion.

Of course, I suppose that you may be wondering why something as seemingly small as removing his laughter and perhaps swapping a few choice words out for others is such a big deal to me — or to anyone else, for that matter — when it ultimately all sounds much the same, and I suppose I can’t really blame you for that, either, but it’s necessary for you to understand that in this case, the key to the scene’s proper nuance really does lie in these very things that were taken away from us. As I said above, the words, “Yeah. You’re right” are used by Dazai in an entirely different light between the two versions; while in the animation, it was clearly used as an agreement with the redhead’s sentiment, in the novel, it functioned more as a show of attentiveness towards the person presenting their views to him, as well as an acknowledgement that this was something he’d heard many times before from other “normal” people and thus was not the least bit surprised to be told again — especially when Chuuya was, from his then-current perspective, not any different from the rest of the masses in his thought processes.

On the question of whether or not this is a compliment or an insult, I think that it is worth acquiescing that it may genuinely be a bit of both, for although I personally lean more towards the latter and have my own reasoning for believing it was meant as such, I do think that Lea also has some rather interesting insight into and ideas on the matter, herself, and I absolutely don’t want to just ignore her point of view on it, when I do feel that it too at least bears a decent amount of consideration; therefore, I will do my best to give a bit of elaboration on both angles, along with asking that if I fail to explain her thoughts well to you, you might feel free to check out the post in which she originally goes over it.

From Lea’s personal standpoint, it is her belief that the bandaged teen’s laughter at his assertion that Chuuya’s thoughts were ordinary compared to his was not meant as a mockery towards Chuuya or so-called “ordinary” people, but rather was aimed at himself; according to her explanation, this is because Dazai is well aware of how strange his mind is and, as such, how he himself can never qualify as or belong to the notion of anything ‘ordinary’, thus causing him to hold some bitterness towards himself for how out of place he is in the world and how little he believes he can ever fit in. As before, whilst I may hold a different opinion on the situation overall, I don’t actually think this interpretation is precisely wrong, nor do I think it should be completely overlooked, as I absolutely don’t doubt that Dazai does, to some extent, feel a deep dissatisfaction in himself because of how ‘different’ and, in a sense, removed from everyone else, he is, and how that has led to him experiencing this great emptiness inside and struggling to want to continue living; I don’t doubt for even a moment that there are and have often been times in the past when Dazai may have been, on some level, jealous of those around him and perhaps even had a part of him wish that he could be like everyone else, because I’m almost sure that all of this has been true — at least, at one point or another.

That being said, though, that also does not erase the fact that regardless of any envy he may feel for the general population, it is absolutely not because he in any way believes them or their ways of thinking to be genuinely superior; in fact, based on all that has already been established about Dazai — both in this particular entry and all of those in the past as well — I think it is very fair and safe of me to make the assessment that, if anything, it is exactly the opposite that is true. Dazai envies others and their thought processes not for some alleged superiority, but rather, for their supposed inferiority, which his emotionally and empathetically narrow mind perceives them to have; to the young so-called genius, his occasional desire to be like the ‘ordinary’ people around him is little more than a wish that he could sometimes turn his ‘logic’ off — to become simple and ‘naive’ enough to be unaware of what he thinks are the true ways of the world, or at least just be ‘foolish’ enough to see it and still be able to ‘delude’ himself into denying it anyway.

Assuredly, I can grant that the suicidal teen may dislike or even resent his own nature, but once more, it is not because he believes there is something wrong with him mentally, half so much as that he believes he is much too smart for his own good; thus, I hardly think it appropriate to say that his laughter is in intentional mockery of that or of himself, when I find it far more easy to believe that he is amused by and making mockery of the “lower intelligence” of others and their compassionate, ‘uninformed’, emotionally-driven outlooks.

Of course, if this conclusion of mine is indeed right, then we would naturally have a much better explanation for why this moment was omitted in the anime. I know that some people might think that it is very logical to presume that they simply cut whatever they could for time, and that this part was just one of those things that could be easily and fairly harmlessly expended, rather than to take the less charitable stance in saying that this was a calculated move of some kind; however, when you truly give any degree of genuine thought to it, you must admit that it is a little absurd to suggest the studio decided that these few potential seconds of additional dialogue were “taking up too much time”, especially when you consider that they were just fine with wasting much, much longer on credit sequences and extended events that did not even happen as presented in the original story on other occasions.

Furthermore, while no one is denying that the moments leading up to this removed final exchange aren’t exactly the best at providing pleasant representation for Dazai, there is still no ignoring the fact that without this last piece being kept in, it is nonetheless infinitely better for a more SKK compliant, ‘kinder Dazai’ narrative than it would be with it still maintained, as it not only makes Dazai look slightly nicer, but especially lends much more of a sense that Chuuya’s words had a profound effect on him than they actually did. As for what they gain in pushing this untrue portrayal I continue to allude to so often, and what reason I have to believe they’re actually doing that, well, that’s something I’ll get into much more later, but I imagine it isn’t so hard to at least partially figure out on your own anyway, in the meantime — even if you don’t truly know the full extent of the butchery they’ve committed to achieve it.

Temporarily setting aside this treachery and mutilation, though, even if this one choice hadn’t been a part of some much bigger picture, I would still be just as disappointed in their decision, as I feel it heavily tones down the full extent of the scene’s eeriness and loses the true sense of the two teens’ personalities, thoughts, and relationship with each other.

It is, true, too, I have no doubt, that the earlier addition of Dazai’s “what you say is probably correct” to the conversation, after twice confirming that Chuuya was right with his assessment, was included in order to mirror a certain scene in DEAD APPLE, but I don’t really have much to give of my own, commentary-wise, on it, since unlike the other alteration, its existence does not change all that much, and as a result, I neither hate nor adore it; it simply exists, and that is fine.

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limjaeseven · 4 years

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MINE

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

AU: Yandere

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 8,569

Warnings: Masturbation, unprotected sex, stalking, minor and major character death, obsessive behaviour, mentions of murder, kidnapping

Note: This fic has been written with a changing perspective i.e. the point of view changes between y/n and Jungkook with every paragraph.

[a/n]: Happy Valentine's Day to the lovely @btsracket. I'm so sorry for the delay but I really hope you enjoy it. This fic was a lot of fun to write and I tried experimenting with a new style so I hope you like it :)

Jungkook was in love with you. There was no better way to explain the feelings he felt towards you. You were his entire world. All he could think about was you. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, make love to you and tell you how perfect you were. He wanted to do it all and more but there was a catch. He had never actually met you.

You were the third year literature student who loved English and philosophy. Everyone knew you for one, your unique fashion sense, because you refused to wear anything that wasn't black and two, your no nonsense attitude. No one would dare to cross you. You were a friendly and cheerful person in general but had a bad side that everyone was absolutely terrified of.

Jeon Jungkook on the other hand was a first year architecture student who was also known for two things, one, his model gorgeous looks and two, his mysterious personality. He never spoke in class and didn't bother interacting with his fellow classmates. Camera in hand, he was just seen roaming around campus clicking photos.

You were walking around campus one day when you saw a flyer asking seniors to apply for a programme to help juniors with subjects in which they were failing. You yourself had a tough time with some topics and it was your senior and best friend Jaebum, who had helped you. Checking the flyer to figure out where to sign up, you headed for the main office. Once there, you spoke to one of your professors who was there, telling him you wanted to help out and he noted your name down, telling you he'd get back to you.

Jungkook had been failing his philosophy class. He knew very well that the only reason he took the class was in hopes of meeting you but his dreams crumbled when his teacher was changed at the last minute, meaning you weren't in his class. Jungkook hated philosophy. He just wanted to pass class and maintain his GPA. So when his teacher recommended him to join the tutoring programme to get some help, he agreed, albeit reluctantly.

It had been a week since you had signed up and your philosophy professor finally called you in, telling you that your partner had been picked. You hoped you got a decent person because you weren't used to tutoring. You packed your bag after your English professor left the class, heading straight for your philosophy professor's office. When you entered, there was what looked like a first year student sitting across from your professor.

Jungkook was walking towards the cafeteria to get some food when he met his philosophy professor. She told him that someone had been found to tutor him and he was told to head to the office of the other philosophy professor. The teacher greeted the young man and asked him to sit. After about five minutes of discussing Jungkook's prospects of passing the class, the door opened. He turned around in shock to see you standing there in all your glory.

"Yes y/n, come in. Meet Jungkook, he's a first year student that needed some help with philosophy. I was hoping you could help him out with the subject? He is on the verge of failing but he has a lot of potential and I really think you'd be the perfect person to guide him" Your professor said.

You nodded at him, extending your hand to greet Jungkook. "Hello Jungkook, I'm y/n and it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm looking forward to helping you out" You said with a smile. He gave you a firm handshake before pulling his hand back and the professor excused you both.

Jungkook could not believe his luck. After taking philosophy and not ending up in the same class as you, fate and brought you two together and made you his tutor. You looked even more beautiful up close, he noted as he introduced himself to you. He chatted with you about why he couldn't understand the subject and suggested that you two should meet up twice a week for the tutoring sessions.

You couldn't help but stare at Jungkook as he spoke to you. The man was absolutely gorgeous to the point where it was unfair to be that good looking. When he recommended to meet twice a week, you told him you were free on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the timing of five pm to seven pm fit your schedule the best.

Jungkook didn't actually care what time to said that you were free, he was willing to change and or drop anything and everything for you. Fortunately your schedule matched up with his pretty well so he instantly agreed to your proposal. He decided to be a little brave and asked for you number and you handed him your phone, telling him to save his number on your phone first and you then gave him a missed call so that he could save your number.

But before he could do anything, you grabbed his phone and saved your number as "y/n (philosophy queen ;)" and clicked a quick sefie and saved the image. You also took your phone and snapped a photo of Jungkook and saved it as a part of his contact in your phone. You gave him your address and told him to come to your place on the subsequent Saturday at five before bidding him adieu.

Jungkook spend the entire evening that day, staring at the selfie you had clicked. He couldn't believe what was happening. You spoke to him, shook his hand, laughed at his jokes and promised to help him out. He had dreamed of days like this but never had he expected it to actually happen. He couldn't wait for Saturday to finally get to be with you, alone.

You went back that day, satisfied by the fact that you were doing something good for one of your juniors. Jungkook was a really good looking guy but you saw him mostly as just a fellow student and junior. And besides, you had a huge crush on the college's bad boy Min Yoongi. He was in the same year as you, doing a music production degree. He was just your type. You had spoken to him a couple of times during random parties and flirted around a bit but nothing more than that.

Saturday rolled around and Jungkook stood in front of his closet for what felt like an eternity trying to figure out what to wear. He settle on a pair of black ripped jeans and a plain black shirt tucked in along with a pair of black high tops. He quickly styled his hair and left his house, worried that he would get late. He got to your apartment and rang the bell, waiting for you to ring the bell.

"Hey, come in. How did you know my address though? I only gave you my building name" You questioned. You purposely didn't give Jungkook you room number so that he would have to call you to ask you what your address was, giving you a heads-up that he was arriving. "I met my friend downstairs who lives in the same building and asked him if he knew your address and he did" Jungkook explained. Satisfied with his answer, you led him to your bedroom where you usually studied.

Jungkook cursed in his head as he followed you to your room. He should have been more careful. Having been in love with you for a while, he had accumulated a lot of information about you, some through legal and some through not so legal ways. He knew your address really well cause he came by every now and then and would hang around under your building to see you go in and out of it. Once he was brave enough to go up the lift to your floor and pressed his ear against your door and heard your deep bold voice singing some random song. He was unimaginably enamoured by you in every possible way.

You both sat down and spent the next two hours studying. You noticed Jungkook steal a couple of glances but you thought nothing of it and let it be. Jungkook didn't have a great understanding of the subject, you noted. The first session with him was spend by you trying to understand what he knew and didn't know so that you could help him out better. Whenever he got an answer right or said something cute, you smiled at him which cause his adorable bunny smile to pop out which you couldn't help but admire.

You were truly the most beautiful woman Jungkook had ever seen. The way you spoke to the way you smiled and encouraged him when he got something right made him feel butterflies in his stomach. He loved absolutely everything about you. The moment you said that his time was up, he couldn't help but frown a bit. Time had flown by with you next to him. "Hey there is a party at my fraternity house today, do you want to come?" Jungkook offered before he could even could process what he was saying.

"Wait, you're in BTS?" You asked. Beta Theta Sigma, more commonly known as BTS was the most famous fraternity on your campus. Only few were selected to be part of the fraternity. It had a core body of seven members know as the Seven. "Yeah. I'm in the Seven" You're haw dropped at the statement. You had never expected someone so quiet and introverted as Jungkook to be in the Seven.

"I was already planning to go" You told him. He nodded and left the room to let you change. He fished out the mini cameras he had purchased off of eBay and placed them all over your house before connecting them to his phone and checking if the feed was okay. The thing with you was, the more he got to know about you, the more he wanted to know. He had fantasied of seeing you touching yourself and now that was about to become a reality thanks to the cameras he installed.

You quickly threw on a simple outfit made up of a black cropped t-shirt and black tights along with a pair of black converse highs and normal make up. You saw Jungkook sitting on the couch and called out for him. You noticed him turn around and take a moment to admire your simple yet sexy look and led you out the door. You both walked to his frat house making small talk on the way. As you both walked in, people stared at you and you couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable.

Jungkook couldn't believe that you had agreed to come to the party with him. What he loved even more was that you both looked like you were wearing matching outfits and it just made him think about how it would be if you both were dating. He knew your favourite colour was black and that also happened to be Jungkook's favourite colour. People would call it a coincidence but he called it fate. He wanted to introduce you to his six best friends. Only one of them knew that Jungkook liked someone but didn't know who it was.

Jungkook completely ignored everyone at the party and took you to a room inside the frat house. Inside, there were six men lounging on couches and chatting. "Hey Kook, you actually came! Who's this? I've never seen you get a girl to one of our parties" One of the guys said. He was tall and we'll built with a beautiful face. He wore an all pink outfit which would have looked hideous on anyone else but he pulled it off like he was a runway model.

"Hyung this is y/n, y/n this is Jin hyung" He introduced. Jungkook just wanted to spend some time with you but all the boys were intrigued about who you were so they asked you to join them. Jungkook landed up with you next to him in the couch with Yoongi on your other side. The couch was small and Jungkook was already not happy about the lack of space between you and Yoongi. "Hey, y/n! It's been a while since we met, how are you?" Yoongi asked you.

"I'm great, Yoongi. I have been so busy with studies and helping Jungkook out that I haven't had the time to drop by your studio like you'd asked me to" You confessed. Yoongi had once told you to come by his studio and listen to some of his stuff when you both had met at a party. You would be lying if you said you weren't unnecessarily excited when he gave you the offer. Jumping around you room like a 4 year old, your best friend had to come in and calm you down. Yoongi was the perfect match for you. You both had similar personalities, a shared love for music and even liked the same food.

"Wait you know Yoongi hyung?" Jungkook asked you. He was already not happy about how close you two were sitting but on top of that, you knew Yoongi and he offered you to come to his studio. Jungkook was pretty much steaming. He could see the look in your eyes. He recognised it because it's similar to the look he saw in his mind when he looked at the mirror and thought of you. He couldn't imagine you liking Yoongi. You wouldn't do that to him, right?

"That's fine, kitten. Drop by whenever you get time. Can I get you a drink?" Yoongi asked. "Yes please" You replied and Yoongi tapped your thigh twice before getting up. Out of the seven guys, you only knew Jungkook, Yoongi and Jimin, who was a year junior to you. The rest of them introduced themselves to you as Jin, Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung. You smiled at them and engaged in small talk till Yoongi returned with two glasses in his hand, one for you and one for himself. Sitting back down next to you, he spread one arm over the back of the couch behind you.

Jungkook saw Yoongi's arm slowly inching towards your shoulder but before he could say anything, it was resting on you. You leaned into him a little bit as you sipped your drink and Jungkook was beyond mad. He couldn't imagine his own hyung doing this to him. He wanted to be the only one who was allowed to touch you. You were his after all. The way you giggled at Jin's jokes and pouted when Yoongi called you out for having a low standard for jokes made Jungkook unimaginably jealous. "You wanna dance?" Yoongi asked.

You took a moment to process what Yoongi was saying. He not only got you a drink and placed his arm around your shoulder, he also asked you to dance with him. Min Yoongi asked you to dance with him. You were absolutely losing your mind but you still accepted his hand as he pulled you out of the room towards the dance floor. Nervous excitement coursed through your body as he smirked at you. The both you danced to a couple of fast dance songs before the slow, sexy music started playing. You were genuinely having the time of your life.

Jungkook on the other hand was not-so-subtley sulking alone on the couch. Taehyung, Jungkook's best friend noticed this and got up from his seat to sit bedside the younger boy. "What's up, Kook?" He asked. Jungkook just turned away as pulled his phone out, ignoring Taehyung. The older boy sat there and thought for a moment why Jungkook was upset when it clicked. "Was that the girl you like?" Taehyung asked.

As the atmosphere of the room got more steamy, Yoongi started inching closer towards you till your back was pressed up against his chest and you both slowly swayed along to the beat. You took his hands and placed them on your hips, giving him permission to touch you. Yoongi may have looked like a total bad boy on the outside but he was actually a gentleman on the inside. Your heart melted as he kept his hands firmly at your hip, exactly where you had placed them, so as to not make you feel uncomfortable.

"What are you talking about, hyung?" Jungkook asked. He didn't want to admit that he was jealous of Yoongi. "You know what I'm talking about. You're jealous, aren't you?" Taehyung teased. Annoyed, Jungkook stormed out of the room, only to see you pressed up to Yoongi. Your head was tipped back onto his shoulder and his arms were on your hips. Jungkook seethed as you grinded against the older man. Jungkook just stood there, staring at how your body moved to the beat and wished it was him and not Yoongi you were dancing with.

"It's getting late, Yoongi. It's time I head back" You told him. He pouted but nodded and walked with you till the front door. "I'll come with you. It's quite late, it's not safe to walk all the way alone" Yoongi said and before you could rebut him, he grabbed his jacked and held your hand, guiding you outside the frat house. You both shared random stories as you walked back to your place. Yoongi was a perfect mix of bad boy and gentleman that made you fall harder for him. You were standing outside your apartment when he asked you for your number and you happily gave it to him along with a chaste kiss on his cheek before he bid you farewell.

Jungkook saw you whisper something in Yoongi's ear and walk out of the frat house and he followed you. He did his best to stay hidden and trailed behind you two. He felt so jealous that he wanted to hurt his hyung for not only hurting Jungkook but also for having the audacity to touch you. You belonged to him and no one else. You were his and only his. He could feel a sense of sadistic pleasure creep up his body as he thought about torturing Yoongi for what he did to you. His determination to hurt the older boy especially skyrocketed when he saw you giving him your number and kissing him on the cheek.

You opened the door, got inside, slammed it shut and leaned against the door, your hands on your chest. Heart beating crazily, you thought about the events of the night and blushed. You quickly walked to bed and layed there for a while. Thoughts of Yoongi circled your head. His fuckboy vibe, his gentlemanly attitude, his gummy smile and those dark eyes. The slickness in your panties was becoming more obvious as you thought about Yoongi. Though it was a bit embarrassing, you pulled your pants off and circled the tips of your fingers around your clit from over the fabric.

Jungkook followed Yoongi back to the frat house and headed straight for his room. The younger could not even think about having to look at the olders face because all he could think about is you kissing his hyung. Jungkook opened his laptop on his table to see you, lying in bed. Your pants were on the floor as you used your fingers to tease your slit. Pretty moans left your lips as your underwear dampened. Jungkook could feel his own pants tightening up as he watched you.

You discarded the useless fabric from between your legs and started pleasuring yourself properly. Two of your fingers entered your pussy as you thought about running your hands down Yoongi's toned chest. You popped two fingers from your other hand into your mouth and sucked on them, imagining them to be Yoongi's cock.

Jungkook watched raptly as you sucked harshly on your fingers, imagining that it was you sucking him off. He unzipped his pants and kicked both his jeans and his boxers off. He was already hard and leaking precum. Wrapping his fingers around his length, he stroked in time with the fingers in your pussy. The only thing he wanted was for you to moan his name. He imagined you sitting between his legs with your lips wrapped around his cock.

You pulled your fingers out of your mouth and teased your nipples. Breathy moans left your lips as you drew closer to your climax. The thought of Yoongi's deep, raspy voice commanding you to cum had you falling over the edge with a broken moan of his name. A light blush coated your cheeks as your came down from your high and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

Jungkook was on the very edge when he heard you moan Yoongi's name. The younger seethed with rage as he quickened his pace and came all over himself. He cursed under his breath because it was not him you were thinking about as you got yourself off. You didn't love him the way he loved you. Jungkook loved his hyung but if he got in between him and his love, he would not spare the man. Jungkook slammed the laptop shut and cleaned up before heading to bed.

It was early evening on the following Wednesday when you were out for lunch with Yoongi. The two of you had gotten rather close after the party and he asked you out. Your phone started buzzing and you checked to see the called ID. It was Jungkook so you picked up the call. "Noona where are you?" Jungkook asked. You felt like you were forgetting something. "I'm outside, Jungkook. What happened?" You asked.

Jungkook was quite agitated that you weren't at home. "Noona I'm waiting outside your apartment. We were supposed to meet at five" He reminded you. "I'm so sorry, Jungkook, it completely slipped my mind. I'll be there in five minutes" You said before hanging up. Jungkook tapped his foot impatiently as he wondered what you were doing that you forgot about him.

"I'm sorry, Yoongi. I've got to go. I was supposed to help Jungkook out today but it completely slipped my mind" You apologised to your date. "It's totally fine, y/n. I'll text you, we can go out sometime else" He said before leading you out of the restaurant and driving you back to your apartment. You thanked him for dropping you before you got out of the car. He returned you his signature gummy smile before driving away.

Jungkook heard the lift open and turned around to see you walking towards him. "Sorry, Jungkook. I was out for lunch and it completely slipped my mind that we were supposed to meet today" You said while unlocking the door. Jungkook eyed your outfit as he walked behind you. He had never seen you wearing a dress before but the knee length full sleeve sweater dress suited your general aesthetic well.

You had actually never enjoyed wearing dresses much but after Yoongi asked you out you decided to go shopping and stumbled across your current outfit. Even though it was different from your general style, you thought that Yoongi would like and so you bought it. He ended up complementing you, saying that he really liked how the dress looked on you.

Jungkook too loved the way the dress subtly accentuated your beautiful body. It made you look even more perfect in his eyes. The only thing that he didn't like thinking about was that you wore it for someone else. He hoped it wasn't a guy and the you were out with a friend and just wanted to try something new. He couldn't concentrate on what you were teaching because he kept wondering if you had worn the dress for a guy.

You had finished teaching Jungkook a chapter when you got a text from Yoongi. He sent you a cute selfie letting you know that he had finally reached home. His hair was still wet from the shower and his white t shirt hugged his lean body sinfully. You quickly snapped a picture of yourself and sent it to him. You noticed Jungkook curiously looking towards your phone and you turned the screen off and placed it on the table.

"That's it for today, Jungkook. I'll see you on Saturday!" You said. Jungkook wasn't happy about the fact that his time with you was over but he still picked up his stuff and got up. Throwing on his shoes he got ready to leave and opened the door. "That dress looks really nice on you" He said softly, making you blush at the unexpected compliment.

"Thank you, Jungkook" You mumbled before ushering him out of your apartment. Picking up your phone, you saw a text from Yoongi. "I'm under your building, can I come up?" The text said and was accompanied by a selfie of him pouting. "The door is open" You replied and ran to fix your hair. Quickly changing into some comfortable clothes, you opened the door when the bell rang.

Walking back towards his frat house, he heard someone call his name. "Hey hyung" Jungkook said to Yoongi. He asked his hyung where he was headed. "I'm going to y/n's place. Thank you for bringing her to the party. She's a really nice person and I hope things work out between us" He said, smiling. Jungkook bid his friend adieu and waited for a few minutes before walking back to your apartment building. There was a small park in the complex where he found a place to sit and pulled out his laptop. He opened the camera feed of your house.

"Come in" Yoongi stepped inside and took off his shoes and sat down on the couch. You grabbed two bottles of beer and handed him one before settling down on the couch next to him. Leaning back against the soft cushions, you let Yoongi pick a movie for the both of you to watch.

Jungkook sat back on the bench, making himself as comfortable as he could because he knew it was going to be a while before he could get up. He kept an eye on the fees as you cuddled into Yoongi's side, his arm around you. Jungkook really wished he could saw off the elder's hand as he watched it tighten.

You were only half paying attention to the movie as the other half of you was hyperaware of the gorgeous man sitting next to you. He smelled of citrus and lavender, two of your most favourite scents. Your heart did little summersaults as he tightened his arm around you. Yoongi turned to look as you and before you knew it, he was inching closer and closer to you.

Jungkook watched the scene unfold as Yoongi pressed his lips against your and pulled out his phone quickly to call Namjoon. He knew that his friend was the only person who could help him right now. "Hyung, can you do me a favour? Call Yoongi hyung and tell him to go to your studio quickly. I'll explain everything soon. Just tell him your composition submission got preponed or something"

Yoongi was pushing your shoulder down onto the couch to straddle you when his phone rang. He ignored it at first but later have you an apologetic look and picked up the phone. "What is it? Wait really? Okay I'll be there in two hours. The submission is in an hour and a half? I'll come now, wait up for me"

"Got cockblocked by Namjoon and the professor. I have an urgent submission in an hour and Namjoon needs my help. I promise we'll continue this later, okay?" Jungkook smiled as he saw Yoongi hurry out of your house, overlooking the peck he gave you on your lips as he left. Jungkook pulled his hood up and hid behind the bench as he saw Yoongi hurry by.

You touched yourself to the thought of Yoongi touching you for the second time that night. The way his rough hands layed gently across your skin, as if you were made of glass and the lust filled look in his eyes had you coming in no time.

Jungkook for the second time jerked off to you touching yourself and moaning Yoongi's name. He was angry and jealous and it just made him want you more. He wanted to break you till you knew nothing but his name. He wanted to see you mutter his name like a prayer as you came over and over again.

A few weeks later you finally were able to have sex with Yoongi without getting interrupted. It started with Yoongi sneaking into your English class and placing his hand on your thigh as you tried to pay attention to your professor and ended up with you pressed against the door of the washroom, Yoongi balls deep inside you. His lips captured yours to keep you from moaning too loudly.

While all of this was going down, Jungkook was hanging out with Seokjin and Hoseok, waiting around before he could leave to go to your place. He tapped his feet nervously, a weird feeling creeping up his spine, as if something bad was about to happen.

Yoongi was absolutely mind blowing even in the cramped space of the washroom. He fucked you to oblivion as you fell apart in his arms. When you told him that you were a virgin, he made sure you were okay with your first time being in such a setting and took extra care to be gentle with you. You fell for him more and more with every second you spent with him. You whispered 'God, I like you so much' as you came and Yoongi whispered 'I like you a lot too' back.

Jungkook as usual arrived in time to your apartment. The door opened and there you were, dressed in a turtle neck and sweatpants. Jungkook noticed your outfit change but put it off as you changing to get comfortable.

You were really hot in your turtleneck but you didn't want to take it off because Yoongi had decided to cover your entire neck with hickeys. You didn't have enough time to cover it with concealer so you had the wonderful idea of wearing a thick woollen sweater in moderate weather. You kept fiddling with the neck of the sweater as you taught Jungkook.

Jungkook noticed that you were uncomfortable and when he glanced at your hand playing with the neck of the sweater, he noticed a small purple mark on your skin. He was taken aback for a moment. It couldn't be a hickey, could it? His eyes must have been playing tricks on him, he thought.

You were fed up of the heat and decided to roll your collar down. It was just you and Jungkook in the room. It was a little scandalous but you were willing to endure the judging but not the heat. As expected, Jungkook's neck immediately were glued to your neck as soon as you moved the fabric away.

Jungkook struggled to hold in a gasp as he saw you roll down the fabric of your sweater to see your neck decorated with countless blue and purple hickeys. He tried his best to ignore it but he could feel his blood boiling. He knew that it was most probably Yoongi who marked you but he hoped it was someone else because he knew he wouldn't be able to control himself in front of his hyung if it was indeed he who was responsible for the marks on your neck.

You were a little uncomfortable because of the blatant staring but you ignored it. Soon you were done with what you had planned on teaching for the day and Jungkook left. You changed out of the sweater and took a shower, changing into a tank top and shorts. Your shoulders were also covered in marks and you groaned thinking about how much concealer you'd have to waste to cover them up. You couldn't help smile though as you thought about how amazing Yoongi made you feel.

Jungkook reached his frat house to see Yoongi grabbing his keys to leave. He was dressed smarter than usual. Yoongi was a man who walked around in track pants and t shirts all day so seeing him in jeans and a leather jacket was new. He smiled at Jungkook before rushing out of the house.

You called Yoongi home not long after Jungkook left. You hadn't planned on doing much, maybe watching a movie or something but Yoongi seemed to have other plans. He insisted he wanted to show you what true pleasure was you just couldn't refuse him. What started with just kissing on the couch soon led to both of you undressing in your bedroom.

"Wanna go out for a drink?" Seokjin asked and Jungkook agreed. He didn't like going out often but he really needed a drink. Hoseok accompanied them and they went to a local club that they often visited. Jungkook wasn't in the mood to get wasted but he did drink more than usual. His friends on the other hand got really drunk and Jungkook had to calm them both down and call a taxi to get them back home.

While the sex in the morning was rushed, Yoongi took his sweet time with you at home. He ate you out properly, his tounge playing with your clit as he pulled orgasm after orgasm out of your body. By the time he actually started fucking you, your body had gone boneless. It was slow and sweet, as Yoongi focused on your pleasure instead of his own. He made you feel things you didn't know could be felt.

Jungkook finally got both of his friends to sleep and headed to his bedroom. He opened his laptop and heard moaning noises coming from it. Thinking it was some porn website he forgot to close, he realised his browser wasn't open. What was open though, was the camera feed from your house. Panic rising in Jungkook's system, he opened the application to see Yoongi over you, making love to you and he saw red.

You both cuddled in bed afterwards with Yoongi's body pressed against yours, his hand playing with your hair. He had helped you clean up which ended up with you two showering together. Though you didn't have sex in there, it felt oddly intimate and you really enjoyed it He hummed a random song, lulling you to sleep.

Papers flew around and things were thrown here and there as Jungkook tried to control his anger. He had to get rid of Yoongi. That was the only way this was going to work. That was the only way Jungkook was going to have you to himself, just like he wanted. Putting in his shoes, he rushed out of the house to buy a couple of things. Yoongi needed to go, as soon as possible.

The next few days went well especially between you and Yoongi. He would crash often at your place and finally asked you out properly. You both went on a few dates and did silly things together. You could feel yourself falling for him, fast. You had a class with Jungkook about a week after Yoongi first slept with you. It went normally, though Jungkook was a bit more quite than usual.

During the class at your place, Jungkook looked for a single opportunity to grab your phone and that came when you went to grab a snack from the kitchen. He quickly sent a text to Yoongi from it, asking him to come over to your place at three the next day. He replied with a simple 'okay' and Jungkook quickly deleted both the original text and Yoongi's reply just before you walked back into the room.

The next day, you were busy with classes and decided to call Yoongi over in the evening to relieve some stress. You were just about to text him when Jungkook approached you, asking you for some help with his philosophy work. By the time you both were done, it was 2:45 and you apologised to Jungkook and left because you had a class at three.

Yoongi got to your place at three to see the door locked and something at the doorstep. He kneeled down to see a small boquet of flowers and a note. The note read 'I'm sorry. I love you. Don't look for me'. Yoongi was about to pull his phone out to call you when he felt someone place a cloth against his mouth. He struggled to get out of the person's grip but before he could do anything, everything went black.

When you got back home, you saw a boquet of your favourite flowers and a note waiting at your doorstep. You read through the note as a tear slipped down your cheek. You realised which flowers they were. 'Forget-me-nots' they were called. You had told Yoongi once that you loved those flowers. You tried to call him but his phone was switched off. You were disturbed by the note and ran to Yoongi's frat house to find out what was going on.

When Yoongi regained consciousness, he realised he was tied to a chair. Looking at his surroundings he saw the walls of the room he was in, covered with photos. There were hundreds of them. They all looked to be photos of the same person. His eyes were a little unfocused from whatever knocked him out but when he looked at the pictures more carefully, he realised who they were of and his eyes widened.

"We haven't seen Yoongi since the morning. He left for classes as usual. I'll try calling him" Hoseok told you as you arrived at Yoongi's frat house. Everyone except for Jungkook and Yoongi were there and they all tried to contact Yoongi but to no avail. Namjoon decided to contact Jungkook if he had heard anything about the whereabouts of their friend.

"I saw Yoongi hyung last this morning before I left the house. Is he okay?" Jungkook enquired. Namjoon told the boy about the note that Yoongi had left. If only Namjoon could see the smirk on Jungkook's face as he spoke to him over the phone. The younger male promised to let everyone know if he met Yoongi and cut the call.

"This is really unlike Yoongi hyung. He wouldn't do something like this. Something's wrong" Jimin commented and you nodded. Something about the note that Yoongi left you out you off. You stared at it for what felt like an eternity before Taehyung said that they all should look around town for Yoongi. Stuffing the note into your pocket, you joined the rest of the boys and left the house.

"Y/n" Yoongi whispered as is hit him that the photos were of you. There were so many of them. Ones with you at the local café, at the park, in class, in your house. There were even photos of you changing. Yoongi noticed a pattern spray painted on with red paint over some of the photos. He leaned back a little in his chair to get a better view of the pattern. His jaw dropped as he realised that it wasn't a pattern. It was instead the words "you're mine".

The worry really set in when you guys looked all around the town and found not a single trace of Yoongi. Some of his classmates told you that he had headed off campus after class. Namjoon advised you to go back home and get some sleep because it was getting late. Reluctantly you agreed and went back to your apartment. You asked the guard under your building if he had seen Yoongi and he said that he had seen him come in at about three but he had left for break after that and didn't see him leave.

"She's pretty, isn't she" Yoongi turns his head around to see a man walking into the room. He stands behind Yoongi and places hand on his shoulder. Due to how close the man was standing, Yoongi couldn't identify him but the voice sounded familiar. Yoongi muttered "Fuck you" and the man chuckled. The day was full of surprises for Yoongi as he realised why the voice sounded familiar.

You paced up and down your bedroom trying to figure out where Yoongi could be. You had contacted his parents and they told you that he hadn't mentioned that he would be coming home and promised to let you know if he did come to Daegu. You sat down on your table and pulled the note out of your pocket. Something about the note was wrong but you just couldn't tell what it was. You were about to give up when you noticed the open notebook on your desk.

"Jungkook?" Yoongi said, his voice full of shock. "Took you long enough to figure out" Jungkook stepped in front of the man and smirked at Yoongi's dumbfounded expression. "What is all of this?" Yoongi asked and Jungkook dipped his hand inside his pocket, pulling out a small hunting knife. It had a serrated edge meant for tearing through things instead of slicing. Jungkook leaned forward and traced the knife along Yoongi's forehead.

The notebook in front of you was your philosophy book that you used to explain Jungkook concepts. You also wrote test questions in the book for him to answer. As you read one of the answers Jungkook had written, it clicked. You immediately called up Namjoon and told him that you had figured out who took Yoongi and quickly sprinted to the frat house.

"You see, the y/n that you've been 'dating' I'd actually my little babygirl. I've been waiting for months to get to her and when I just about did, you had to get in the middle and make her fall in love with you. You even fucked her, didn't you? She was meant to be mine. Mine to take and mine to have. I was supposed to be the one to deflower her and worship her body but you got to her first. It doesn't matter though. I'll make sure she doesn't remember your touch on her skin. She'll only know my name and nothing else. I should just take her away to a place with no one else but the two of us. I could treat her like the queen she is" Jungkook said, putting more pressure on the knife.

"The handwriting, it's not Yoongi's, it's Jungkook's" Seokjin gasped as the rest of them looked at you in disbelief. You showed them the picture you had clicked. It had the note next to the answer he had written in your book and the handwriting was exactly the same. "But why would Kookie do anything to Yoongi? When we called him he told us he hasn't met Yoongi" Hoseok said and you nodded. Something was missing and you ran to Jungkook's room to investigate.

"You're a sick bastard" Yoongi gritted, making Jungkook chuckle. "Well I would have just straight up killed you but looking at your attitude, it seems like it'd be more fun to torture you for touching what's mine" Yoongi looked confused. "But why her? You hadn't even met her before the tutoring started" Jungkook's eyes went blank for a moment. He stepped back from Yoongi and turned towards the wall covered in your photos before leaning his head against it.

Jungkook's bedroom looked like an average college student's room. You saw his laptop lying on his table and picked it up. The boys entered the room as you tried to unlock the pc. "Do anyone know what the password could be?" You asked them. You had tried all different combinations and had only one try left. Either the computer would unlock or it would lock permanently till it was professionally unlocked. "I know this may sound weird, but try your name" You looked at him with a confused expression but still followed what he said, typing your name into the password bar and held your breath as you hit enter.

"You remember Jisoo?" Yoongi nodded. The Seven of Beta Theta Sigma had gone to high school together. Kim Jisoo was a girl in Yoongi's grade. She was also Yoongi's exgirlfriend. She had disappeared out of nowhere one day and the whole acity searched for her but she was never found. That was until one day her body was mysteriously found at the banks of the local river. She was brutally murdered with knife marks all over her face. The word "MINE" was carved into her forehead. "Well you see.." Jungkook paused.

You didn't know whether to be happy or worried about the fact that the laptop unlocked. You saw an app open and checked it. It took like a camera feed of some sort. The place that the cameras were recording looked familiar. "Is that your house?" Jimin asked. You knew that a lot of people from the college lived in your building and it was very much possible that the boys knew what the apartments looked like. You nodded as you looked through the rest of his computer to find a folder full of photos. "Guys, you should take a look at this" Namjoon's voice sounded slightly scared as he looked you in the eyes.

"Jisoo had been my first crush. I thought he was the most beautiful human to ever exist. I wanted her to be my girlfriend. But unfortunately, she fell for you. I tried everything I could to get her to like me but she was madly in love with you. I did the only thing I thought was a viable option and kidnapped her. I held her here, in this very room for months. She was mine and only mine. That all changed the day she tried to escape. I just couldn't imagine her running back to you, away from me and so I held he down and carved the word "MINE" into her forehead so that she wouldn't leave me. But she still tried to run so I stabbed her. I tried to keep her from going and ended up killing her. I disposed her body off carefully so that no one would know I did it" Yoongi couldn't believe the words he was hearing.

You put the laptop down and grabbed the camera that Namjoon was holding. It was full of photos of you. Some of them were taken even before you had met him. Hoseok called your name and you turned back to the laptop to see the photos in the folder. They were all of you, some of them even showed you to be half naked. You were scared both for yourself and Yoongi. You just couldn't process what was going on. "Guys I think I know where he is" Taehyung said out of nowhere.

"Once I killed Jisoo, I felt alone. That's when I first saw y/n. She was even more beautiful that Jisoo, something I never thought was possible. But just like last time, you got in the middle and made her fall in love with you. The best thing to do now is to get rid of and then take her. Keep her here, with me, forever. She'll be mine and only mine" Jungkook said. What the raven haired man hadn't noticed was that which Jungkook was busy talking about Jisoo and you, Yoongi had successfully untied his hands from behind the chair.

"Jungkook took me to his old house once. You can't call it a house, it's more like a dingy basement. It's where he had grown up. Being an orphan, he had found the basement to be his safe space which he called home. I found the place really creepy so I never went there again but I know where it is" Taehyung explained as he drove to this mysterious place. You were squashed in the back of the car between Hoseok, Seokjin and Jimin. Namjoon sat in the front while Taehyung drove. You could feel your heart racing. Even though you'd only know Yoongi for a short period of time you realised you had actually fallen for him.

"You're not going to lay a finger on her" Yoongi gritted which made Jungkook turn around. Yoong kicked the younger man between his legs and successfully disarmed him, grabbing the knife for himself. Jungkook was fast though and he kicked Yoongi hard in the shin which made him fall and drop the knife. Jungkook was about to pick up the knife when Yoongi kicked it far away. "So you want to do this the hard way?" Jungkook hissed as he pulled a gun out of his pocket.

You were running towards the basement with the boys behind you when you saw Jungkook pointing his gun at Yoongi. "NO!" You screamed as Jungkook's attention shifted to you. Unfortunately had did too as he pulled the trigger. It was Yoongi who screamed this time. The boys tackled Jungkook as Yoongi held you in his arms. You were losing blood from the shot in your stomach. He rushed you to the car and sped to the hospital while Jimin called the police.

Jungkook was taken away by the cops shortly after. He was charged with kidnapping, attempted murder, voluntary manslaughter and stalking amongst other things. He was tried and found guilty, sentenced to 20 years in prison. The last thing he said before being taken away was "I'll be back for y/n".

You opened your eyes and saw only white. You wondered if you were in heaven but quickly came to your senses. Yoongi next to you noticed you stir and called the doctor. "The wound could have been fatal but you were lucky" He said before letting you know that you could leave in a few days. Yoongi spent those days with you by your side. He explained everything that happened. You struggled to believe everything he told you but the news coverage of it was enough to convince you.

Things were going alright till one day, a week after the incident with Jungkook when you and Yoongi were watching the news together. "Jeon Jungkook who was found guilty of kidnapping, voluntary manslaughter and stalking was found brutally murdered in his cell last night. This was apparently a result of a scuffle between him and Kin Donghyun, father of Kim Jisoo who had been falsely charge for the murder of his daughter. He was to be released since in a few days as the real culprit had been caught, that real culprit being Jeon Jungkook" The news anchor reported.

Yoongi tightened his grip on your arm as you dropped the boquet in your hand. You really wish you could rename the flower's name to 'forget-mes' instead of 'forget-me-nots' because you really didn't want to remember Jungkook. You stared at the grave for a few more minutes before you took a deep breath and walked away. Yoongi held the door open for you as you stepped in, taking one last look at the cemetery before Yoongi drove back home, moving on from it all, forever.

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lustresky · 4 years

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all i ask [peter parker x f!reader]

summary: You question your true feelings for Peter after missing out on five years of your life.

wc: 2400ish.

themes: angst(ish), fluff, happy endings, best friends to lovers trope, mention of dermatillomania, existential questionings...

a/n: this is the first x reader that i have ever written, so sorry in advance if it’s awkward:’’’) english also isn’t my first language, so please do hit me up if i make any mistakes/some things sound wrong! still, i hope that some of you out there will still like this lil thing. i just want to keep peter in my pocket gawd what a bby:’’’’’’’( p.s. title is a song by adele! just had to name this that cuz it unexpectedly came into my playlist while i was writing this and the song just fit so well that it shocked me haha

requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER ENDGAME, RIGHT BEFORE FFH. IT EXCLUDES THE LOVE STORY BETWEEN LIZ & PETER IN HOMECOMING.

available on ao3.

The rom-com flickered on the screen in front of your and Peter’s eyes, the only light illuminating the small living room.

Your legs were sprawled on top of Peter’s own, your arms becoming a bit numb from the fact that you haven’t moved them from their cramp inducing position for the past fifteen minutes. It wasn’t your fault— the small sofa could only leave you and Peter enough space to lounge about.

He had invited you over for some much needed “hang out” time. Considering the fact that both of you had missed out on five years of your life, you had suggested you both catch up on all of the movies the two of you had missed; but one thing led to another and now you were both watching late 90’s and early 2000’s films.

You were surprised, and maybe even mildly offended, when Peter had said that he had never watched Mean Girls nor Clueless. The boy who spew out pop comic references every other second had never watched the classics for every teenage girl? The blasphemy!

You fiddled with the fluffy throw covering your legs and partially, Peter’s. Your attention wasn’t really on the movie anymore, you’d seen it multiple times. Could probably recite it by heart, you thought, if you concentrated hard enough.

Speaking of concentration, your eyes inadvertently found their spot upon Peter’s face. It was quite funny, and maybe even adorable if you wanted to go that way, how concentrated the geeky boy was over such a cliché film. You had never once thought, with all of the years that you had known him, that he would listen and take Cher Horowitz’s words to heart.

Peter didn’t notice your gaze, and so you took that as an unspoken permission to roam your eyes over his features: the small lines already appearing beside his eyes, a tell-tale sign of how much he smiled— or at least, tried to, these days. There were those chiseled cheeks and the sharp jawline that he somehow managed to maintain despite eating delivery food every other day. (You can’t blame May, she tries her best, really; but sometimes Thai or Chinese is just way more palatable.) His nose, a bit crooked, from an ”accident.“ (You still don’t really know the exact details about that one, and frankly, you think it would hurt just hearing about it.) Soft curls of his brown hair fell over his forehead, messy and barely brushed.

Truly, you could probably spend a whole hour just staring at him. It’s weird, you know, who the hell stares at their own best friend for long periods of time? Well, MJ probably does, but then again she draws people most of the time so that’s socially allowed... and well— she’s MJ. She just… does that. You suppose.

Maybe she does have a point, you mused. People-watching seemed fun, seeing the way that people processed information was interesting, but you couldn’t really imagine doing that to anyone— anyone else but Peter, at least.

You loved Peter. It wasn’t even a question. Truly, you did— he was family. However, after the Snap, you started to question how you truly felt about him.

Did you ‘love’ him? You had asked yourself that question multiple times already. Then again, he was cute, goal-oriented, stubborn, loyal, smart, geeky, strong... (not just physically, between his difficult childhood and what you both had just gone through, you think that he may just be the strongest person that you know, mentally.) He knew how to make you laugh, how to make you feel safe… God, he was your exact type.

However, you had always put your feelings aside ever since you came back from the dead. What if it was just your mind craving for affection, afraid that you would never be able to experience the love that you had always wanted? Were you just terrified of the thought of not living your life to the fullest, that you started to ’love’ the first person to have ever given you warmth, just because the choice to do so was taken away from you?

Did you actually love him in that way? Would you still have loved him in that way, even if that purple fucking raisin didn’t come out of the fucking sky and take you both away from reality without even asking? Were you just blindsided? Were you wearing rose-coloured glasses?

What type of love for him did you feel, exactly?

It didn’t really help that Peter was way more clingy and touchy now. Sure, you were best friends even before then, but you never really touched each other so often before. His actions only further spiraled your pondering.

His hands seemed to linger more on your shoulders, nowadays. Now, he would, absentmindedly, lay his hands on your thighs while you were talking. Now, his hugs were tighter, warmer, and always included both of his arms— unlike those casual, one armed hugs that you would give each other while saying goodbye after school, right before you both ceased existing.

While talking, his eyes seemed to stare straight into yours, which always made you falter with your words before you shook his gaze off. Once, you saw him fixating his eyes on your lips while you vented to him about a mathematical formula that gave you a hard time.

He never really did that before— whenever you didn’t understand something, he would always just give you a small grin before shaking his head and finding a way to better explain the topic to you. At first, you thought that maybe he just had a lot on his mind, that he was just staring into space…

Or maybe, just maybe, he loved you. In that way.

Though, now that you thought more about it, maybe he just craved affection like you did. He went through a lot. His life was never devoid of danger, and it wasn’t questionable to want comfort after all of the things that he had gone through. Did he truly feel that way about you, or did he only see you as a comfort tool? You wouldn’t be angry if he did, out of all the people that you knew that deserved more reassurance and love, he was definitely on top of the list.

You didn’t mind. You understood.

Was he in the same boat as you?

You startled yourself away from your thoughts when Peter suddenly retracted his body further back into the couch, as if he wanted to bury himself in it. His brows were furrowed, nose scrunched, lips curled up in disgust; though to your relief his eyes were still glued to the screen and he hadn’t just seen you checking him out. You chuckled at the unexpected reaction, “What’s gotten you so worked up?”

Peter shook his head from side to side, as if that would help him from his current situation. “I get that they aren’t really related, but it’s just— weird.” He replied.

Intrigued, you shifted your eyes over to the screen, and was welcomed by Cher and Josh kissing. You laughed at Peter’s disgust.

“How is it weird? They’ve had— like, very evident tension for half of the movie, Pete.” You replied, eyes watching the way Josh held Cher’s face in his hands. As much as you would never admit it, your stomach fluttered at the scene. “Don’t tell me you didn’t expect it to happen.”

Peter groaned. “It’s not that I didn’t expect it to happen, it’s just— Josh is what, almost twenty or something? And Cher is our age!” He rattled off. “I’m having flashbacks to when I learned that Luke and Leia were actually related.”

You shook your head and let out a snort. Typical Peter, always finding a way to reference Star Wars.

“It’s just a lil’ kiss scene Pete, don’t get so worked up about it.” You chuckled. You let out a dreamy sigh, your lip unknowingly curling into a small smile. Truth be told, you've always wanted something so passionate yet so soft like that to happen to you.

You couldn’t help but let the next words tumble out of your mouth. “Isn’t it romantic though? The fact that the person that Cher has been searching and looking for so hard was actually just right there.”

“Always there…” Your voice slowly found itself becoming quieter, until it was only a ghost of a whisper. “Right by your side.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. What the fuck was all that sudden sentimental bullshit, Y/N? You thought to yourself.

You hoped that Peter just didn’t pick up on what you had just said. The movie was loud enough to cover it, right?

With a reassuring breath, mostly to yourself, you turned your gaze back to Peter’s face.

Only to find him staring back at you.

Fuck, what were you thinking? With his enhanced senses, of course he would’ve heard what you had said.

Your breath got caught in your throat as your brain almost short circuited from the unexpected eye contact. His stare was unrelenting; from the dim light of the television, you can see his dilated irises, swimming with what you can only assume was longing… and hope.

The air suddenly seemed thick with tension. What kind it was? You weren’t really sure, but the movie and its noises were now just background noise and lighting. From the corner of your eyes, you see Peter’s Adam apple bob up and down as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Y/N…” He started, slowly, seemingly unsure of how to word his sentence. You mustered up a small bit of courage and sent him a small smile, patiently waiting for his brain to catch up with his mouth. It was one of his quirks that you adored so much, how much he struggled with the right words to say, because he knew the gravity of them; even if he did end up just spewing them out in the end.

“I— I don’t really know how to say this exactly, but,” Peter chewed on his bottom lip. “God I just— I just need to man up and say it because it’s been on my mind ever since I came back and I don’t think I can put it off any longer because I’m scared that you’ll disappear again and that I’ll never have the chance to say the truth and I—“ He stopped in his tracks, seemingly running out of words to say. His head dropped to look at his lap, as he started fidgeting with his hands and picking at his cuticles. A nervous tick that you recognized.

You straightened up from your lounging position, and slowly reached out your arms to lay your own hands on top of his, effectively gaining his attention and stopping his quite destructive habit. Bit by bit, he faced you once more; albeit now his eyes seemed to be more glassy.

“Y/N,” He took a shaky breath. “You— you mean so much to me.“ His eyes stared straight through you, and by now you felt your eyes start getting teary too.

“When it was happening I— all I could think about was how I felt about you. I— I felt so fucking selfish. I didn’t even think about Aunt May— or Ned, or MJ. All I thought about was how much I regretted not telling you how I actually felt about you sooner— that I’ll never be able to tell you how much I actually fucking loved you—“

Instinctively, you cut him off with your index placed on his lips. Now it was your turn to let out a shaky breath as your hand descended and found itself laying once more on Peter’s own.

Peter loved you. Even before the snap. Even before you disappeared.

The sight of Peter in front of you: vulnerable, hair ruffled, cheeks and nose and the tips of his ears red, his eyes watering as he poured his heart out to you was the moment that answered all of your doubts from before.

That was when you realized that you loved him, too. Truly. Without a doubt.

You loved him before everything went to hell, you still love him now, and fuck, you would still love him even if you hadn’t died. You weren’t wearing rose-coloured glasses, hell, far from it. You were seeing everything clearly. You were seeing everything just the way that they are.

You opened your lips, and a strangled but genuine giggle came out. “Pete, I love you too. I’ve loved you since— fuck, I can’t even remember when I actually started fucking loving you. You’ve been such a constant in my life that I questioned myself whether I truly loved you romantically, because I’m also a fucking idiot that thought that the type of love that I had for you was only platonic. Turns out they’re both one and the same.” You were laughing now, with a few hiccups here and there from the hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

“And shut up— you aren’t selfish,” With a new wave of courage, you lifted up one of your hands again and cradled his face. He leaned into it, impulsively, sniffling. “You’re one of the most selfless people that I know, hell, you put yourself in danger for people that you don’t even fucking know. I… I honestly think you could use more selfishness sometimes.” You laughed, softly, trying to regain a bit more composure with the tidal wave of emotions washing through you.

Peter, thankfully, found your quip funny. He snorted, shaking his head, as he lifted the sleeve of his Midtown Tech hoodie up to wipe at his tears. He wiped yours too, and you thanked him with a genuine smile.

All hearts now bared, you both just stared at each other, not really knowing what else to say nor do. From what you could tell, the movie was over now, the ending scene just slowly rolling in as it always does.

You opened your mouth, about to break the silence, when Peter beat you to it.

“Can I kiss you?”

A chuckle escaped your mouth before you could reply properly, and a huge grin overtook your face as your cheeks heated up once more. You squeezed his hands, and nodded.

Peter leaned in, and you had never felt more at peace.

#lily’s lil’ stories #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #fanfic #ff #x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #spiderman #spiderman x reader #one shot #angst #best friends to lovers #fluff #subtle (not really) movie references #existential musings #pete n reader's been thru a lot ok:(

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alpaca-writes · 3 years

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Mystics, Chapter 11

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six] [chapter seven] [chapter eight] [chapter nine] [chapter ten]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump (let me know if you want to be removed)

CW: claustrophobia, getting lost, deadname use, bullying, noncon touching (nonsexual), knife whump, torture, flaying.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE PAST IS SPENT AND DONE WITH

“What a fucking freak,” Marcus sneered. The jeering of all three kids bounced off the brick walls as they left Mystics alone for the rest of the evening.

“How much was there?” Jess tugged at his arm, breaking away from Kyle to do so. “I have my eye on one of those Kate Spade purses”-

“Definitely not enough for a Kate Spade here,” Marcus sniffed. He twitched flicked his head to the side, sweeping strawberry blond curls off to one side. He’d repeat the process in another minute.

Jess pouted her lips at Kyle who peered back with a scowl.

“I’m not spending my third on that,” he refused. “I’d rather lift one”-

“Oh, but they’re all mag-tagged,” she explained. “Can’t lift one without setting off the alarms”-

Marcus stopped at the corner looking at a silhouette standing there, not moving. The rest of the streets were empty.

“Maybe we should cross,” he said.

“Nah, he’s just some old homeless guy.” Kyle muttered. “Why would he care”-

“I care! If ----- decides to snitch, then all they need is another witness. My rep will be ruined,” Marcus said emphatically. He flipped his head again. “Then that’s that, No college hockey for me. It only takes a little more than an accusation these days and I’m out.”

“There are cameras across the street,” Jess pointed out. “Let’s take the alleys.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. In the short time the three had bickered about which way to go, the man at the corner had disappeared again. The other two had already decided to head down the alleys, almost leaving Kyle behind in the decision.

They turned at the end of the alley where they were met with a T and a brick wall. They turned right.

There was another T intersection, and again, the three were met with a brick wall. Marcus shrugged, and turned left. Eventually they would reach the edge of seventeenth street.

Brick wall.

“What the…” Marcus mouthed to himself. Jess laughed breathily at him as he tried to understand where he needed to go.

“Just forget it, we’ll take the road, you dummy,” she exclaimed, thoroughly entertained by him.

She turned right.

At the end of that alley, there was yet again another brick wall.

“Wait,” she huffed. Looking down either end of the alleys, they only saw darknesses lying there.

Kyle chuckled, “Oh yeah, you guys remember that screen saver on those old Microsoft computers?”

Marcus hardly heard him. Like, Jess, he was now extremely confused.

Kyle continued, “like those old brick wall mazes that it would send you through and… wait… did they ever end? I can’t remember if they ended”-

“Nobody cares, Ky,” Marcus said abruptly. “Let’s turn around.”

“You don’t like it here?”

“Holy fuck,” Kyle exclaimed, while all three of them jumped out of their skin. A man in a simple button up shirt stood to address them. He was standing about ten feet away.

Marcus started first.

“Uh, hey, man. We’re just trying to find our way back to the road. Could you tell us where to go?”

The man looked as though he was pondering the answer for a moment.

“The road?” Lyrem tapped his chin. “No, I don’t know of any roads here.”

Marcus feigned a grin, “you’re funny. That’s… that’s very funny.”

Pulling Jess by the hand, he led her past the man. Jess pulled Kyle, and Lyrem simply looked on as they went by.

“Just ignore him,” Marcus advised, whispering.

They turned left, back the way they came, and then right, only to see the same man standing in front of them again.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck is happening?” Jess questioned in a mild panic.

“I know!” Lyrem exclaimed excitedly. He approached them, regarding the walls proudly with his hands behind his back. “It’s almost as bad as the Musei Vaticani, isn’t it?”

“What is he saying?” Kyle whispered to the others.

“I dunno! I don’t speak Spanish,” Marcus hissed back.

“Guys, he’s coming closer.” Jess interrupted.

“Now, now,” Lyrem tutted to them, smiling. “I was hoping you three would split up by now. It’s much easier to transport you separately-

-Oh dear… Odd question, do I sound like a human trafficker to you?”

They didn’t answer him. Jess backed away to hide behind the two boys.

“Arch always tells me I sound rather… disturbing. I’m beginning to wonder if they might be right…”

“Arch?” Marcus spit.

Lyrem nodded. His face lit up with a sudden realization. Remembering why he was there, he held out his hand.

“I would like to take back what was stolen from Mystics, if you don’t mind.”

Marcus swallowed his fear. He reached into his back pocket, pulling out the wad of paper bills.

“Yeah, here, take it. Look, I- I am sorry for what we… what we did.” Marcus stammered forcefully. There was already too much trouble to deal with for a few measly hundred dollars. Lyrem snatched it away with a quick hand.

Lyrem paid him no attention as he counted the cas, regularly licking his thumb as he did so. At the end of the apology, and the count, he sighed. Looking back at the boys with his brow raised. It seems as though Jess had already left them behind.

“I appreciate it. Honesty is quite a rare thing to find in children these days,” he answered them, placing the cash in his back pocket.

Kyle turned around, noticing the absence of the thin fingers with long black nails that usually brushed up against his own. He looked over his shoulder.

“Where’s Jess?”

Marcus turned. Seeing nothing but bricks and Kyle, he shook his head and shrugged.

“I’m sure you’ll see her again soon.” Lyrem assured. “Well, this is all I came back for, so I think I will be on my way now.”

Lyrem turned his back on the boys, and strolled off further into the alley.

“Hey,” Marcus hollered. He chased after Lyrem like he was a life line. “We’ll follow you out”-

The man was gone. He entered the darkness through a doorway the others couldn’t see.

“Ky, I think he’s gone now, we need to find Jess and- Ky?”

There was no answer. Marcus spun in several circles before resorting to accept that Kyle had left him behind.

He ran to the other end of the alley, finding nothing but a brick wall again. In frustrated panic, he slammed his fists against it, as though he imagined it to be a door. It was just red brick; solid and rough against his skin. There was no left or right turn here; the corners were engulfed in shadows. He turned around-

Brick wall.

He was boxed in. Alone.

What little light existed above him before slowly dimmed to nothing. Feeling the weight of the walls grow in closer to him, Marcus curled in on himself. Lyrem didn’t lie about him finding Jess again soon. She would awake beside him after he was finished carrying their boxes into the back room- an hour or so before the three of them had entered Mystics.

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Week One.

“Keep your eyes closed.”

Arch stood in the back alley of Mystics. Lyrem had asked them to close early so that he could show them a surprise in the back- a new, very valuable item that he was extremely excited to show off. He was insistent that Arch be the first to see it. Reluctantly, but albeit curiously, Arch did as they were told and closed their eyes. They heard the backroom door open with a hydraulic groan. Lyrem reached out to their hands to lead them through carefully.

“Alright, now this will be an odd request, but I also need you to hold your breath until I say it’s alright.”

Arch exhaled in a chuckle. “What?”

“Promise me, Arch.” Lyrem didn’t sound quite as amused.

“Alright, alright, I promise. I won’t breathe, and I won’t open my eyes until you say so.”

“Okay, here we go,” Lyrem pulled them forward until they were over the threshold. They led them through a few further steps… The labyrinth was inactive. That was good. It meant that neither of them had broken the rules. He heard the door shut. “You can breathe and open your eyes now.”

There was a clapping sound from Lyrem’s hands. Arch was almost expecting a surprise party for themselves as they opened their eyes. Disappointed, they saw the plain grey walls of a large backroom warehouse instead. Poorly lit as it was, there were a couple spare tables, several chairs and multiple rows of shelving filled with variously sized boxes and random objects.

“What was the point of that?” Arch looked back at the door.

“It’s keeps you from being pulled into the wrong… room.” Lyrem said. “This door leads to more than just here and the alley way. There’s a third place it can lead, and it’s impossible to find the way out from it.”

Arch looked at them with raised brows. Then they looked concerned, furrowing them, they produced a couple wrinkles above the bridge of their nose.

“Do you need me to get you a glass of water, or something?” There must have been some kind of medication that Lyrem needed to prevent certain… strangenesses from evolving. Arch thought perhaps that duty had lived and left with his wife Maria. They wouldn’t mind picking up the responsibility if it meant that Lyrem could maintain his sanity- but he had to tell them what he needed first.

“No, no.” he refused. “Actually, I need your hand, if you please.”

Arch’s eyes widened. “My hand?”

Lyrem nodded. Arch lifted their right hand. Lyrem asked for the opposite.

Arch lifted their left instead; a fresh red scar about an inch in length on display.

Lyrem held one hand on a knife unsheathed from his pocket, hidden behind his back. He met Arch’s confused gaze with an apologetic smile.

“Memorias reditus,” he said. Gripping Arch’s hand tightly, he sliced the blade into their scar, fresh blood dripped to the floor as they cried out angrily and in shock. Arch pulled their hand back, cradling it with the other.

“Fucking hell, Lyrem!”

“Apologies, Arch. It is a necessary deed, I’m afraid.” Lyrem shrugged, and wiped down the knife on a stray piece of fabric.

Arch grimaced and checked their hand over. The cut was deep and very sore- throbbing with their pulse. Lyrem had reopened a wound on them that was still healing over. Arch looked at him, still convinced that Lyrem was well and truly off his rocker in a dangerous way. He was leaning his hip against a metal table, waiting for a reaction from them.

“I... I think I need stitches, Lyrem. Look, I know that things have been difficult for you since Maria left so I’ll tell people this was a work accident. But… y-you can’t just cut people like”-

Arch stopped, then moved their gaze from watching Lyrem’s smirking grin to a darker corner. There was movement over there.

“Wait...” Arch’s face twisted into mess of confusion. “Wait, what’s… what’s happening to me? What did you do?”

They were lost in a recollection of events; events from a week ago. Lyrem kindly allowed them the time…

“Do you need help with any of that?”

“Oh! No- no, I’ll be alright. These are just… going into the back room for now… You should keep an eye on the store, don’t want anyone walking in to take our merchandise,”

The back door to Mystics clicked shut.

“It’s alright, you’re gone now.” Lyrem ushered Arch from around the corner. They were still nursing the side of their face where Marcus had hit them… Well, he hadn’t yet. Not really.

Arch would help Lyrem carry each of the large boxes into the back room. The beings inside were unconscious, lost in their own created darkness.

“Close your eyes and hold your breath, Arch.”

With a little further convincing, Lyrem and Arch stepped through with each of the boxes without triggering the Labyrinth to appear.

When they were inside, Lyrem had Arch help with piling the boxes into the darkest corner of the room near a plain wall.

Panting from the work, Lyrem smiled at Arch delightfully as he leaned against the boxes with his elbow.

“What… What do we do with them now?” They asked.

Lyrem sniffed and looked the boxes up and down, and then wiped some stray beads of sweat from his forehead.

“I’ll set up the wall, drill some holes for their chains and then you’ll be able to do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

Lyrem nodded.

“How long will it take to set up the wall?”

“Bit eager, aren’t you?”

Arch shifted awkwardly at the comment, but Lyrem laughed it off.

“Give me a day,” he answered. “Can you give me a day?”

Arch rolled their eyes. “Yeah, I can give you a day.”

Lyrem smiled. “Wonderful.”

Arch returned to the present with a shudder.

“You returned my memories,” they commented. “And it’s been longer than a day, it’s been a week at least! What took you so long?”

“I had a delivery,” Lyrem said simply, lifting himself off the table; pleased with their reaction to the memories they regained. If there was any more of a defense he wished to provide, he omitted it. He gathered a roll of thin white gauze from a cabinet against the wall and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, setting it in front of Arch at the table

“Oh,” Arch realized apologetically. “Did it work out?”

Lyrem poured the alcohol onto their hand. Arch winced in silent agony and then they began to wrap their own hand carefully as Lyrem answered their question.

“Unfortunately, not. I quite despised having to use an infernal spell on fakes. It wasted so much time- and energy.” Lyrem began, “The deliverer was none the wiser either. I venture to guess that their client was unaware of the fact they were given a fake as well. But in my line of work, I am the one who takes the blame if an object is not vetted perfectly. A single flaw could incur a wrath I would not want to live to see.”

Arch nodded, assuming to understand. They tied off their hand and followed their boss across the backroom.

Arch gulped as they approached the wall, and stopped, before getting too close. The alarm bells rang loud and clear in their mind even as they saw the boys’ legs against the ground and their torsos set against the concrete; their arms supported by the chains that held them there. Their heads were covered in black cloth bags. They weren’t moving. They could be asleep. Or dead. Arch wouldn’t know the difference from where they stood. Lyrem continued on for several steps before realizing that they had stopped in place. He noted the look on Arch’s face. One of fear. One of hesitation. Lyrem stepped beside them and planted a strong hand on their shoulder.

With a crooked finger, he lifted Arch’s chin. Successfully, he broke their gaze from the bodies on the floor to stare into his hazel eyes instead. He could feel them trembling and a pitiful expression threatened to ruin the gentle moment between them. He replaced it with a stern calmness.

“They cannot hurt you any longer,” he said. “You are in control now.”

Arch wondered for a fleeting moment if they truly were in control. Perhaps Lyrem was intent on getting off on their transition to the dark side, or perhaps he was trying simply to be supportive. Either way, Arch forgot that internal debate the moment Lyrem handed them the jeweled blade. They grasped it tightly, just to say hello.

Week Two.

“Bring it up carefully, now.”

“He’s crying, Lyrem.”

“It’s just water on his face. That’s all.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. Now, bring it back... and angle the blade more flatly against his arm... Lovely.”

Arch gulped, and did as they were told, trying to ignore the whimpering screams that were emitting from Kyle through their cloth gag as they cut into his forearm. Lyrem had strapped it down to a table and chained the rest of the boy to a chair bolted into the floor. His blood was pooling. Arch had rolled up their sleeves to keep the blood off of their clothes. They would have to remember to bring an apron for the next time and other sessions.

Arch paused and lifted the blade away; scratching the side of their face, as a bit of acne there had been bugging them for the last couple days. Adults said it would start to go away at some point as they grew older. Arch stopped believing that over a year ago; convinced it would never really go away.

“Arch? More flat, please.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Good,” Lyrem praised. “Now, you’ll need two hands. One to hold the skin, and the other to push the blade through.”

Arch broke their eye contact from Kyle’s arm to look at how he, their victim, had been reacting to the practice flaying. That was a mistake. They couldn’t tear their eyes from the sight. The pleading blue eyes, the fear in them... Arch gulped again. All that guilt threatened to rise up, wanting to revolt against the torturous act that their own body was performing.

“Breathe.” Lyrem reminded them.

“I can’t… I can’t…” Arch placed the blade back down on the table. They blinked, and took the opportunity to pull their eyes away from their victim.

“Would it be easier if I covered his face for you? I’m sure I have a sheet or something around here somewhere”-

Lyrem stood from his seat and toured his own expansive back room, searching the shelves for anything that could be quickly draped over Kyle’s head. Arch stood as well, backing themselves away from the table, they shook their head.

“I don’t think I want to continue this tonight,” They admitted.

“Oh, please don’t quit now, Arch. You went twice as far with him last week,” Lyrem reminded them as he still searched. “I don’t want you to leave here without doing a little more than you did before.”

“It was easier then. I was still mad that they hit me. That they stole from you.” Arch explained. They looked to the wall, and noticed the absence of one of their dreaded classmates. “By the way, where did Jess go? She was there that night too.”

Lyrem approached them with something dark and folded neatly in his hand.

“Ah, yes. The fabled Jess unfortunately had to be sacrificed for the greater good. My unique hospitality was a short-lived experience for her,” he smiled slightly as the realization of a pun crossed his mind. “You asked that question last time you were here as well, you know.”

“Everything’s still sort of jumbled in my head,” Arch clarified. “I think, when you lifted the spell, it revealed feelings more than specific memories…”

Lyrem lifted a brow, and settled himself against the end of the table. “That is an interesting review of the experience. Eventually, my memory spells will lose their effect on you. You’ll begin to remember this place, everything you’ve done without the spell needing to be lifted each time.”

“How long until then?”

“It will happen when you are ready. I can’t be sure, honestly.” Lyrem admitted. “Until then, you can maintain your daytime innocence. I am sure it’s better that way.”

Arch looked down at their own hand where a deep red mark was scored into them. Lyrem would scar it over for them before they left again- a minor healing that would also remove the memories of what was happening in the backroom- but only temporarily.

“I would have liked to say goodbye to her,” Arch said absently as they toyed with the edge of the blade against their thumb. They lifted their gaze, catching their employer’s eye. Lyrem looked interested enough for them to explain their offhanded comment. He prompted them to continue with a caring nod.

“We were close growing up. Used to be neighbours, actually. Then she moved. She changed in Junior High and started picking on me when everyone else would. While I was still a tomboy, she became “Barbie girl” and then in High School she met this asshole. But… the rest is just history, right?”

“’The past is spent and done with, and the future is uncertain’,” Lyrem quoted. “’Every man’s life lies within the present.’”

Arch approached the table once more and sat in their chair to resume their work.

“Sometimes,” Arch began slowly flaying the skin away, as Kyle’s screams threatened to drown out their words. “you say things as though they are wise things… But, really, you’re just basic.”

Lyrem placed the folded cloth neatly on the table without another word. Arch clearly didn’t need it quite as much as he assumed they did. He sat across from them, watching intently as another one of Kyle’s layers of skin peeled neatly away from the prison of his body, and wondered how much longer Arch would continue to do as they were asked.

#torture #whump #whumpblr #writeblr #writing #Alpaca writes #whump blog #Mystics by Alpaca #creative writing #mystics #whump writing #writing blog #whump stuff #tw torture #tw claustrophobic #Lyrem #Arch #tw bullying #noncon touching

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malethirsty · 4 years

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Shifting Relationships: Sam Merlotte

Summary: It’s a rough love story, man meets boss, man falls into seemingly one sided relationship with boss, but what if all it took to bring out another side was a simple day like National Horny Day.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

Inspired by: https://twitter.com/malethirst/status/1205305932273446913?s=21 & The concept of National Horny Day

This service day would be chaotic to say the least, to say it would be naturally busy is a gross understatement. At Merlotte’s Bar and Grill in Bon Temps, Louisiana, when prompted for marketing ideas you had suggested the idea of capitalising on major days in pop culture & society in order to net more customers, and your boss Sam Merlotte had been rather impressed by this. It worked positively as more people did come in, willing to part with their cash for some good old Southern hospitality and cooking, unfortunately it meant you had to cover those pop culture days that seemed utterly ridiculous, so when something like National Horny Day popped up, you wanted the floor to swallow you whole. The people of Bon Temps were normal sorts of folk, but any chance anyone got drunk or rowdy, then the entire mood changed & you were worried a spill out onto the streets would result in bad press and you waiter position being taken away, and Hell Hath No Fury Like You if someone in Bon Temps took away your position in the bar.

“Can we get an area of the premises where people can fuck?” You asked Sam, a few weeks out from the day in question. As you predicted, Sam spluttered at your suggestion “W-What? No Y/N, we are running a restaurant, not a brothel!” He responded with a shocked tone, and you quickly doubled back to explain yourself “I mean people here in Bon Temps can get overly passionate once drunk and filled with enough horniness, I thought it would be better to contain it, rather than let our town be a national circus act.” You were blushing, it was quite awkward to tell all of this to your boss. Sam turned to you, a grin starting to form “You know what Y/N, that actually sounds like a good idea, the area can be free so we don't profit off it, and people can maintain whatever composure they have without creating a mass blow out.” “Really?” You wondered and Sam nodded his head “How are we going to work it then, cause buildings take a long time to put up, and it would have to be big so that it isn't one coupling per sesh, cause that would cause more harm than good and-” you hadn’t realised you’d been blabbering without breath before Sam took ahold of your hands and looked into your eyes, a reassuring shade of blue gazing into your frantic soul “Calm down Y/N, you get so worried about things sometimes, take a breath.” He breathed in slowly through his nose and out of his mouth, you repeated his action till you calmed down “Y/N, I will handle it, you don't have to worry your pretty head about any of it”

You blushed subtly, at least what you hoped was subtle. You had a crush on your boss for quite a long time, in fact it had happened once you caught sight of him when you went to drop your resume off at Merlotte’s, when you first glanced at him, you thought as if a denim wrapped angel had fallen from the sky and into your life, he wasn’t built like society’s muscular gruff man, but you didn’t care, you’d gladly take this denim wrapped stud over anyone else. You had a big smile on your face when Sam called you back for an interview, and kept up a positive attitude in his office, so much so it led to your position. You always had a spring in your step to do whatever he asked, your heart fluttering when he turned the corner and observed the bars goings on (You made extra sure that service was top tier when you were the one out on the floor). It had been that way for a long time, but you’d kept it all to yourself due to your nerves. Thankfully Sam did not pick up on it, and smiled at you "Now, you get the outside cinema ready for the adults, and I'll take care of matters inside", and with orders now given, you sprang into action before anything else could occur.

Sam was right, people had kept themselves composed at Breakfast where the bar was only open to those experiencing the morning after, you had served Jason Stackhouse and a number of women at one booth with a smile. Lunchtime was when adults gathered in the Outdoor Cinema you set up, where a mattinee of Last Tango In Paris was being shown. The intigue the audience had toward the movie was prominent, as you bustled around waiting the customers on the side tables nexts to their seats. With a massive lot of plates covering your arms, making you look like you were attempting a balancing act rather than waiting a table, Sam stepped up to help “Looks like you might need a hand.” He grinned at you “Yeah I do Mr. Merlotte, thanks!” Sam’s hand brushed against yours as he took a plate and you drew a sudden deep breath, Sam stopped for a moment, looking at you, obviously hearing the deep breath, but seemed to decide nothing of it as he collected and escorted the plates out to the team that had also moved outside to cook. You rushed into the restaurant, blissfully empty and made your way to the bathroom where you rested against the door, taking in the moment, almost like how Marilyn Monroe would marvel at a diamond ring.

Eventually you pulled yourself from your thoughts of Sam and noticed you were hard in your work pants "Oh damn it!" You groaned. It was hard enough to work alongside Sam, but even worse when you were hard. Knowing this wouldn't go away, you moved towards the toilet, and pulled down your pants. Gripping ahold of your cock, you began to stroke it to thoughts of Sam finally combatting the sexual tension between you at closing and fucking you on the Pool Table, focusing on his beautiful body, how soft his lips were, how hard his nipples could get, how big his cock was, how it would stretch out your walls, how rough his pace was, the delicious Southern voice whispering a manner of dirty things into your ear. You had gotten closer and closer to the edge as time passed, moans and cries of Sam's name from your mouth growing louder and louder until you finally cried out as you shot your load into the toilet. You gathered paper up and tossed it down, and full flushed, determined to get rid of your moment of pleasure, not that others would mind someone walking in the bathroom on National Horny Day, but it was your boss you'd pleasured yourself over and you weren't in the mood for being sentimental. Your process was interrupted by a knock at the door, shit. Not noticing you must have spent a long time to the point you had accidentally caused a cue, you rushed washing your hands "I'll be out in a moment" you shouted back as you rushed the drying of your hands and opened the door. However no one stood in the doorframe, “Hello?” you questioned, a woof breaking the silence. You looked down to see a dog sitting on the floor, you breathed a sigh of relief, maybe the person at the door gave up and walked away, and besides, the dog couldn't have knocked, they don't have hands. “Hey! How did you get inside?” you asked stooping down, the dog turned it’s head towards the back door, as if that somehow explained it, so you crossed over to see if a door had been left open, however no doors were unlocked, and you needed a key to get back inside, you & the other Merlotte's staff had been briefed on National Horny Day protocol by Sam to not let patrons inside the restaurant for Lunch. “Well no one’s outside, let me see where my boss is, maybe you have a tag or something and I can work out where you belong.” The dog shook it’s head as if it understood you but that seemed ridiculous, animals couldn’t understand big complex sentences like that. You were about to turn to Sam’s office when the dog gave a wail “Oh, you don’t like being alone" You stretched out your hands "Come on, let me take you to Mr. Merlotte’s office, I think you’ll like him.” You made to pick up the dog, when something happened, the dog somehow morphed into none other than the naked form of your Boss! You froze in place, literally stunned.

“Y/N, don't freak out alright, let me explain.” you heard Sam say, shock overtaking you “What? How? What?” You went on, however Sam crossed to you & placed his index finger on your lips, you immediately fell silent “I'm a shifter, I have the ability to turn into any living animal on Earth as long as I’ve imprinted on it first, which I do by locking sight with it, I keep a picture of the dog you saw up in my office for easy access.” You had seen the picture before but thought it was a dog that had no value or had passed, so you never bothered him about it. Sam drew a long breath, you could see that this had been a massive weight to come off his shoulders “Y/N, please say something.” “You turned into a dog while I was working, and then shifted back in front of me, naked I might add, I need a moment.” You held onto the wall to steady yourself “Do you want water or?” Sam asked “No I need to control my breathing like earlier.” You responded back, slowly but surely steadying yourself, stopping a massive outburst of anger or confusion, you didn’t know what. After a while, you had gathered yourself, looking up you saw Sam looking both worried and sad all at once “I’m alright Sam” you said, which seemed to relax him “So you’re a shapeshifter, like a vampire but also not at the same time.” “Supes are what people like us are, short for supernaturals.” He explained “So who else knows about this?” “Very few people, please keep it that way.” You nodded, you’d worked out his motivation becoming clear for keeping you back, but you still had questions “How come I’m only finding out about this now?” "I guess I needed to get the right amount of courage to say what I needed to say, kind of like how were keeping in your desire for me." Sam responded. How could he have known that? He wasn't there! All you had heard was a knock at the door and shifted Sam outside of it and dogs didn't have hands, 'But Sam as a human before he turned does' you realised in the back of your head, your mouth going dry.

You stood frozen in place, actually stuck, not knowing what to do, what to say, or how to respond to knowing that Sam had heard you pleasuring yourself to thoughts of him. Sam made his way over to you “‘I know you want me Y/N, so let’s see what else that talkative mouth is good for.” And Sam shoved you against the wall and kissed you, deeply. It was as if a dream had suddenly burst into life right in front of you, like fairy dust had rained down, like the sun shined bright and the stars came out to shine for this alone, you closed your eyes taking in the moment, Sam’s lips against yours, tongue slipping between your lips and teeth and into your mouth, tangling with yours. Sam soon pulled away, leaving you flushed “I've known since the first day, I could smell your lust on you. I was flattered, but once that faded, I knew I loved you as well, and now we're gonna make up for lost time. On your knees” You barely recognised the rough impact your knees had with the wooden floor as you took Sam’s cock into your mouth, sucking deep. “Oh yeah, I’ve been dreaming bout this, how good your mouth would be round my cock, keep going Y/N, fuck!” You ran your tongue over the head of Sam’s cock, tasting the precum building up there, making Sam’s legs begin to buckle “Fuck get up Y/N, pool table now.” He grabbed your hand and rushed over to the other side of the bar, ridding you of your garments along the way, you noticing the beds structured around the bar "Sam, did you set up the horny den here, in the middle of the bar?" You questioned and he shrugged "You were right, it takes long to build outhouses, and we can regulate this evening's speed dating sessions to outside, but fuck all that Y/N, I’m so horny, I need you, your mouth your ass, all of you, Fuck!” Now finally both naked, you got up onto the pool table, Sam moving on top of you. “I want you Y/N. I want to be deep inside you.” "Then take me Mr. Merlotte" you breathed out "Call me Sam baby" he smirked down at you before pushing his cock forwards, burying it in your ass. You cried out, the sting apparent, Sam detecting it, soothed you with wet kisses to your face, and down your neck “Relax Y/N.” Sam said soothingly, and you listened and tried to get used to the sensation of Sam thrusting forwards, as he found a rhythm to fuck you to. “So hot” he groaned as your walls clamped down around his dick “God you're fucking tight Y/N, Goddamn!” He praised. "Fuck Sam, keep going! Fuck me with all you got Shifter" you grinned at him, and smirking back Sam fucked harder, causing you to arch into him "That's right, back your ass onto my cock & arch your back for me. Fuck yes!" You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking you in place as your boss continued to fuck you with everything he had, balls slapping against your ass. "Fuck, this is so damn hot Y/N, don't you love this? Your boss, filling you up with his cock while everyone's outside, you finally getting the man you deserve, I'm gonna have to watch myself round you now, I'll get a glimpse of your ass, mine now, and I'll think back to tonight, and then I'll be in the bathroom stroking myself to you, may even let you get me off. "Suddenly he flipped you over and began to trail his head over your chest, smelling you and rolling around “I’ve got to give you my scent, you already smell great, best scent I’ve ever smelt, but I need to get mine in there.” He explained, worried you would be freaked, he was surprised when completely unpeterbed you leant up to his face and licked the sweat off, trailing down to his chest to do the same, taking time to get a grip on his chest hair. “You don’t need to worry about me not getting you Sam, I’ve already gotten you, consider that me returning the favour.” With a softly growled “Fuck!” Sam kissed you, whilst resuming his new rough pace, the air filling with growls and grunts from the shifter, and pretty moans and groans from your mouth “Fuck I love you Y/N, I fucking love this.” You were a horny mess before your boss, needing, craving more of him, so you begged “Fuck Sam, more!” Sam obliged you, as he began to grunt louder, the sound sounding so amazing to you, he was committing these pleasurable noises because of you “Fucking insatiable, I fucking love it! By the end of this week, our scent will be filling my trailer, my office, hell even the woods where I run.” You threw your head back, letting any single lustful sound fall from you as Sam continued. The end was approaching for you, much to your displeasure which Sam was able to read from your scent “Don’t worry bout it, after service is done for tonight, I’ll take you to my trailer, gonna shower you up so you're all pretty for me, then get you in my bed and we’ll fuck the rest of the night away, alright?” Sam looked down at you, panting heavily, glistening with sweat. You couldn’t find words, so you nodded instead. Sam continued to fuck into you now stroking your cock on top of everything else and within moments you cried out a string of lustful praises to Sam as you shot your load all over the both of you. “Fuck, that’s real nice Y/N. You’re gonna make me cum. You gonna take all of my load?” he asked you breathlessly, needing your approval. Getting enough breath into your lungs you simply got out “Yes!” Sam fucked rougher, with your walls clenching down, milking him of everything he had “I’m going to give you a raise Y/N, you’re gonna make me cum, FUCK!” Sam exploded out in a moan as he shot his load deep, his arms that had been holding him up gave way, causing him to collapse onto you. Panting he gave you a string of kisses, some hickeys down your neck “Mmm. Y/N, was it worth the wait.” “Fuck yes.” You moaned causing him to laugh “Yeah it fucking was, for me as well. God I’m gonna fucking love the time we’re gonna have, gonna get you all showered, fuck a few more times, maybe I’ll cancel tomorrow, so no one can disturb us, make your ride me naked in my office, while I moan out all kinds of dirty things while you take my cock like a slut.” “Yeah, I’d like that.” “Then you got it cheré.” He picked you up off the pool table and tossed you your clothes, placing his Merlotte's shirt back on “Happy Horny Day Y/N.” He said happily sated, looking over at you with a grin “Happy Horny Day Sam.” You returned with equal charm.

#Sam Merlotte #Male Reader #Sam Merlotte x Male Reader #Sam Merlotte Smut #x male reader #fanfic #smut #x male!reader #Reader Insert #Scent Kink #Sweat Kink

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