#how did they get a fucking mirror maze how did nobody notice

[muppetcube]

Truly the best part of Beat The Buzzer was Rekha and Erika ending up in fairly normal locations, and then it cuts to Becca:

#this Was Becca's Game #i loved the whole cast . amazing episode . once again have a crush on all three contestants . it was designed just so Becca Scott #could get into shit without getting in trouble #how did they get a fucking mirror maze how did nobody notice #truly Becca was in a separate location . #game changer #game changer spoilers #dropout #dropout tv #becca scott #rehka shankar #erika ishii

[themanip]

alternate routes

SYNOPSIS — how do you go throughout life? well, you find someone you like. get to know them. start dating. break up a few times, get back together. get married. have some kids. die old. typical. fucking in a back room of an awards show, not once, but twice as complete strangers, was definitely not how most relationships start out.

PAIRING — taehyung x metzi (oc) WARNINGS — descriptions of cheating, fliphones, mentions of getting laid, really bad intros tbh, the introvert line being introverts, and girls who are rlly bad at timing, an asshole named ryan, cursing WORD COUNT — just over 3.1k AUTHOR’S NOTE — hi! i am so fucking bad at writing the first chapter or two, i promise if you can bear the beginning of this story, it gets better. i have two and a half chapters written so far but i am writing super often! once a few more chapters get published i will create a masterlist. please enjoy and if you have any comments or recs don’t hesitate to let me know!! :)))

𝟏: 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐄 

𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟖 ⇥ The universe known to man is a labyrinth—an irregular maze, a passage that cannot be routed—and to understand that took more than an average mind. The matter was far too complicated than any obsolete man to comprehend on a whim. Millenia passed before galaxies were formed, planets were created, all unbeknownst to the stars bursting just miles apart.

From early amphibians, to the ice age, to cavemen, evolution has made great strides in every species. Humans in the past were variants called homosapiens, and most likely came from chimpanzees. Great strides like this were something to be proud of, you'd think.

When Metzi Ludovic realized that birds can fly with natural evolution, while humans had to industrialize it (thanks to the Wright brothers) she was pretty distraught. As an imaginative and critical eight-year old, fifteen years later, not much had changed. Currently, she was pondering over the fact that humans are one of the few species with opposable thumbs.

Majority of animals had not yet evolutionized to create opposable thumbs. While frantic over this, she also imagined her beautiful Pomeranian, with thumbs popping out of his paws. Her thoughts were quickly subdued, thanks to her coherent thoughts making an appearance. As cool as it would be, all other animals would devour humans if they gained that ability.

Is that the only reason humans are all mighty? They can industrialize and aim properly due to their adaptations, so that they somehow became top of the food chain?

Thankfully, she was redacted from her thoughts as her manager, Emmy, let out a distressed sigh. "Wren, we cannot change your outfit again. You look beautiful," At this point, looking at Wren, she knew that she would look good. Somehow, she couldn't convince herself.

"Wren, we can switch. I don't hate green, so you can take blue if you want it. I really don't mind," Metzi smiled softly, and she knew it was the right thing to offer as Wren's face lit up, a few tears being wiped away. "Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just do me a favor and loosen the ties on that, please. I have had way too many tacos yesterday to fit into it with the strings that tight," a small laugh left her mouth, and as she laid on the comfortable sofa. It was plush, but somehow offered no lumbar support. Who the hell makes a couch so soft, yet so unbearable for convenience of naps?

Selfish, she thought.

This dressing room was beautiful, so you'd think they'd have enough funds to make a decent couch. She could enjoy the aesthetics of the room, anyways. A luxurious baby pink covered the walls, and was bordered by pristine white. Plush gray carpet was under her feet, and was stain free. With Malorie in here, that probably wouldn't last long.

She was over by the double mirrors, applying powder over her face. She was so beautiful, Metzi couldn't fathom why she insisted on so much makeup. The same could be said about herself, so she kept her somewhat inner misogynistic comments at bay. She was pretty quiet, but something was off. She wasn't usually this quiet, so Metzi shot her a text.

She was very personal, and barely talked about what bothered her. Occasionally, Metzi would get her to open up, which she could physically see the relief on her face as she broke down. A brief, but to the point was written out on Metzi's phone.

you don't seem okay. wanna talk about it? Read 2:33 PM

The three dots popped up, and Metzi's attention was quickly brought to Vida, who sat down next to her, letting out a sigh. "How much longer until Olive gets here? I'm so close to taking a nap," Vida quickly put her hair into a makeshift ponytail, and leaned back, closing her eyes.

"It's only two, so I imagine not for a good hour or so, a nap sounds kind of nice," Wren commented, stood in the other corner of the room, with Emmy helped her undo the straps of her outfit. Her green silk top complimented her skin perfectly, but Metzi knew it was too late to convince her.

"Well, I'm out, wake me up when she gets here," Vida quickly blurts, and her head is now comfortably laying on the arm of the sofa. "I'll get up, I have to go to the bathroom anyways," Metzi commented, sighing before getting up.

Silence followed, and the blonde decided to take a look at her phone. A text was sent back on Malorie's behalf, and she widened her eyes momentarily. Standing still, she turned back to look at her. A face of guilt was evident, and she tried her best to hold her breath.

i have something to tell you, i'm not supposed to. i just feel so bad knowing while you don't i really shouldn't have said anything forget it

meet me in the bathroom

Read 2:37PM

Metzi's mind was in a whirlwind, and she couldn't think of anything she'd be referring to. Of course, it was useless, because clearly she wasn't meant to know about it. She hurried out of the room, the last thing she heard was Wren complaining once more about her outfit.

The hallways were empty, mostly because they'd came so early, and Metzi took her time reaching the bathroom. It was communal, so she really hoped that nobody else was here yet. The awards were meant to start in a few hours, and considering they had three faces to paint with makeup, early was a necessity.

"I hope you won't be mad at me," A small, timid voice aired behind her. The blonde turned around, and clutched her phone in fear. "I'm not, please tell me what's going on,"

As Malorie opened her phone, Metzi tapped her foot anxiously.

God, she really had to piss.

The brunette looked up at her, and showed her a photo.

"What is that?"

"That, was Ryan. On Saturday."

Ryan was her boyfriend of six years. An anxious cramping formed in her stomach at the mixture of his name and the tone of Malorie's voice. The photo she was now staring at made her want to vomit. Her stomach was now doing somersaults.

In the photo, it was indeed Ryan, in Metzi's own bed, with a mop of curly red hair under him. Most was covered by the sheets, but it was enough to come to the correct conclusion. He was clearly enjoying it too, judging by his face. Upon further inspection, she noticed something odd.

Grabbing the phone out of Malorie's hand, she zoomed in. On her nightstand, where a picture of the two usually sat, was now face down. While he fucked another woman in her bed, he turned her face down.

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she took a deep breath in.

What happened Saturday? She was home mostly all day, so when did he have time to do this?

"What—how did you get this?"

"I came to give you your present, and I heard something. Y'know since you gave me keys? I figured it was okay to come in, and your bedroom door was open. I knew Ryan would try to make me the liar, so I took a picture. He told me that if I told you," Malorie pursed her lips, "well he threatened to do something pretty fucked up."

"Holy fuck," Metzi whispered, "I just—I had no fucking clue. This entire time, and who knows how long he's been fucking her?"

One lonesome tear fell down her cheek. In anger or sadness, Malorie didn't know.

Opening her phone, she opened Ryan's contact. "Hey," Malorie whispered, her voice now soft. "If he tells you anything about me, promise you won't believe him?"

"Of course, you come first. Always."

She debated on whether or not to call him, but instead opted on a text.

I hope you enjoyed fucking merida, we're done. get your things out of my house by tomorrow. delete my number.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, and a smile adorned her face. Her bladder problems now the least of her concerns, she started back for the dressing room. Emmy now sat at the vanity, on her phone, and Vida and Wren were basically cuddling.

Surprised at the sudden intrustion, all eyes landed on the pair standing in the doorway.

"Ryan cheated on me, so now we're all single." Metzi gave nobody the chance to respond, as if anyone could think of what to say, and took a deep breath in.

"I haven't been fucked in months, and now I know why. So, I'm gonna get laid tonight, feel free to join me."

All seven of them had their faces beat to perfection, their outfits tailored and steamed of any wrinkles. They looked absolutely impeccable, as if the world around them kissed their feet. Hell, some reporters actually acted like that.

The members of BTS were now known worldwide, and it seemed that they were sought after by nearly everyone. Each member was so unique—so captivating in every aspect. Personalities somehow intertwine perfectly, yet polar opposites sometimes.

Proud but humble men, they basked in the warmth of positive attention. All eyes were on them for now, and they proudly understood it. As they walked on the red carpet of the music event, Yoongi and Jungkook both hated what they would be forced to do in mere minutes. As self-declared introverts, social interactions were about to start, and they honestly would rather sit in the corner and get this over with.

They would meet a few smaller artists, an occasional household name, (which they would fawn over for the rest of the night) and then be on their way. It would probably be in a few news articles, and some artists would insist on pictures, and they would be spread around within minutes. It was the same routine, and almost every time they would speak as little as possible, save for Namjoon, and would discuss it later. Hollywood was English dominated, and they despised it.

"Right now we only have to meet one group, and then we're okay for a few hours," Namjoon spoke quietly and quickly, and they piled off of the red carpet into a building. The hallways were scary, dark and empty, but a light above them quickly lit up.

To their surprise, the hallway was beautiful. The walls were an navy blue, white accents on top and bottom. Numerous gold paintings and records lined the walls, and it seemed to go on forever.

"Who is it we're supposed to be meeting? This hallway is a bit sketchy," Jimin perked up, and Namjoon chuckled. "WB,"

"Who is that?"

"I can't remember what their name stands for, but they sing that one song," Namjoon goes on to hum the tune to a familiar song that got pretty big, and all of the members start singing along. Of course, the lyrics are completely off and the tune is absolutely horrid, but they all recognize it vaguely.  

All numbly following Namjoon, he was taking rough instructions from their manager to get there. This was not how it usually happened, but he had said something urgent came up. He had told Namjoon how to get there, and he knew that they were smart enough to make it without breaking a couple ligaments.

"Group? I thought it was one singer," Jin commented, and Taehyung nodded in agreement. "I would have never thought it was more than one. Are they American?"

"I guess we're going to find out," he snickered, and they all stopped at the corner. The door was slightly creaked open, and soft laughter could be heard. It was feminine, soft. It sounded like pure happiness was inside that door.

To double check, Namjoon eyed the sign on the door.

A large, black WB was written so even the partially blind could read. It was odd, the only dressing room out of probably at least a hundred, was all the way back, alone. They had no time to question it before Jin took a few strides forward, and boasted his English abilites.

"Come on-uh, guys."

The rest of them burst into laughter, and Namjoon quickly followed suit, knowing Jin would not be the prime candidate for introductions. He would simply utter a few English words, turn to Namjoon for help, and in panic, make a really bad play on words in Korean.

Timidly, Namjoon's knuckles rapped on the already-open door, accidentally pushing it further open a bit. "Come in!"

They were met with three girls stuffing their faces with chocolate cake, and another laying on the floor, fiddling with a.. flip-phone?

Jin grimaced at the reminder, glad it wasn't pink.

All eyes awkwardly met at the realization, and two of the three muffling down cake choked a bit. "Emmy, I thought you said 5:30?" Malorie was the one to ask, but none of the boys knew that.

"It is 5:30,"

The cake was swallowed within seconds, the flip-phone was now laying on the table, untouched. Four girls scrambled up simultaneously, and watched as the rest of the men piled in. An awkward stout of silence followed, and this so called Emmy, rose and met the boys first.

She had a firm grip, and introduced herself as their manager. The situation was humorous to say the least, these girls who could pass off as teenagers, were standing in single file in shame. The first was a beautiful girl with a large afro, and she kept a tight smile. She did not know who they were, nor did she really care. She introduced herself as Wren.

Next, was a taller woman, who seemed a hint older, with large winged eyeliner. She was Vida. Jin's first instinct was that she reminded him of him, she was definitely the oldest. Then, a smaller girl with a thick smile and soft curls was next. Soft hands, gentle grip. Her name was Malorie.

The last, was a young woman with blonde hair. Realistically, she didn't have any defining features besides her hair, she was the average American-looking girl. She introduced herself as Metzi, and to their surprise, bowed.

"It's really nice to meet you guys," Emmy let out a soft chuckle, and Namjoon nodded tightly. "Are you performing tonight?" It was Malorie who had asked, a soft question. "Yes, actually,"

"I heard you are as well," Namjoon replied, hoping to end the small talk quickly. "Yes we are! I'm surprised you've heard of us, I mean we're not huge."

She wasn't lying, but they definitely weren't small, either. Sixth biggest girlgroup of all time by album sales just behind TLC. Thirtieth on the most followed Spotify artist. Their debut album was certified Gold in six countries. Humble was the key to success, though.

"I'm not sure how big they are in the States, but aren't they pretty well known in Korea?" Yoongi spoke, but of course he wasn't talking to the girls, he was talking to his bandmates. He also spoke in Korean, which is why he nearly had a heart attack when a very feminine voice responded in Korean as well.

"We're big in Korea? I knew we were pretty well known in Japan, but I never really knew about that," It was the blonde one, Metzi. All seven members were in shock, the way she spoke it so effortlessly. If she didn't look the way she did, she could pass off as Native Korean by language alone.

"I know South Korea is very conservative and insistent upon how they operate things, and we're probably the farthest thing from it. I just was under the impression that we didn't fit the mold to do well there," Metzi continued talking, and Wren, Vida and Malorie had absolutely no clue what was going on or being discussed.

Had this been in Spanish, all the girls could have participated. Metzi just insisted on learning Korean, though.

They didn't seem too bothered, though, instead more humored.

"She's been waiting to use that one, huh?" Vida whispered, laughing lightly. "You're not wrong, Korea is known to be very conservative, however, that doesn't mean you have to fit stereotypes to break Korea or any other Asian country for that matter," Namjoon spoke in English this time, and finally the other three girls got a whiff of the conversation.

"We are the farthest thing from ideal boy-groups in America, and we broke it for the most part. Obviously a lot of it is due to our fan base, but point still stands." Seokjin broke in, the conversation now half Korean, half English.

"Good to know," Metzi said softly, a grin on her face.

"How did you learn Korean?" Taehyung spoke up in curiousity, and crinkled his eyes. "I started learning a few years ago before we kind of blew up, and when we visited Korea a few times, I just picked it up a bit. Still a lot I don't know, but I can speak pretty fluently now."

Taehyung nodded in understanding, silently applauding her ability to simply pick up on a language. He doesn't think he will ever gain fluency in English, no matter how hard he'd try. It was a lot harder than he imagined it to be.

"I'm gonna be honest, from media portrayals you guys are made out to be asshats, but you seem pretty down to Earth. Nice to know the fame doesn't get to your head, you know?"

Now it was Wren speaking, and a few snickers sounded from Jungkook and Jimin's mouth. "Asshat," Jimin repeated softly, and they broke into more laughter.

"We appreciate that, thank you. Ignore them," Hoseok spoke this time, a large smile adorning his face. "We will watch your performance tonight, and cheer you on."

"Ditto," Metzi responded in English this time, and Hobi's eyes crinkled in confusion. "Same to you," she clarified in Korean, and he nodded.

They said their goodbyes, and Metzi told all the girls to bow. Namjoon and Vida had a brief talk, and it was no time before BTS and WB were now separate, discussing the events that had just taken place.

The talk of the night was the mysterious blonde girl who spoke fluent Korean. 

taglist: @princessoftheroad​ <3

#kth #kim taehyung #taehyung fic #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #taehyung x oc #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fic #bts x oc #perrie edwards #little mix #min yoongi #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #park jimin

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »14

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 6.8k ▎ ch.warnings: cursing, mentions of tae’s father being abusive, crying/mild angst, smut, Top!JJK, Bottom!KTH (these boys switch it up a lot hah), rimjob, fingering, anal, some fluff dw and they’re still dumb for and to each other but hey what’s new.

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang​​​ ♡♡♡

The door immediately flung open, and Jisoo had to remind herself to stop answering when she looked like.. Shit.

“Jung— oh my goodness.. you’re soaked!” She stated the obvious, ushering the boy into her home without exchanging another word.

“Jungkook-ah.. what happened?!”

The woman jogged into her bathroom, coming back with an extra towel at hand.

As if it was never there in the first place, the tiredness didn’t linger any longer. Instead, Jisoo was wide awake as she focused on drying Kook to the best of her abilities, wondering if this was Taehyung’s doing.

Jungkook silently allowed Jisoo to guide him inside, running his fingers through is wet hair as he watched her pat him dry,

Technically he could have just gone home to change first, but the cold clothes were nothing compared to the swirling thoughts occupying his senses, eyes still stinging from both the rain and previous tears.

''Noona, you don't have to...'' His hoarse voice from yelling tried to say, his hand reaching for the towel, ''I can do it.''

Jisoo thought about ignoring his pleas at first, but she ended up granting the towel to Jungkook, not aiming to overstep past any invisible line.

She couldn’t help it.. Kook meant a lot to her.

The woman dragged a chair next to his, resting her drumming hands on her lap.

Jisoo caught a glimpse of the boy’s face, spotting the obvious hurt in his puffy, reddened eyes.

That’s it, she couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“Jungkookie.. do— do you want anything to drink or eat? I can whip something up quick!” The woman hadn’t even noticed she’d been rambling.

“I’m just.. I’m worried. Where’s Taehyung?”

Somehow, she knew the latter had something to do with this. Hence why her voice weakened at the brief mention of his name.

“Hey.. you can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?”

Jisoo scooted closer to the younger boy, the pads of her thumbs wiping at the wetness underneath his doe eyes.

"I'm not hungry," Jungkook whispered. He had already eaten, and even if it was a while ago-- he had no appetite left.

Jisoos question about Taehyung's whereabouts wasn't surprising, of course she'd ask. She cares about him, and she's so attentive.

"He uh..." Kook inhaled a sniffle through his nose, the cold clothes not helping. "We fought.. again." His shoulders sank. "I just... can't tell if I'm being too sensitive about things. He just gets on my nerves with the shit he does sometimes.."

Her hand perched on one of Jungkook’s shoulders, thumb massaging deep circles into the dampened fabric as she listened to the younger’s troubles.

Honestly? The name ‘Taehyung’ was starting to sound sour.

She knows from experience that couples fight— to some extent. But Jisoo began to question if Jungkook’s relationship with the elder was the right fit. Hell, Kook punched a hole in the wall and showed up at her doorstep late into the night, soaked from the rain.

All because of Taehyung..

“What did he do this time?” The woman exhaled, eyes landing on the towel in Jungkook’s hand.

She carefully took it back from his hold, seeing that he wasn’t putting it to good use and started to dry his wet hair like a mother would do, looking out for his health.

“I’ll beat him for you,” Jisoo chuckled to herself, wanting to enlighten the situation no matter how dark.

Jungkook's lopsided smile was a result of Jisoo's promise to beat his boyfriend up, a breathy snort pushing through his nose. ''Maybe he needs it.''

But just as quickly, the smile fell once more, closing his eyes to focus solemnly on the towel rubbing his head. It was really soothing, it felt like a mother's love... He felt himself calm down before he opened his mouth to answer the question at hand.

''He surprised me with this amazing date night... He got all dressed up, he looked amazing...'' Kook sighs at the memory before continuing. ''And he took me to the arcade, it was tons of fun, honestly...'' he left out a few details to speed the story up, including the mcdonalds. She didn't need the cheesy parts. ''At the end of it, I wanted this.. Dumb fucking teddybear, and we didnt have enough points to get it, right?'' His eyes open to make sure his noona is keeping up. ''He flirted with the cashier girl to get it, and it just..... made me really angry. It hurt, because..He can barely hold my hand in public, but shamelessly lets a stranger touch his hand, even wrote his number down on her palm.. Obviously, it was an act.. But it still hurt! And I told him, I was angry, my temper is shitty, I know... And it just blew up into a thing, I was just so fucking angry I couldnt think!'' He was getting riled up just talking about it, breaths quickening as both anger and the anxiety kicked in.

Now Jisoo was definitely going to beat Taehyung up.

What kind of person does such a thing?

Why would he voluntarily put his boyfriend through the pain of seeing him flirt with someone else? No matter what Tae’s ulterior motive was, it was still a shitty thing to do.

“It’s understandable that you’re angry, Kook. I would be fucking fuming..” The woman comforted, now using the towel to gently pat at Jungkook’s skin.

“If you’d like.. we can talk about something else?” She noticed the way his body automatically began reacting to the memory; distressed was one way to put it.

“Stay here for as long as you’d like. Yuna’s sleeping, so we should have some peace and quiet for a bit..” Jisoo squeezed the boy’s hand, a genuine smile grazing her soft features.

Jungkook nods, her infectious smile causing him to mirror it.

''I should go get changed first, though.''

He was surprised by how easily Jisoo's comfort calmed him down already, the thoughts of Taehyung slowly drifting off to be able to relax.

He did wonder, though, what Taehyung was up to…

''I'll be right back, noona.'' He squeezed her hand back as he stood up before leaving to head to his own apartment.

~~~

Taehyung didn’t stay at his house for long. Only long enough to receive a harsh slap to his face, paired with a series of harsh profanities in the form of ear-piercing shouts.

Yes, he stole money from his father.

But Tae didn’t think a red mark on his cheek was the answer.

He didn’t think him bawling his eyes out whilst he recklessly drove towards Jungkook’s apartment— searching for much needed comfort— was worth it.

His father didn’t possess common parenting skills, that was so fucking obvious yet it still dug a hole in Taehyung’s heavy chest. Every single time.

He’d much rather have his electronics taken away, have been forbidden from hanging out with friends!— not this.

The boy’s chest heaved with every shaky breath he took, warm tears endlessly running down his face, staining the collar of his shirt.

He felt worthless.

‘You’re a fucking nobody, Taehyung!’

‘Should’ve forced your mother into getting that abortion— you’re a disappointment.’

‘If she was still here, your name would bring her shame.’

Taehyung was lucky he’d managed to stop in front of his boyfriend’s apartment in one piece, his vision had been blurred with tears. So much so that he nearly stumbled over with every step.

“K-Kook..” Taehyung weakly called out, attempting to roughly wipe the tears away, only for more to come streaming down.

“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I’m a disappointment.”

The elder knocked on the door, jaw clenched in anticipation.

Taehyung wanted to see Jungkook’s face, feeling like that’d be the true remedy.

~~~

Jungkook had just changed into dry, comfortable clothes when he heard the knock on his door, imagining it was probably Jisoo who'd grown impatient or wanted to check on him. He took a moment, combing his fingers through his mess of a hair before opening the door.

It definitely wasn't noona.

It was Taehyung, but... it also didn't look like him at all, in a sense. He was crying, eyes reddened and his entire posture was as if he'd shrunk.

He looked broken.

And suddenly it felt like Jungkook's heart shattered into a million pieces.

''Taehyung, what's wrong?''

Jungkook didn't hesitate to pull the elder in by his wrist, closing the door shut behind them for some privacy.

“I-I’m sorry..” His voice cracked, unable to meet Jungkook’s eye. Partly because of the blurriness, and partly due to his internal shame.

He was such an idiot.

“I’m so, so sorry!” The elder threw himself into his boyfriend’s arms, broken sobs muffled against the crook of his neck, eyes crinkled shut as he cried.

He felt worthless. Unloved. Taehyung was hurting, badly.

“He— He hit me.. a-and told me how I was unw-worthy of love and fuck.. I believe him.”

The elder let out, never once pulling away from Jungkook.

Jungkook was speechless at the sudden... well, everything. He'd never seen Taehyung in such a state of devastation, the normally strong man now crying in the youngers arms,

''Who-- your father hit you?'' Kook asked, wrapping his arms around Tae in a tight hug, one hand stroking the back of his head in a soothing motion.

''Hey, hey, calm down, please baby.'' The pet name came naturally, nuzzling his nose into the elders hair. ''He's wrong, Tae.. he's so wrong. Don't believe him...You're okay, you're here.''

Taehyung melted deeper into Jungkook’s comforting embrace, soaking up the younger’s reassuring words like a sponge, feeling like he’d gotten enough of a grasp on his emotions to withdraw from Kook’s touch.

“Thanks..” Taehyung weakly drew out, breath still shaky, but definitely not as bad as before.

For one, his chest no longer ached, and being by his boyfriend’s side was all he needed.

He was right to come here.

"Come, let's sit down." Jungkook said. It wasn't a question, so he pulled Taehyung with him to sit next to him on the couch, hands unable to stay away from the elders face as he swiped away the tears staining his cheeks, just like Jisoo had done to him just a moment earlier.

"I'm sorry..." Kook whispered, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on Taehyung's cheeks, as if hoping it would stop the tears. "You don't deserve to be treated that way... but you have me, okay?.. You're loved... by me..." their previous fight long forgotten-- or at least forgiven? There were more important things than that right now.

"We're okay..."

Taehyung slowly looked up from his lap after growing tired of blankly staring at the color of his jeans, now gazing into his boyfriend’s eyes with an unnamed emotion.

Fondness.. perhaps.

He really likes Jungkook— he wouldn’t know just what to do without the younger boy.

Kook is so.. Him.. and Taehyung loves that.

The elder loves everything about him.

The way his nose scrunches when he laughs, how the corners of his eyes crinkle up and never cease until he’s no longer smiling..

Is.. is this what young love feels like? Because if so, he likes it.

After the soft, ‘we’re okay..’ Tae just about lost it, tears immediately welling up in his hurt eyes.

God.. he fucking adores Kook.

“We’re okay..” Taehyung repeats, reaching over for his boyfriend’s smaller hand, tangling their fingers together.

Taehyung remembered his mother telling him he was one day going to find someone that was meant for him.. his person in the midst of the world’s chaos.

She used ‘strawberries’ as a simple reference, aware of how much her son loved the fruit.

‘Someday, you’re going to love someone as much as you love strawberries. Then, I’ll get to meet them~!’

It was straightforward, but Tae didn’t know what it all meant.

Now, he’s maybe not so clueless..

Jungkook was his person— his ‘strawberry’ in a sense.

Shit.. Taehyung’s in love with him.

“I-I..”

Now that Taehyung had admitted it, all of these feelings came rushing back to him. His heart was beating faster than before.

Who else could make him feel so calm? Who else had his back like no other?

His boyfriend did. His Jungkook.

“I.. I love you, too.”

For the first time in his life, Taehyung was 100% sure about something.

He loves Jeon Jungkook. He couldn’t deny it.

“I love you.” Tae said more clearly, squeezing the Kook’s hand in his.

Jungkook swore that he felt time freeze for a moment as the words left Taehyung's lips, staring at him with wide eyes. He squeezed the elders hand in his, just to ground himself and actually make sure that this wasn't merely a dream, because if it wasn't then--.. Taehyung loves him too.

"Yeah?" Jungkook doesn't know why those few words held so much power, but they did. As soon as he absorbed them, it was as if he was ignited from the inside out, his heart felt so full, and his body ached to feel Taehyung.

"I love you.." Jungkook finally said himself. He's done it before, but none of the times were truly this clear, and this time he didn't worry about the rejection.

"I love you so fucking much, Tae.." his voice lowered, hands removing themselves from his hold as they instead snake around Taes waist to pull his body closer into a hug, nose pressing against his neck. The nice smell Tae had put an effort into having today still lingered...

"I'm sorry for getting angry... I just... I get very jealous." Kook chuckles as he starts pressing kisses against Tae’s neck, the possessiveness behind them growing.

"Jealous when somebody wants what's mine.. and thinking they will get to have it."

Taehyung wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s neck, forehead perched on the latter’s shoulder as he giggled. Tae’s always been a bit ticklish on his neck, and having his boyfriend pressing kisses onto the skin was torturous. Good torture, if that made sense.

The elder’s eyes fluttered shut; just like always, Kook was paying close attention to the spot that drove him crazy.

“It wasn’t your fault..” Tae murmured, lips slightly parted as the slim hint of pleasure began to kick in. Taehyung’s fingers played with the strands of hair on the back of Jungkook’s head, his hand then slithering down the latter’s back. He gripped at the fabric of his baggy shirt, warm puffs of air freeing themselves from his lips.

There was little to no space between them— Taehyung could feel the heat of his breath waft back to his face.

“I love you so much.. I’m only yours.”

Jungkook smiles against the skin on Tae's neck before pressing one last open mouthed kiss against the prominent vein that trailed down the elders throat.

''Yeah?'' His own breath was hotter, voice several octaves lower as he spoke.

''Why is it that it feels like we've been apart for weeks when it's only been a few hours... Fuck, I missed you.'' He murmurs as he withdraws just enough to look into Tae's eyes, wasting no time in kissing him on the lips, the part of him he'd missed the most.

Well, that'd be a lie... There's other parts he missed just as much, and his hands weren't shy to let the Tae know of it, as they trailed underneath his shirt to get a feel of his torso, smoothing his calloused fingers over the soft, firm skin. ''Want you...'' He paused, eyes piercing through his boyfriend with a new spark in his gaze, ''Bed, now- please..''

Every time the younger bossed him around Taehyung’s caramel skin flushed, overtaken by the sudden drive to do as he pleases. He wanted to endure whatever Jungkook had in mind— he wanted to feel his boyfriend inside of him.

Just as much as Taehyung was enamored with Jungkook’s Bambi eyes, he also fell victim to his naughtier aspects. He enjoyed listening to his boyfriend’s frustrated grunts.. his sensual moans.

Taehyung loved the way Jungkook’s noticeable girth stretched him out, making him squirm in his spot.. hips twitching the deeper he nailed into his ass.

What was there not to like?

He was highly anticipating what was to come.

Taehyung didn’t need to ask, he knew the younger would be the one in charge this time. The way his sultry voice rang, commanding him to do as he wished— Taehyung turned into a submissive puddle. With a shy nod, Tae walked towards Jungkook’s bedroom, hips swaying provocatively while doing so. He sat himself on the edge of Kook’s bed, biting down on his lip whilst he discarded his shirt, carelessly throwing it to the side.

“I want you to make love to me..”

The elder pushed himself from off the bed, hands traveling up Kook’s chest before settling on his shoulders. “Please?”

Jungkook flashes his genuine bunny-like smile as he looks down at his boyfriend, the sweet boy peeking through his layers of desires. He nods, towering over the elder as he presses another chaste kiss on his lips before using his muscular frame to force Taehyung to back down on the bed, guiding them both to scoot up on the duvet until the elder was on his back, Jungkook on his knees above him.

"I'll make you feel so good, I promise," Kook murmured, his face morphing back into his dominant persona as he discards of his own shirt, leaning down to immediately begin kissing Taehyung on the neck, down to his shoulders, alternating between his tongue, teeth and small sucks. This time, he was the one marking the other-- and he was going to take his sweet time with him.

Taehyung worshipped the boy’s muscles with his roaming hands, hips rocking on their own from the way Jungkook’s sauntering lips stained his neck, chest, and shoulders.

“A-ah..” He gasped, one hand gripping at his boyfriend’s longer curls, feeling the soft texture in between his fingers.

“I can’t get over how strong you are.. hmm!” Taehyung’s dull nails dug deeper into his boyfriend‘s bicep, throwing his head back into the pillow.

Shit, was there such a thing as a muscle kink? Because the elder was sure that’s what he was into..

Completely blindsided by lust, a long, drawn-out moan bounced against the walls of the quiet room. It was as if he felt the blood clot underneath his skin, squirming at the way Jungkook’s tongue effortlessly flicked against it.

A low growl vibrated in Jungkook's chest, he could feel his blood rushing down straight to his cock with every reaction and sound he drew out of his boyfriend. He pressed his clothed bulge against Taehyung's, feeling the obvious; they were both already rock hard for each other.

"Keep touching me, fuck... you're so delicious, and all mine." he murmurs into Taehyungs collarbone before giving it a harsh suck, tainting his skin with purple.

Both men were turning into breathy messes, the tortuous aching between Kooks legs only spurring his greediness further. He desperately needed to be inside of Taehyung.

But, there was no need to rush, he wanted Tae to turn into a needy, squirming mess underneath him--- and he loved being a tease.

"So beautiful," Kook growls, flexing his muscles deliberately for Taehyung to see-- and feel.

"So loved." His voice smoothed out with the words, a drawn out moan pushing through his lips as he started to grind their hips together, kisses trailing back up to the elders lips. He took the chance to slip his tongue into Taehyung's mouth when his lips were parted in a moan, the taste itself allowing low, needy grunts to rumble in his throat, muffled by the kisses.

“Jungkook..! A-ahh.. j-just like that, baby.”

Taehyung’s head snapped to the side, face scrunched up into a delightful mess as all his senses were able to detect was Jungkook’s clothed cock rubbing up against his own.

“Fuck.. make love to me already, I need to feel you inside..”

His needy hole clenched down on its own, the pure image of his boyfriend’s dick rearranging his guts was effective— maybe a little too effective as Tae merely moaned at the thought, hips meeting Jungkook’s with every rocking motion.

"I will, baby, be patient.." Jungkook purrs into his ear before he sits up straight on his knees, admiring the view beneath him as he smoothed his hands down the elders torso until his fingers curl by the hem of Tae's pants and boxers in one go, tugging at them for a bit, teasing a second too long before he gives in-- peeling the fabrics off of his boyfriend, using his strength to easily lift Taehyung's hips up as he does so.

Taehyung’s rock-hard cock sprung up and whipped against his lower stomach, making his body shiver from the sudden contact. The boy wasn’t hard to please, finding every touch of Jungkook’s fingertips intoxicating.

He stared up at his boyfriend with hazy, dimmed eyes— love clearly swirling from within the irises as he shamelessly brought his knees up to his chest, giving Kook a wide view of his puckered hole.

“Use me..” Taehyung whispered, wiggling his hips invitingly, loving the attention he was getting.

The day’s shitty events were long forgotten, instead they were consumed by the lust he felt towards his man.

It was eating him up inside, antsy as he waited for Jungkook’s next move.

It was weird to think that at the beginning, Taehyung felt.. anxious in the bedroom. In a way, the latter didn’t want to open himself up to the younger too much. But now, as he flashed all he had to offer to his boyfriend, Tae grew more comfortable.

Love really does that to you, huh?

The sharp inhale didn't go unnoticed by either of the men as the younger's eyes admired the view, spreading Tae's hole further with his thumbs. Jungkook dropped down to his chest momentarily, there was no way he'd let this simply be a feast for his fingers.

No, he wanted a taste.

Without a word, he did as he pleased, placing warm, wet kisses on Taehyung's hole, the delicate skin so tasteful to his mouth that he moans at the sensation himself, along with the addicting sounds the man above him makes.

Taehyung’s hooded eyes widened in surprise, not expecting his boyfriend to kiss him somewhere so.. private.

“Shit— baby, that’s embarrassing..” The elder moaned out loud, still keeping his legs in place whilst he watched Jungkook, infatuated with the younger’s mind.

“Ah..” He bit down on his lip, blushing a significant amount.

His outgrown fringe fell over his eyes, skin moist from utter suspense.

Tae was an embarrassed mess. Yet, he didn’t mind.

Kook is his boyfriend, he’s supposed to see every part of him no matter how personal.

''You've got nothing to be embarrassed about, baby,'' Jungkook glances up at his boyfriend with eyes blown wide with lust and awe. Maybe a part of the younger did enjoy when Taehyung became a bit flustered, but as long as he was actually comfortable and pliant with what was going on, that's what's important.

Jungkook sticks his full tongue out, using the wet muscle to circle the elders hole that was now soaked with saliva, prodding the tip of his tongue against the opening to draw more reactions. Just a little bit more teasing... Taehyung was delicious.

“Baby..!” Taehyung‘s body was extremely responsive, hips jittering as he clung on to a handful of his boyfriend’s hair. His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw slack as he focused on his heavy breathing.

Jungkook’s tongue felt wonderful.. fuck, how would it feel like if the younger ate him out?

The tempting imagery made Taehyung’s pink entrance clench, then proceed to unclench in a pattern. His legs were shaking the slightest bit, toes curled as he snuck a quick glance down at Kook.

“So good.. so fucking good..” Despite his vulgar language, the elder’s voice wasn’t anywhere near as confident. It was soft, close to the form of a strained whisper. As if his hips had a mind of their own, they slowly rocked into Jungkook’s mouth. The sensation was so new yet so.. not. Taehyung fell victim to it, hard.

Jungkook was a little surprised by how well received his ministrations were, so incredibly responsive to him-- it made the younger more desperate for his body, feeling his cock twitch and throb with every shudder from Tae's body.

He pushed the tip of his tongue inside of Taehyung's hole, the slick from his saliva making it easier-- so he did it again, and again, and again until he was able to practically fuck his tongue into Tae. Meanwhile, Jungkook used one hand to reach down to unbutton his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing in the room to indicate what's to come.

Every time Jungkook’s slim tongue thrusted into him, a cry of pleasure erupted from the back of the elder’s throat.

His legs visibly struggled to stay put, thighs lightly closing in on his boyfriend’s head— both hands placed on the crown to steady himself in the midst of the overwhelming rapture.

He was in heaven..

“Fuck.. I-I like that..” Taehyung breathily admitted, smoothing his fingers over Kook’s messy hair whilst he quivered for him, slyly directing his ass closer to the other’s feasting mouth.

As if it was a natural reaction, Tae’s naked body shivered with anticipation at the familiar sound of the zipper coming undone, grunting in disappointment when his boyfriend’s fat dick had yet to push its way inside of him. Taehyung was impatient, but the sensation of Jungkook’s tongue kept him engaged during the meantime.

Jungkook wiggled his pants down below his hips, just enough for him to be able to pull his throbbing length out to immediately stroke himself to the sounds of the elder, still indulging in his ass for a moment longer until he deemed it enough. He withdrew his mouth for a bit, spitting on Tae's already soaked hole for good measure.

''Gonna have to do that to me next time, I'm getting jealous..'' Jungkook jokes, but his voice was smooth and low. He sat up straight to finally discard of the rest of his clothes, making it even in terms of nudity,

''Keep holding your legs up just like that, baby.'' He murmurs, one hand still lazily stroking his cock, tip reddened and eager for the elder, while using the fingers of his other hand to begin stretching out Tae's cute little ass. One finger easily slipped inside thanks to the previous tongue fucking, so it didn't take long before he managed to slip two-- even three inside, until it became a tight fit. A part of Jungkook wondered, and almost craved, to fit all of them, just like Tae had done to him.

Taehyung did as his boyfriend instructed, legs holding up on their own as his slender fingers parted his sloppy entrance, widening the rosy area to grant Jungkook clearer access.

“Fuuck..!” A sharp cry of initial pain, the younger’s never stuffed three digits inside of him before.

The soreness in his legs was nothing compared to this.

Meanwhile, his fingers had a hard time staying in place, the wetness from around his hole making it difficult to get a nice grasp on the moist, sticky skin.

The boy’s raven hair tousled even more when he arched his spine off the bed, carelessly throwing his head back with a loud moan, hips swiveling as he attempted to fuck himself on his boyfriend’s hand.

“I-I’m ready for another one..” Tae lowly pleaded, beads of precum staining his soft lower stomach.

''Good boy,'' Jungkook cooed, his eyes wide with admiration of how good he's stretched out Tae's hole, the rims of it turning a darker shade of pink from the constant friction. He adds a fourth finger, jamming the elder full of his long fingers until he reaches that one spot he knows will drive him towards madness.

''Fuck, you're taking my fingers so well..'' Jungkook groans at the sight, the slick sounds of his fingers now pumping into Taehyung, his other hand jerking himself off with more greed, smearing his precum down his length. He was practically ready for Kook's fat cock, and the younger couldn't wait to give it to him.

“I’m— I’m a good boy..” Taehyung verbally replayed his boyfriend’s low praise, melting further into a puddle of submission as he allowed Jungkook to toy with his worn-out entrance.

No matter how his peers perceived him to be inside of the bedroom, Tae loved letting the younger boss him around— belittle him, in a way.

Taehyung felt so small whenever he was under Jungkook’s control; it was pathetic how much his persona shifted in the snap of a finger. The boy was no longer the grumpy, asshole of a jerk that dismissed how others felt.

No, instead he became.. sensitive, breathless for air as he laid underneath Kook’s far more muscular body.

“Baby! T-that’s so— a-ahh.. so good..” Nonetheless, Tae was desperate to wrap around the veiny cock that ripped him away from his virginity, showcasing a whole new world of pleasure that Taehyung didn’t know even existed until Jungkook came along and showed him.

“Please.. please put it in me, Kook.. please.” He had tears in his eyes, finding the younger’s fingers filling as they quickly fidgeted inside of him.

Taehyungs begging was exactly what Jungkook needed to lose the last bit of patience he had left in him, not wasting a single second longer to pull his fingers out with a wet pop. He moved up into position on his knees, leaning over his boyfriend with his muscular body to get a good close up of the mess he's made of the man, all while using his fingers that were coated with Taes juices to run it down his veiny cock.

"You want this, hm?" Kook made it sound like he was about to tease again, but within the same second he drove his hips forward, letting the thick head of his cock push inside of Taehyung's stretched hole.

"Ah, fuck...yes.." he groaned, slowly filling the other male up until he was fully inside. The warm tightness made Jungkook's cock throb inside of Taehyung, keeping himself still for a second to relish in the feeling, "shit... four fingers stretching you and you're still so tight for me.."

Taehyung’s arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s neck as the latter gradually screwed deeper into him, moaning into the sweaty skin. His hole welcomed the younger’s pulsating cock with a compressed clench of his walls, the warmth securely wrapping around the shaft.

He circled his legs around Jungkook’s small waist, nudging him closer until he felt his boyfriend’s heavy balls press against him. Even then, that wasn’t enough.

“I love you so fucking much..” Taehyung mumbled into the crook of his neck, softly kissing at Jungkook’s Adam’s apple, prodding his nose against the clammy skin.

“You’re t-the best boyfriend in the world..” By now, Tae was simply spilling truthful nonsense.

He couldn’t seem to think clearly when Kook’s dick was planted inside of him, the tip resting against his prostate.

Jungkook felt his entire body shudder, well earned by the man below. The younger loved verbal confirmations, and the way Taehyung said every single word it was as if it gave him an eargasm.

Still warming his cock deep inside of Taes wonderful ass, he slowly begins to move as he hovers over his boyfriend. He keeps it gentle for now, his heavy breaths steady.

"I love you too...ah.." Kook withdrew his hips all the way, until just the tip was inside before snapping them forward, drawing out a low moan of his own. Taking it slow like this after such a buildup made him feel every little clench and throb of Taehyung's insides.

"You like this?" Jungkook asks, finding his slow rhythm to continuously hit that sweet spot-- but without any rush or intensity. This wasnt like before, he wasnt just fucking his boyfriend... this was them having sex-- making love.

Taehyung loves him.. Jungkook was savoring Taes body with his own all while the overwhelming emotions were swirling in his eyes.

Taehyung withdrew his arms from around the younger’s neck, instead softly cupping Jungkook’s face in between his hands, gazing up at his boyfriend’s concentrated eyes while he made love to him.

In a sweet moment like this, he noted how the space between Kook’s brows creased up in attentiveness, how his growing hair effortlessly fell down to his face— things Tae wouldn’t have normally taken notice of if he was getting hammered onto the bed.

“I like it, a lot..” He opened up his legs a little more, enjoying the slower pace this time around.

It was.. alleviating, in some way. To have Kook care for his body with such delicacy in his actions..

The elder craned his neck upwards to press a soft kiss onto the boy’s pouty lips, muffling a strained moan in the meanwhile.

“So good.. I love this— a-ah.. hmm..”

Jungkook's eyes fluttered shut, a quiet rumbling moan getting caught in Taes mouth as the younger kept coming back for more. He couldn't get enough of his lips.

"Feels so good," Kook breathes out when he withdraws from the kiss, his strong arms holding him up with a hand on each side of the elders head, his torso hovering over the male below him. Gradually, the movement of his hips sped up-- using his core strength to drive his entire length in and out of Taehyung,

Eager to draw more sounds of the elder, he kisses down his neck, once more giving the purple marks adorning his skin another addition to the collection before moving down further, his lips encasing Taehyung's nipple-- he wondered if he was just as sensitive as he was. Tonight was all about finding more ways to make his boyfriend feel absolutely amazing, to keep his mind off anything but Jungkook.

The elder’s fingernails grazed along the strong muscles in Jungkook’s back, squeezing and clawing at the latter’s shoulder blades whenever he was met by a harsh prod at his prostate.

“Ah fuck..”

There was not a remaining inch in Taehyung’s body that wasn’t sensitive under the younger’s commissions. He lewdly studied the way his boyfriend engulfed his perky nipple into his mouth, torso stuttering when Kook began to deliciously flick his tongue. That boy knew what he was doing..

“B-babe right there..!” His hips continued to meet Jungkook’s halfway, moaning his little heart out with every precise thrust. Taehyung forcefully lowered the younger’s body, feeling the boy’s chest heave against his own as the elder’s nails dragged along his back, sure to leave a few scratches.

“I-I’m gonna cum soon..” He breathed out against Jungkook’s temple, inhaling his scent whilst he readied himself for the upcoming explosion.

"Me too, shit... please, can I--fuck.." Jungkooks clammy chest rubbed against Taehyungs, providing a friction between their bodies, his stomach pressing against the elders cock with every thrust. His movements were precise, powerful yet soft. Full of love and the desire to make the man beneath him cum just from his cock consistently prodding at Tae's prostate.

"C-can I cum inside? Want to fill you up so badly.." he allowed a whiny moan to escape his lips, burying his nose in the crook of Taehyung's neck, his rhythm slowly losing it's consistency and instead replaced with needy thrusts.

The warmth of his cock getting squished in between their sweaty bodies drove Taehyung insane, jaw hanging slack whilst he roughly dragged his nails across Jungkook’s back.

“Y-yes,” He whined, “fill me up..”

Fuck, he was so close..

Tae’s shaky legs wrapped tighter around the younger’s waist, the heels of his feet digging into the latter’s sides for physical support— emotional, too.

His high-pitched moans were silenced by the bite on Jungkook’s shoulder, teeth gradually sinking deeper into the flexed skin as he held his boyfriend close.

Jungkook cried out a throaty moan at the various sensations driving him absolutely mad. Everything from the elders teeth biting his shoulder, to the scratches on his back, even their sweaty bodies just grinding together. But the best sensation of them all was the way Jungkook’s cock was tightly squeezed by the warmth of Taehyung's insides.

A few punishing thrusts followed, fucking into his boyfriend as deep as he was physically able to, low grunts and curses slipping past his lips,

"I love you, I love you, I fucking love you..!" Jungkook mindlessly repeated over and over in a barely audible whisper between his breathy groans, a particularly loud one following when his hips stuttered as he finally came inside. He kept his cock lodged inside of Taes ass, desperate to fill him up properly as his cock pulsated with every rope of his cum, filling him up with everything he could give.

Taehyung’s long, drawn out moan followed soon after, the skin of their lower stomachs covered in a puddle of his sticky mess.

“Ah..” He moaned at the feeling of the younger’s cum spilling into his insides, clenching down on his boyfriend’s limp cock to squeeze out whatever may be left.

His legs droopily fell to his sides, disconnecting themselves from Jungkook’s small waist.

“Babe, that was amazing..”

Taehyung’s nails were no longer clawing at Jungkook’s skin, instead he smoothed his palms over the fresh marks on his back, slender fingers occasionally grazing over the agitated spots.

As if it was the last time he’d ever see him again, Tae wrapped his arms around the younger, pulling him all the more close.

“I love you,” he whispered, wanting to permanently ink the words in Jungkook’s brain.

Taehyung didn’t want him to ever forget.

He didn’t mind that his boyfriend’s dick was still inside of him, the elder’s persona shifted to a more caring chapter.

“You did so good,” he pressed a wet smooch on Kook’s rosy cheek, brushing his fingers through his tangled hair.

“Thank you for loving me..” Taehyung glanced down at his face, giggling a little before focusing back on his boyfriend’s hair.

Jungkook grimaced at the burning sensation of the claw marks on his back, the feeling of them grew as he came back down from his sexual high. It was quickly forgotten however, when the elder pulled him down for a kiss on the cheek, the youngers shy mannerism crawling back to the surface in the form of a blush on his cheeks and a coy smile.

"I like this new side of you..." he exhaled quietly as he slipped out of his boyfriend, moving to lay down next to him on his back. His hand that was the closest to taehyung reached out to find his hand, intertwining their fingers as a sweet gesture.

"I always knew I loved you in a sense," he suddenly confessed, "but I think... since that first night in the gymnasium... you've grown so much, you know?" Jungkook glanced over at Taehyung, squeezing his hand affectionately, "And so did my feelings.. it's crazy."

Now it was Taehyung’s turn to blush, pushing through the itching nervousness as he continued to hold unwavering eye contact, carefully listening to Jungkook’s every word.

He squeezed the younger’s hand back, smiling at the compliment.

Every time Tae hears his boyfriend admit how much he’s grown.. it tugs at his heartstrings.

That phrase reassured him that he was capable of additional change, and by the sounds of it, change wasn’t an unattainable milestone for him to reach.

Taehyung wanted to be a better man than his father ever was.

That was something that's always scared him— ending up like his deadbeat of a dad.

Now, the elder was sure that would never happen to him.

He was growing little by little everyday, something his father never did.

“I.. I think I knew I had feelings for you all the way back in elementary school,” Taehyung chuckled, staring up at the ceiling whilst he reminisced.

“Remember that day, uh.. was it during recess? I don’t know, but I fell.. and you shared your banana milk with me? Saying how it’ll magically make me feel better or something like that..?” The sound of the elder’s amused laughter echoed in the otherwise quiet room, turning his head to look at Jungkook.

“I remember thinking, ‘this isn’t magical at all, I still feel like shit.’ I don’t know.. it’s stupid, but.. I guess that’s when I started wanting to talk to you more? I wanted to hold your hand.. and kiss you, and share your magical banana milk.”

His smile grew, turning over to his side to snuggle up against Kook’s chest.

“Anyways, I guess all I wanna say is.. ha, I loved you first~”

Jungkook's toothy grin widened at the memory, his heart beating faster at the elders counter confession. They've been through so much, done so much, and yet Taehyung managed to make Jungkook's heart race.

''I guess so, but I said it first,'' He embraced his boyfriend, stroking through his messy curls before placing a kiss on his head. Exhaustion gradually hit him, the day had been eventful after all. He was just glad it ended well.

''Babe?'' Kook used the pet name in a coy manner to draw Tae's attention to him, ''I just wanted to say... You can stay here as long as you'd like, okay?''

Preferably Jungkook would just say, move the fuck in with me, but... yeah, why not?

Just the thought of Taehyung going back home was frustrating. Especially after what had happened today.

Jungkook would do anything to keep him safe... And this is something he could offer.

Now he definitely would need that part time job he's been putting off for too long.

Taehyung snuggled closer to his boyfriend, looking up at him with so much profound adoration in his tired eyes..

Jungkook was the only good thing in his life at the moment.

“Okay,” the corners of his lips curled up into a thankful smile, draping one leg over the younger’s as he closed his eyes to the warmth radiating off of his chest.

“Goodnight, Kook.”

Taehyung pressed a kiss onto the boy’s neck, sooner than later allowing sleep to take over him.

That night, he slept like a baby. No worries, no tossing, just.. soundly.

Jungkook wraps his arm around Taehyung, responding immediately with a kiss at the crown of his head, murmuring his sleepy words.

"Goodnight Tae."

Jungkook stayed awake for a while, even though he was exhausted, chest heaving up and down slowly, the gentle movements rocking the elder to sleep.

His eyes fluttered close, but opened just as quickly when he remembered something.

'I'll be right back, noona.'

He’d forgotten about Jisoo.

Ah, fuck.... But she would understand, right?

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

#fic: Love maze #taekook smut #vkook smut #top jungkook #bottom taehyung #dom jungkook #sub taehyung #bts smut #bts mxm #taekook series #taekook school au #bts series #taekook fanfic #vkook fanfic #bts taekook

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/78831778

Chapter 66

Nick woke up with a nasty headache. Also, he felt like he had been lying on a stone all night. His body ached and this didn't help his poor head at all. “Virgil?”, he rasped, because he didn't manage to shout. His husky voice alone felt already too loud. “Ohh...” He figured he could be lying here, waiting for his manager to find him in time, or until he was able to shout again. But then again, his bed still felt uncomfortable as fuck, so he better got out of there. His hands searched the mattress. It felt so weird, almost wet... Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he noticed that his hands were all dirty. “What the...?” He blinked and looked at them. Then he wiped his hands. Dirt...where did that come from? When he took a look around, he found himself surrounded by a bright green hedge. Before he could fuss about the weird room décor, he observed that he was sitting in grass and not anywhere inside. The purple but cloudy sky above him also proved a point. Stunned, Nick remained sitting, hands pressing into the moist grass, and pulling slightly at the stalks.

How did he get here? A picnic? He looked around again. There was no poof that another person had been here with him, no blanket and nothing else. Rather not. So, he had been wandering around and passed out? Well, that was more likely. He slowly put his feet on the ground to lift himself up, feeling sorry for his fancy rags. Another pair ruined, so it seemed. Now he had the honour to find out where the hell he went. He thought he had seen the hedge before, but didn't all hedges look the same? He followed it, cussing about the after effects of the drugs he must've been taking last night, and soon noticed with relief that he had been right about the familiar surroundings. Even though it looked much brighter than usual, he still recalled it was the park in the Avalon Hotel. The maze, more like. He remembered getting lost in it from time to time due to party favours. But now he was almost in a clear state again...he should be fine...After all, he needed something for his head, like right now.

Determined, he continued walking along the hedge, having an odd feeling in his stomach that he also knew already. Yeah, it seemed like he forgot something again and he'd remember later or never. Better never, he thought, because it didn't feel good. The feeling got stronger the closer he came to his statue. He had planned to simply use his secret entrance, in order to not being stared at by the staff. Even an idol needed some nice and quiet sometimes. But walking past the statue without looking at it now felt wrong. He stopped in his tracks and eyed it, still being too far away to see anything more than a little shiny figure. What could be there? Nick sighed. He'd see it anyway, so he could just as well go now... Coming closer, his stomach began to toss and turn, protesting. Nick came to a halt again. Now what?, he said to his stomach. I thought you wanted this. He hugged himself and breathed deeply. His poor head.. he could come back later...cure himself first...but he was almost there. What's this sudden curiosity?, he asked himself. As if I wanted to see...what I did...but what did I do? Feeling stupid about idling around for so long, he went on walking towards the weird feeling. There was no way out anyway.

Now closer, he recognized that the statue looked different. There was something dark hanging on it. A banner? Another “Nick is a prick” kinda thing from a disappointed fan? His stomach said no. He turned his gaze to the ground and forced himself to move on. What could it be? What nasty thing could it be that made him feel like that? It couldn't be real... Looking up, he identified the body immediately.

“Oh, no...”, he gasped but he didn't feel it. His mind had already moved on. Gaze wandering along the lines of the cuts, the mess he had made, the rage he had been putting into all his movements. The chaos was showing. Blood had been tripping from the body and had painted the legs and pedestal of the statue black. The golden Nick held it out to him. The real Nick made a step on the pedestal and pulled himself up. Fixing his eyes on Virgil, he gently put his arms under him, holding the body that still had some warmth. With tears in his eyes, Nick pressed his head against the other man's bleeding chest. It was quiet.

The next moment he recalled was noticing himself wandering through the streets. His feet were moving all by themselves, so it seemed. He had no idea how long he had been walking. He was only happy to realize the trip went straight to home, because he was exhausted. Virgil. Why did he think about Virgil now? Nick smiled faintly. Because the manager was probably worried out of his mind by now. He maybe even missed a gig. Heh. He chuckled quietly. The privilege of being a rock idol. Virgil would forgive him. Entering his front yard, Constable Hunt gave him a shocked look. “Ah, nothing, just a headache”, Nick waved him off and quickly went inside. This Bobby was nice but still too nosey for his taste. “Virgil, I'm home and I feel awful!”, he shouted into the corridor, more playfully than anything else. He was in a state where he still felt the headache but was too giggly to mind treating it himself. “How are you?”

He went into the kitchen to mix himself a cure and shortly after, somebody went in. “Where have you been?”, a familiar but unexpected voice said. Nick turned around, the empty glass in hand, and was surprised for a moment to see the person in front of him again. “Chris?”, he wondered. “Yeah, it's me, Virgil is still out.” The long lost friend said casually and sat down on a counter, eyeing  Nick curiously. “Are you okay? What's that in your face?” Nick put the glass down and wiped some hair strands out of his face. “What? What's wrong with my face?” Chris left the counter and stepped closer. “Are you...bleeding?” Nick wiped his cheek, now annoyed. “No, I'm not bleeding. I'm fine. Look, it's nothing.” He turned around, arms held up, to show himself in full functioning glory. Chris' eyes widened. “Holy shit!”, he gasped. Nick looked down and noticed for the first time that his jacket was full of dark brown spots...they could still be everything...but... “Is that blood?”, Chris asked. Nick pulled up the cloth and wiped it. “I...I don't know...” “Where have you been?” “I don't know...” He gave his friend a helpless look. Then he shook his head. “Of course it's not blood, don't be ridiculous! It's probably lipstick...” He turned away again, forgot about his throbbing head and went out, targeting the stairs. “I know what lipstick looks like!”, Chris' voice contained more panic now. Nick ran up the stairs, wrapping his arms around the bloody jacket and didn't stop until he could lock the bedroom door behind him.

There, he got rid of the crusted clothes and looked at himself in the mirror. In disbelief, he palpated his stained cheek. That was bad. That was very bad. Stepping backwards, he pressed his eyes shut and massaged his head. He felt dizzier now, he could barely hold himself up anymore. He needed his secret stash! Where the hell was his secret stash? Gosh, why did Virgil have to be gone now? He stumbled to the first possible place he could've hidden his precious party favours in. The search made him gather his last bit of strength. Franticly, he went through all the drawers. What he could find where the sad remnants of a once copious stock. They were a few pills, all in different colours and shapes and none of them were reds-and-yellows. “I guess these must do”, he said, holding them in shivering hands, and quickly swallowed them down.

He must've been passed out for a while, before he was awaken by a loud thunder. He winced and stretched himself, relieved to feel better. If only the bloody weather would shut up. Angrily, he pulled the blanket over himself, determined not to move until the fuss was over. “Nick? Nick, open the door! Nick!”, he heard the muffled sound from outside, accompanied by another thunder. Nick moaned. What he had thought to be the weather was actually someone knocking. Gosh, why now? Unwillingly, he went up to open. He failed at first, because for some reason he had locked himself in. Oh, dang, he had promised Virgil not to lock himself in. He should probably give him the keys... Opening, he saw a tall man with glasses and black hair. More precisely, he firstly stared at his chest in confusion and then he looked up to his face. Arthur. Yes, Arthur!

Nick smiled. But for some reason Arthur didn't. “What's wrong?” “What's wrong?”, Arthur repeated, sounding upset. “Tell me what's right! Where have you been? Chris says you came here covered in blood, and then you locked yourself in and didn't talk to anyone anymore!” Nick's face fell. He unsurely palpated the doorframe. “Covered in blood?”, he quietly asked. “That's what he said”, Arthur walked into the bedroom. “I don't know why he should make that up.” His gaze fell on the jacket Nick had left on the floor. Nick's heart missed a beat when he saw it, too. He clutched the doorframe while his lover picked the piece of cloth up like it was a corpus delicti. Nobody said a word when Arthur examined it and obviously found the stains, then let the jacket fall back down. “You know, you still have it on your face”, he said quietly and Nick promptly wiped his cheek. He couldn't say a word though. “I wonder, if someone attacked you, you would be hurt, right? It would be your blood. But you're not hurt...” “How do you know it's blood?”, Nick protested. “I know what it looks like”, Arthur said. Nick winced. Of course he did. “Listen, I...I don't know what happened...I didn't do anything, I swear...I mean...do you think I...? Do you think I could...?” “I don't know”, Arthur answered, gloomily eyeing the floor. “I think I don't know who you are. You could tell me everything, make me believe everything...How would I know?”

Nick's stomach turned. “But Arthur”, he said, abandoning his save place at the door and coming closer to the man he called his love. “You know me...We spend to much time together...Have I been so bad to you? I guess I am a good actor...” He shrugged. “...but only on stage...for the show...you can't blame me for this.” Arthur didn't light up. “Do you know what happened today?”, he asked sternly. Nick stopped. “Except me passing out?” He shook his head. “No...” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Your manager was found dead in the park of the Avalon Hotel, slaughtered like all the others.” Nick stared at him. “My...Virgil?” “Is it his blood?”, Arthur asked, eyes fixated on Nick. “My Virgil...” Nick whispered and turned away, covering his face with his hands. “Virgil...”He gave a few dry sobs, then Arthur grabbed his arm. “Nick! Nick, snap out of it, you hear me?” Nick ripped himself out of the grip. “How dare you! My manager died! How can you think it was me?” “Because it's obvious you're not honest with me!” Nick eyed him sadly. “I hate to bring it up now, but...” Arthur struggled for words. “How could you...?” Nick watched him in confusion. Arthur waved himself off. “You know what? You better come with me and see yourself. I'm...curious what you're gonna say.”

Nick indeed followed curiously when they left the room, but he soon felt a lump in his throat as he noticed which way they were going. Arthur didn't spare him, they were heading exactly in the direction of the room that Nick now wished he had locked. Their journey ended in the guestroom where the Nightblooming Nonsuches still stood on a side table and shimmered innocently. Arthur darted a glance at Nick, but the rockstar only eyed the flowers in silence. “This is Morrie's room, right?”, Arthur asked and Nick nodded in defeat. “You're so quiet”, Arthur went on. “Come on, explain.” Nick winded. “I guess you've already seen the photo on the desk...” “Perhaps,” the other man said without batting an eye. Nick hung his head. “Now, are you trying to find out what excuse would work? Are you wondering how much I know?”, Arthur dug deeper. The other man wiped his forehead. “I don't know what you're getting at.” “I can put one and one together, Nick! You gave me the hint yourself! The thing about loving two people at once? I thought it was about Sally, but...it was Morrie, right? The way you acted around him, how you talked to him when I was passed out from electric shocks...The way you never wanted me here until he died...You even gave him my offering!” Arthur's voice began to shiver. “No, I didn't give it away. Morrie just...He...” “He found out and you didn't want to look suspicious?” “Er...no...I...I don't know how to explain this...it's a weird coincidence and it has nothing to do with what I'm feeling for you...Believe me, Arthur,” Nick begged. “Believe you?”, Arthur blurted out. “How can I believe you anything? You lied to me! You played with me! And with Morrie too! Or, Morrie and you played with me, that's still unresolved but it doesn't matter...” “No, Morrie...Morrie didn't know”, Nick explained. That didn't cheer Arthur up. The look Nick received from him made him shrink.

“Arthur, I love you both! That's what I was trying to tell you! It's like with you and me and Sally!” Arthur shook his head and made a few steps backwards. “I don't love Sally...it was a crush! Nobody loves two people at once! You only love yourself!” “How can you say this? You should know me better! Didn't I make you feel good? Didn't I make you feel like a human being again? How would I do that if I only cared about me?” “It doesn't matter”, Arthur snapped, eagerly shaking his head. “I have to leave! Thinking that I stayed here for so long, only for you! I have to get my shit together and quit!” He sounded more like he was talking to himself. “But Arthur!”, Nick shouted and grabbed his arm. “Where would you go?” “To where I should have gone already!” Arthur freed himself and began to flee. “Arthur!”, Nick cried. “Wait! You're upset! You don't now what you're doing!” “I know very well what I'm doing”, the other man snapped back. “But why would you leave?”, Nick whined. Arthur sighed. “Fine!”, he shouted. “Just so that you know what you've done!” He turned around to face Nick for one last time.

“I have a brother! He was brought to Germany...in the train...You remember, they were taking children to Germany, promising to bring them back some day? Well, surprise, they never came back! My brother is still out there somewhere and I have to find him!” Nick gave him a shocked look, if it was due to the dramatic fate or the memories, Arthur couldn't say. “All I wanted was to get out of here and save him! But then you showed up! You made me turn my back on him, only to play your fucking game with me!” Nick's back hit the wall. “I wasn't playing...and I didn't know...” “Well, now you do!”, Arthur said bitterly. “And also, two people died and you come back all covered in blood! I can't deal with this shit! I don't want to stay for longer only to find out you're a murderer!” He turned away from the other man. “Goodbye, Nick!” “Arthur!”, Nick cried again and followed the angry Downer. “No, look at me! Don't leave me like that! Not like that! You have to believe me...!” “No, you have to believe me! It's over!” Arthur didn't look back. “I love you...”, Nick said quieter. The Downer didn't answer, he only left, without slowing down once, without hesitation. The silence was unbearable. In his front yard Nick stopped, realizing he had no chance. What was a traitor against a long lost brother? Clutching a wall, he watched Arthur leave, wishing the other man would turn back just once, but he never did.

#we happy few #whf #wehappyfew #nick lightbearer #nicklightbearer #whfarthurhastings #arthur hastings we happy few #whfarthur #nickxarthur #whfnick #whf nick

[alpaca-writes]

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.

------

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

[zwiezraczek]

6 + 1 Underground [Four x OC/reader] Chapter 5

SUMMARY: Sasha is a Polish girl, with a strange past. She has various skills, driving amongst others. So she becomes Eight. And you know that Four plus Four is Eight…

CHAPTER 1 - CHAPTER 2 - CHAPTER 3 - CHAPTER 4 - CHAPTER 5: Eight’s Mission CHAPTER 6

Sasha lives her first mission as the Ghost of Kubica. Adrenaline is there.

WORDS: 2.4k

TAGLIST (if you want to be part of it, leave a comment! ^^) : @kingniazx @imjustboredso @pandamanda99 @mustbeaweasleyginger @cooliosmosh @lillymitl 

Sasha's hands covered in white gloves wandered on the steering wheel. She had waited for this moment since she joined the team, and here it came: she was in Paris, waiting for One and Two to come out of the Villa Saïd in the 16th Arrondissement in Paris to step on it. This was the adrenaline rush she needed right here and right now, and nothing else. Five sat by her side, nervously checking the entrance of the Villa, expensive cars going in and out every few minutes, minutes nearer to the moment Sasha could drive as she always did: Kubica had to be awaken. She sat in a nice black car, a black Renault RS, slender and not very noticeable, nothing too flashy as she was once told by Piotr and from then stuck to that rule. Unless told otherwise. But now, they had to blend in, as rich tourists waiting for anything, their husbands, their friends, girlfriends? Who cared as long as Kubica sat behind the steering wheel.

Three proudly called the two of them “bonitas” as he picked their disguises, flowery dresses and satin shawls on their hair, glasses for Five and none for Eight. They looked adorable, nothing suspicious in this chic district, and that was the whole point. Sitting in the front seat, nobody remarked them as they seemed to carelessly chat about the new Louis Vuitton's collection, the one with red scarves and leather bags, whereas Eight asked Five if she had any new information coming from Two. But still nothing. No blond head in sight, nor One's face, no running, no people covered in blood. As a small talk, Five told her how Two got injured in Florence, and what a bitchy patient she was moving around and even going out as she lost a shit ton of blood to shoot some of the guys: this women was unbelievable. Sasha smiled, hands stiff. She could feel the leather under her palms, she felt the engine, this clean machine only waiting to go faster and faster. She could sense it.

“Bonjour demoiselles,” Eight heard in her ear along with Five: Three's voice from the car parked near the Place de l'Etoile.

“Something wrong,” Sasha asked, ready to speed up at any moment.

“Twenty one still inside,” he asked.

“Yes, they are,” Five replied looking at Eight, a bit nervous. “This shouldn't take too long if... Mierda, here they are,” she shouted as she saw from the corner of her eye One, covered with blood and Two having his back as they advanced towards the car. Five went to the backseat, already taking her medical supplies as Sasha had her hand on the lever, ready to go.

“What the hell you did,” Sasha asked, as One was put into the car by Two before she shot some bullets towards the villa and making her way next to Eight.

“He fucked up,” Seven's voice resonated in her ear. He stayed on the top of the building facing the villa, ready to snipe, and apparently he saw the whole scene.

“Go,” Two shouted, as Sasha put her foot down, wheels screeching, One's head bumping on the door as Five tried to make him stay still, him and his bleeding arm.

“Gentle millenial,” he screamed, all painful and fussy.

“Fasten your fucking seat belt, you” Sasha yelled as she sped up on the Avenue Foch.

“Idiot,” Two completed calmly. “To the Place de l'Etoile. He got fucking shot as I tried to gently talk with the man hiding his stick. And this idiot out there threatened him.”

“Three, path's clear,” Sasha's voice was strong, waiting for a reply.

“For the moment yes, staying here until Seven joins me,” he confirmed as she heard a car following them on the avenue.

“I'm not an idiot,” One protested, wiggling and Five had no other choice than slapping his head. “What was that for,” he exclaimed.

“Don't move or I'll be obliged to cut your arm off or take you to a hospital,” Five seemed stressed, as sweat drops appeared on her forehead, but she didn't lose cool.

Sasha drove, wheels screeching, the engine roaring under her control, One cursing along with Five and Two looking peacefully at the road. Three made a good job, she heard him faking a foreign delivering some stuff to the souvenir shop around there, the mafia men weren't pleased at all as they cursed him, making Two smile under her breath. But Sasha had no time to laugh, focused and tense: everything she loved in this job. She remembered perfectly the ways she had to take to reach the Quartier Latin – without Two's help – to reach Four, waiting for them on an old building. A grand finale, he said to her with a huge grin. Nothing good, absolutely nothing good.

“Where are you,” she heard Four's voice inside her head now, as she tried to avoid the cars in front of them and not get caught by the guys behind as Two was ready to shoot some of them.

“Not so fucking far from Notre Dame with dogs... Pigs behind me, three cars for the moment” she correcter herself, One's cursing distracting her from talking as Five scolded him endlessly. “And the mafia of course, five cars. Hope your plan is bomb or I'll have to speed my way to the 91 as soon as I can!”

“We'll be able to lose half of them, pigs and mafia, so be ready to drive fast: trust me!”

“Do I have a fucking other option,” she yelled, a little smirk on her face as she avoided another car while turning next to the BVH Marais, feeling alive and ready. “I guess I have to trust the Eastern guy!”

“Hey, lovey dovey Eastern people,” One interrupted as he laid on the backseat, trying his best to not move as Five tried to get the bullet out of his arm, “we're not on a love mission, you're not Three and Two, so fucking do your thing before I lose my fucking arm,” he yelled, Two rolled her eyes, before looking at One who just mouthed yes I know.

“Coming to you,” Sasha replied, ignoring One's whining, focused on the mission, and the grand finale.

She turned down the road after the bridge, arriving until one of the universities, this was the old building Four talked about, ready to be destroyed it seemed. She sped up, as the cops and the mafia were trying to catch them. She prayed for Four's plan to work out, truly. And if not, improvisation. She improvised many times, in a city she knew but here she felt like in a damn maze, and was still impressed by her ability to find her way out there. As she entered the large street next the building, she felt gas. No way. She sped up, fingers crossed, hoping they wouldn't get injured even more. A great noise, dirt all around, the building fell. Right on the road, right on the cars following them. And now, she couldn't tell how many of them followed them, but she had a moment to lose them, taking another path, and fitting in the flow of the cars. To Corbeil-Essonnes. The place police feared and French mafia too, because these people were something. And luckily, they loved the ones messing with Frenchies.

“Four, do you copy,” Sasha asked, as the adrenaline rush came down. On the road around Paris, she almost lost all of them. Almost. “Four, do you copy,” she insisted, as Two looked at her, intrigued. “Three, you're still in Paris?”

“Oui, mes beautés,” he replied as she could almost imagine Seven rolling his eyes as Three spoke.

“Four went mia,” Sasha said, focused on the road between One's groans.

“We leave the kid behind, he'll be fine,” she heard. One's voice. She tightened her grip around the steering wheel. No, she wouldn't lose her Eastern partner in crime. She gave him a dark look through the mirror before addressing Five.

“Five, if he says that again don't you fucking dare taking that bullet off his arm, and if you do I'll fucking kill him myself,” she threatened as Two chuckled under her breath, nodding as she looked at Eight, before turning her head back abruptly at the window.

“Don't worry Eight, we won't leave him again, as One wanted,” Seven said through the device.

“Again,” Sasha exclaimed, her voice full of reproach. “You're a sick team, and a sick man One!”

“Stop talking and drive,” he retorted, hissing between his teeth as Five still tried to get that bullet off his arm.

“We're not leaving until we find this problematic boy of ours,” Seven said and Sasha could hear Three's humming.

“You see these guys, you see them,” One shouted, moving all around,as a car sped up until reaching them and Two grabbed her gun and pulled the trigger. One less. Five just sighed.

“We need to lose them, you can do this,” Two asked and Eight looked at them, smirking.

“I absolutely can,” Sasha replied. Speeding up? She was born to do this.

~~~

Pretty quickly, Sasha managed to lose them all, with Two's help and her knowledge of the roads here – something Sasha missed truly to master this evasion properly. On the backseat, Five managed to get the bullet out of One's arm, not without him cursing for many, many long minutes as her and Two were trying to totally lose these guys. And they succeeded. And so did Seven and Three, finding Four.

“Good news,” Seven's voice almost blasted in everyone's ears, “Four's alive, his mic went off during the explosion.”

“Great,” One groaned, as Sasha sighed in relief. She grew close to all of them, but him and Five especially, and she dreaded the moment she would lose them under any circumstances. She already lost Piotr and Magda. “See, Eight? Nothing to be worried about with Four, he's a grown boy!”

“Yeah, thought you were too but you screamed during the whole thing as Five was trying to get that bullet out your arm,” she replied, driving calmly as Two just nodded. Eight made her laugh, sharp remarks, really nice to hear.

“... You have the right to remain silent,” he pursued and looked at Two to change the subject. “So, the usb key?”

“I have it, don't worry One.”

“I do worry, we never know with you,” he complained as Two rolled her eyes.

As Sasha drove towards the hotel they were staying in, Two and One discussed about the usb key, some details about what they needed there and how to get round the CIA's protections against intruders on their files. Three and One would certainly work on that.

They arrived in the hotel almost forty minutes before the others. Sasha was amazed by the calm of the man at the reception desk when he saw One's arm covered with blood, cursing as he held it. Two spoke to him in French, explaining some things Sasha had no idea about, as she looked at Five who just looked helplessly at her to escape One's ramblings. A sound, the doors of the elevator opened and two men with two massive guns came out, not even casting a look at the small group gathered around the desk. Two told them that this place was safe for any criminal, and that here having a gun was nothing abnormal, but seeing it with her own eyes, as she was accustomed to hide her weapons in Poland, made it look even more surreal than it actually was.

They had three rooms to share, Eight with Five, Two with Three and the rest of the group together. As soon as the group arrived to the room where the three men were about to stay, One decided to display all his electronic devices in order to begin to hack the whole key, with Two's knowledge. Five was still searching through the medical bag they carried in the car for some medicine for One, and trying to stitch his wound, as he typed on the keyboard. And Sasha, Eight, stood next to the large window from where she could see the parking lot, looking for the boys to arrive. And she saw them, her face lightened up instantly. Four was the first one to jump out the car, his hoodie on his blond locks and all covered with dust, she could see it distinctly from there. Seven carried his gun in one hand, not seeming to care too much about people who could see him – he must have noticed some men carrying weapons here – and Three had his sunglasses on, and walked confidently towards the entrance. Sasha told to the group that they arrived. A dozen of minutes later, Three opened the door, carrying a bag with him, followed by Seven and Four.

“Was it all worth it,” Seven asked as he put his gun on the bed that was his now.

“One says it is,” Two replied, looking over One's shoulder. “The man we got had many information, I worked with him in the CIA, and that key is our key to some true good information,” she continued, putting her hand on her hip.

“So what's the status of the research,” Three asked, standing next to Two.

“Either you fucking let me work this out, or you go fuck in the elevator or whatever,” One snapped, and Five put some medicine next to his left hand with a glass of water. She took a deep breath.

“Nasty move,” Seven commented. Four, who remained silent until now, leaning against the wall, only nodded with a hum.

“So sorry I'm not a romantic,” One ironically apologized, “but either you two move your asses and help me a bit with this or this mission will me meaningless!”

“I'm out,” Seven said, standing up to avoid the argument or the tension between the three of them.

“Coming with you,” Four stated, following him.

“I'm staying here Eight,” Five said to you, as you gave her a look. “Need to watch this bad boy right here,” she precised, pointing One's arm.

“Joining you guys,” Sasha finally said, Four still holding the door for her.

#ben hardy #four x reader #four x oc #four!ben #four billy #four ben hardy #6 underground ben hardy #6 underground #six underground ben hardy #six underground #ben hardy imagine #fanfiction

[detroit-become-fandom-trash]

Not for Sale (Traci!Connor)

Pairing: Traci!Connor x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of prostitution

Plot: A case. Prostitution. Y/N and Hank have to finde the young male who keeps lingering around in the town. Finding out the truth is way more intense than expected.

A/N: Kind of rushed. I will proof read it later!

Part 1 | Part 2

“What is it this time?”, you sighed and looked down at the file in your hand. “You and Hank will take over this case. We’ve been nice to that guy for a long time but some people and stores are growing impatient. You’ll find him and arrest him.”, the dark haired male told you before leaving your side to go back to his own work. Lazily, you opened the file and were met with a few blurry photos of a young man... at least from what you could see because damn, such low quality.

Name: unknown

Gender: male

Age: unknown (21-25 maybe)

Crimes: prostitution, theft, refusing orders from officers

You looked to the seat a few desks away and were not surpised to see that it was empty.

‘Well, now I gotta find him first.’, you thought, grabbed your jacket and left the station to look for Lieutenant Anderson.

“I feel sorry for him.”, you said while watching the landscape fly by.

“Who?”-”That guy. It’s not like people sell their bodys for fun. And I bet he doesn’t even get enough money because everyone would rather go to Eden Club to have some fun.” Hank furrowed his brows. “In what kind of world do we live? Humans would rather screw an android than finding true love. Back in my days we would go outside to meet real people.” You chuckled. Hank always sounded like he was a wise 100 year old man, you found it quite amusing.

Your gaze shifted to the streets again. Scanning the surroundings.

“Is that him?”, Hank asked and you follwed his gaze to, indeed, see the young man. “Drive by.”, you said,” We will park somewhere and then walk up to him. He will suspect something is off if we just park right next to him.” The grey haired male followed your orders while you kept looking at the young male through the rear mirror.

You quickly left the car and Hank followed you swiftly trying to stay as close as possible to you. Sometimes you would be a little to quick for him but who could blame him? He wasn’t the youngest anymore. The two of you approached the dark haired boy. If you were being honest he looked really cute. His face was flawless and you could see his well build chest because of how tight his tshirt was. He was talking to a rather old man who stared at him with lust pooling in his eyes.

“Wow that’s not pleasant to look at.”, Hank mumbled to you. Suddenly the old mans gaze shot into your direction and he looked somewhat nervous. He said something to the younger male before walking in the opposite direction as fast as possible. Not strange at all.

The boy watched the two of you approach. At first he smiled before he quickly caught that something about this was off. His eyes were filled with anxiety and something you couldn’t quite describe. You were only two meters away from him but he started to back away. To his misfortune, his back hit the wall of the rather dirty building behind him.

Now, you stood directly in front of him. He looked into your eyes and you felt how bad you wanted to just tell him to find a new place to... do what he needed to do but you had your orders and you needed the money too.

“You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”, You said while grabbing the handcuffs from your belt. Hank was about to grab the boys shoulders to turn him around so that you could put the handcuffs onto him but he shoved Hanks hands away, pressing himself harder against the wall. You felt a few people stare at the scene but didn’t care as long as nobody interuppted.

“No, please. You don’t unterstand!”, he begged, “Please, just give me five more days! I’ll have enough money to leave the country, I swear!”

“We can’t do that and you know it. Turn around before we have to force you.”, Hank explained but, again, the boy shoved Hanks hands away. You could tell your partner grew impatient so you layed a hand on his shoulder giving him a ‘calm-down’-look.

“What’s your name?”, you started and the tall male looked at you again.

“Please. Five more da-”-”I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”, you interrupted him.

“Connor.” You waited for him to give you his last name but nothing came so you just let him be.

“Okay, Connor, look. We will take you to the station and you will have to explain us a few things and then the judges will decide what will happen okay? If you follow us without us forcing you, it would make things a lot easier.”

“No, I can’t”

And with that he pushed you so hard you landed on the ground before storming off. Hank needed a second to process what had just happened before he chased after Connor. You got up as well and followed the two males in front of you.

You followed him into a dark alleyway. Dead end. “You have nowhere to go. Just come with us.”, Hank yelled while trying to catch his breath. Connor looked at his feet. His hair was a mess now and slightly curly. A feature you found quite endearing but you were in no position to admire him right now.

He walked towards the two of you before turning around again and sprinting forwards. “What the fuck?!”, muttered Hank as you watched the young man climb up the tall wall. You stormed after him. Grabbing his ankle trying to drag him down but he was strong and lifted his body up over the wall. You heard him land on the other side and sprinting off.

“Hank! Run around the building. You might catch him. I’ll follow him directly!”

The older man wanted to protest but you had already climbed over the top.

“This girl...”

You didn’t see Connor anymore but you could hear his steps so you followed the sound hoping you would catch him somewhere again.

And so you did. He had stumbled over some old wood, knocking him down pretty hard. The thud his body made as he hit the hard floor echoed through the maze of alleyways. He got up again but you managed to grab him, knocking him down again. You were above him, grabbed both his arms as he tried his best to get you off of him.

You were so eager to catch him you didn’t even notice the sobs and helpless cries that escaped his mouth. Only as you looked down at him you felt a bad feeling rise up in your chest.

His eyes were filled with tears and he was overall dirty from his previous fall. He had some minor scratches here and there on his face but nothing critical. He started so grow weaker and you pressed his hands against the hard ground. Then you noticed something. He was bleeing. But instead of a crimson red there was a prominent blue that covered his scratched open hands. Most of his fake skin was missing on his palms because of the fall you assumed.

“P-Please. I’m begging you! I don’t-... I can’t go back there, please!”

It felt like hundreds of daggers stabbed your heart. He was an android. Deviant.

You wanted to let him go so badly but you couldn’t. And even if you did, he would probably be killed by some of the soldiers roaming the streets of detroit.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”, you said but grabbed the handcuffs and placed them around his wrists. He tried your best to not tighten them too much since you didn’t want to hurt him further. He glared up at you and you felt your heart sink further and further down the river of guilt.

“Are you not listening?”. A sob. “I can’t go back there. They will destroy me. They will tear me apart piece by piece!”

You stood up, helping him up as well. You mind was going crazy. Not only because you had just run alot and didn’t even have time to catch your breath but because you felt like the worst person alive.

You sat the android down against a wall and he, to your surprise, didn’t even try to get up again. You sat in front of him, still trying to breath again. You looked at him but he quickly averted his gaze as tears were still spilling from his eyes.

“Where?”,you then spoke. He looked at you confused. “You said you can’t go back there. Where?” He remained silent for a long while before shifting a little.

“Eden Club.”

You looked at him again, shock was written all over your face but if you truly thought about it, it even made sense. How else would he be able to sell his body?

“I left with three other androids. I don’t know what happened to them, we got seperated. But I think they’re all dead or were sent back to Eden Club.”

“But why would you... do this?”

He looked at you with furrowed brows, somewhat offended.

“Fuck for money? Is that what you mean?”, he spat. He didn’t want empathy. He hated how humans couldn’t just say it how it was. He was fucking for money, that’s what it was.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you I just thought that-”-”It doesn’t matter.”

He sighed before answering your question. “I was trying to get enough money to take a plane to Europe.”-”Why Europe? Most androids flee to Canada.”

“Yeah, that’s why I didn’t want to go there. Besides, the police doesn’t really keep an eye out for androids at the airport. I could’ve been free. Guess it was stupid of me to think humans would ever let an android be happy.” He scoffed and turned his head away from you again.

“Jesus, fucking fucktard shitting fucks.”, breathed a sweaty Hank. “You got him... Christ... I can’t-.. breathe.”

“Hank! You okay?”, you aked and got up from your place on the dirty ground.

“Yeah... I guess. Just give me- JESUS CHRIST HE’S AN ANDROID!”

Connor looked to the ground and for a split second he looked... ashamed?

“Yes, I know. He’s an sex android who escaped Eden Club.”

“Well I guess this case is finished then... Let’s- Let’s get back to the station.”

You looked over your shoulder to see a few tears escape his eyes again. Hank didn’t seem so happy about completing this case either.

“Pull over!”, you demanded and both men looked at you confused.

“What? Why?”- “Just do it.”-”You better not throw up in my car!”

Lieutenant Anderson pulled over and looked at you confused.

“We can’t make him go back there.”, you muttered. “Well what are we supposed to do?”

“Connor?” He looked at you. “Do you still have the clothes from Eden Club with you?” He nodded carefully. “Good. My house, now!” Hank was confused but did as he was told.

~~~

“This won’t work.”, grumbled Hank as he leaned against the doorframe.

Connor didn’t seem so happy either. He was currently stripped down to his underwear with the big letters ‘Eden Club’ on them. You and Hank have been cleaning him for the past half hour, you had made his hair, put a new LED circle thing in and aided his bloody palms. “It will work. We will tell them the other androids took him with them and then left him behind as they realized he wasn’t deviant. He then got stolen and that’s why he’s been missing for so long. And then we will ask them to leave him to us because his software is demaged and stuff like that. The won’t want him anymore and will let him go with us!”

“Yeaah... That won’t work at all.”, Hank said. “It will! Just trust me!”

“I guess since that’s the only plan we should give it a go.”, interrupted Connor shrugging. Hank only shook his head.

The three of you got back into Hanks car and he drove to Eden Club.

It was almost dark out and a few people entered the tall building. And you did the same. It took a while to find any human-staff but as soon as the woman saw Connors form stand behind you she led you into a big office.

The office was dark but modern. Mostly black and dark grey furniture.

The man in the chair turned around like the villains in movies always would. His black hair was neatly combed back. He looked like a businessman but one out of a movie where the rich guys are alwy the bad ones.

“Oh what do I see there. Little Rk800 decided to show up again. Why do you bring him here?” His grey eyes pierced through the three of you.

And then you told him the story you had made up only an hour earlier. And to the surprise of you all, he seemed to belive it but there was a catch.

“He doesn’t look like his software is that damaged. He’ll start working here again.” Connor paniced slightly and you could sense it by the way he was shifting a lot where he was standing behind you.

You didn’t know what to say so Hank quickly started talking.

“You should know that right now he doesn’t even belong to you anymore. He’s  evidence so he belongs to the police. We could just bring him to cyberlife instead of you.”

The male in the chair chuckled.

“I can tell when someone bluffes. But even if you did, Cyberlife makes so much money with this Club. They would probably just give him to us again.” It didn’t surprise you one bit that Cyberlife and the Eden Club were working together or at least had some kind of partnership.

Your palms were sweaty and Hank was stressed too. Connors LED was a constant yellow and for a short second you could even see a flicker of red.

“You can leave now. Thanks for bringing my android back. You know where the exit is.”

Connor looked to the ground, a sad expression on his face. Hank carefully grabbed your shoulder, signalling you to leave but you wouldn’t just leave Connor here. You brought him here you should be able to get him out of here!

“How much?”

The man turned to you again. He was annoyed but you didn’t care. “What do you mean?”, he asked.

“How much do you want for that android?”

Connors head shot up and he looked at you with wide eyes. Were you trying to do what he thought you were doing?

“Oh, honey, he’s not for sale. Get going, you’re wasting your time.”

“I’ll pay whatever he’s worth.”

Suddenly the man seemed interested.

“Seven thousand.”

“W-What? He’s not that expesive! You’re lying to me.”, you yelped.

“We bought him for five thousand and officially he’s not for sale so I thought I’d raise the price a little.” Fucking bastard!

“He’s demaged!”- “Alright, six thousand.”

I looked back at Connor who looked at me with a sad smile. “It’s okay Y/N. Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”-”No Connor I’m not leaving you here.”

“Six thousand sounds great.” You watched Hank who already pulled out his wallet. “H-Hank?”, you asked and he smiled brightly at you. “But don’t think I’m paying all of it! Sharing is caring.” He then asked for a pen so he could write that fancy ass man a check. The man looked pissed but couldn’t complain because he made the deal.

“Now leave!”, he grumbled and the three of you quickly left the building. Hank handed Connor his jacket so that he didn’t have to walk outside almost completely naked.

“I-... I can’t believe you did that. I’ll make sure to pay that money back to you someday! I promise!” He smiled brightly at you and Hank before he wrapped his arms around your body for a tight hug. You felt your cheeks redden and wrapped your arms around his rather slim figure.

“Do you-.. Do you know where you’ll be staying?”, you sked as he released you and hugged Hank who was grumpy at first but hugged him anyway while smiling a little. “No not yet. I guess I’ll need to find somewhere safe so I won’t get caught.”

“You could stay at my house for a while.”, you offered kindly.

“Really? I mean, thanks a lot!”

You offered him a little smile.

#connor army #connor x reader #connor rk800 x reader #connor x reader dbh #connor x reader detroit become human #connor x reader detroit #bryan dechart #Markus dbh #hank anderson #Hankson #detroit become human #connor detroit #connor detroit become human #connor dbh #rk800 x reader #rk800 #rk900 #jesse williams #kara detroit become human #dbh #D:bh #Connor x reader D:bh #connor x reader fluff #connor x reader smut #connor x reader dbh smut #connor x reader smut detroit #this sucks #Android #Ralph dbh #Connor fanfic dbh

[foolsonice]

Phosphenes

written for @pliroyweek  2017 - Day 2, Confidence

Fandom: Yuri!!! on Ice Relationship: Yuri Plisetsky/Jean-Jacques Leroy Characters: Yuri Plisetsky, Jean-Jacques Leroy Wordcount: 5957 Rating: Teen and Up Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Kissing, Kissing, First Kiss, a story featuring:, attentive JJ, and, Confused Yuri

After the disaster of Vancouver Olympics, Yuri finds comfort in the arms of the one he proclaims to hate most.

Phosphenes (n.) The stars and colors you see when you rub your eyes

[continue reading on AO3]

 “And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.  (R. Dahl)

*

The shooting star which had risen high across the skating horizon last year came crashing down on earth with full force.

Cup of China: 4th place

NHK Trophy: 5th place

Vancouver Olympics: 6th place after the short program.

Could it get any worse?

 *

Yuri had to run, had to get away from the cheering crowds that weren’t cheering for him after ruining his free skate program with three falls in a row. If he could save the 6th place he’d be lucky; he didn’t think he could. Reporters surrounded him, cameras fired their flashes in his direction and somewhere he heard Yuri’s Angels crying. In one ear rang Lilia’s voice, in the other it was Yakov. He had to get away from them; from those idiots flirting with each other at the rink, too; from JJ who performed better than ever in his home country. With the first opportunity presenting itself, Yuri disappeared, ignoring the furious shouts trailing after him.

The ranking after the short program was:

1st- Jean-Jacques Leroy

2nd - Victor Nikiforov

3rd - Yuri Katsuki

If that was the final ranking after the free skate, Yuri didn’t know, and cared less.  

 *

The underground of Vancouver’s ice-dome was endless – a massive labyrinth of hallways with doors leading just to another hallway, with even more doors. Yuri ran into the opposite direction to where the dressing room assigned to the Russian athletes was located, winding his way far into the heart of the maze. As he ran, the voices and shouts became distant, nothing more than surreal flitters of murmur, until they subsided completely. All around him was eerily silent, but not in a good way. Yuri was so angry with himself that his ears were ringing, so disappointed that he was almost dizzy with it, leaning against the wall of the corridor to take a few breaths, before he continued to run.

Yuri tried the first door he came across – locked. The next one – too. It was the third which yielded to Yuri’s hand. There were lockers inside the room, a mirror, and a couple of stupid Canadian flags. Perhaps it should have startled him and let him overthink his choices but it didn’t. How so, when every spot in this god-damn country seemed to be decorated with red maple leaves on white ground these days. It was normal. And for that simple fact he hated it. All the more as the fucking maple leaf reminded him of JJ all the fucking time.

He sat down on the floor, as far away from the door as possible, his knees tucked under his chin, with the tiger plushy pressed tightly against his chest. Not even that one could offer any comfort today; tears streamed down his face no matter how often he tried to wipe them away with the end of his sleeves they kept coming; kept coming still when he contently rocked his body back and forth. Yuri still wore his skating costume, with the jumper of the Russian team over it, both not really warm. If he was trembling from the cold or if the sobs shook his body, Yuri couldn’t tell nor could he bring himself to care. He didn’t fight the tremors that shook him, either, having learned the hard way that fighting them only made it worse. He glowered at the door, fingers curled childlike into fists as frustrated tears streamed down his cheeks.

Sobs easily turned into helpless cries as time became an endless blur around him, spent in contemplation about his problems; they were countless, ranging from growing too fast, to overwhelming anxiety attacks which left him restless for days to see love all around him when he was so terribly lonely. In this moment, Yuri felt like dying, having not a glimpse of strength or inspiration left.

 *

Minutes had easily blended into half an hour without Yuri even bothering to control his emotions, something with which he had always struggled, although usually it were different emotions entirely: angry and rude, often outright hurtful towards those he loved to insult. The cheerful humming in the corridor went completely unnoticed by Yuri, drowned out by those heartbreaking sobs of helpless misery. Not a moment later, the door to the room where he was hiding flew open, and JJ burst through it with his fucking smile on his fucking face.

Gold, thought Yuri, before shouting at him with his tear-stricken voice. “Get out you asshole!”

Of all people, JJ – smiling, humming, good-humored JJ was the one he least wished to deal with right now. Phichit would leave him be after a while, so probably would Chris. About Victor he wasn’t so certain. Well, for JJ – needless to say, JJ didn’t leave him be. Instead JJ closed the door behind him, locking it from inside.

“Yura,” he said, trying to add something, which drowned in Yuri’s furious yells

“Get out!” Yuri shrieked, then glowered in JJ’s direction, throwing the tiger plushy he had been holding onto all the while right into JJ’s face. “Get the fuck out!”

JJ tried to catch Yuri’s gaze but Yuri refused to meet his eyes, looking away as soon as he noticed. Instead he buried his face in his hands again. To have his worst enemy witness his mental breakdown, JJ seeing him like this in all the helpless misery just made everything worse for Yuri: to admit that much – well, no, basically all of it: the Russian tiger image, being strong, fear- and reckless, was a carefully woven façade to protect the kitten he truly was proved yet another tremor, which shook Yuri’s body.

JJ didn’t move an inch, only bending down to lift the tiger up from the floor. “You may not have noticed it, Plisetsky, but you ended up in my changing room.”

Fuck! Yuri didn’t say that, contemplating his bad luck. Whatever could go wrong, actually did go wrong today.

JJ took advantage of Yuri’s momentary distraction and stepped forward, stopping right in front of him, shuffling his feet in a way Yuri had not seen him doing it, before he gave Yuri a smile and offered the plushy back.

Yuri looked startled at him, then glaring, snatching the tiger out of JJ’s hand, pressing it towards his chest where it had been before. “Get your stuff and leave me be!”

For a second there was silence, on both sides, each of them looking startled at the other in surprising insecurity. “Nobody should be alone in such a state,” JJ finally said, squatting down in front of Yuri so that they were on eye level. There was some truth in JJ’s words, Yuri figured, but didn’t say it. Agreeing to something JJ said was – still – simply beyond the imaginable, no matter how true it might be. Yet still, the sincerity in JJ’s word struck him almost physically. What game was JJ playing, he kept wondering, and more importantly: why did he play it? Was one victory for the night not enough?

“Remember last year, Yuri?” JJ asked rhetorically, shifting his body awkwardly until he was able to sit down beside Yuri, his back leaning against the row of lockers. Gods, he was so persistently annoying, Yuri thought, edging away from the arm, which touched his own. “When I performed so badly in both of my programs when it mattered most? If it hadn’t been for all those who still supported me afterwards, I wouldn’t be where I am now – again.”

“I’m not you,” Yuri sneered derisively, feeling envious. JJ had friends, had a loving family who always supported him, has had a wonderful fiancé at that time. Basically just everything Yuri lacked in his life, all he dreamt of during those lonely nights.

“This doesn’t mean you don’t need it,” stated JJ, placing his arm casually on Yuri’s shoulders in a way Yuri never would – or could. He envied that, too, wondering how JJ could be so quick, so casual in his touches, giving affection even to those that did not matter to him.

Yuri had always been desperate for attention, having it rubbed right into his face by JJ however was completely unnecessary. “You can’t be serious,” Yuri snapped in the process of forcing out yet another hidden insult, face grimacing just to keep pretending to be somebody he was not, now less than ever. “Your arrogance is even worse than I assumed when you truly think you’re the one to comfort me.” The words showed little effect as JJ’s arm remained exactly where it was, offering the comfort Yuri craved so badly without ever admitting it to anyone, least alone JJ.

JJ sighed, head bumping against the locker. “I could at least try?” he offered, strangely calm and not sounding arrogant at all so that Yuri was briefly tempted to turn his head to catch a glimpse of his face. He didn’t. “Who else is here?” JJ asked, rather to himself. “Victor? He probably has not even noticed that you are missing.”

Most obviously not, Yuri had to agree slightly hurt, with Victor having eyes only for that damn Katsudon. He knew it, had always hated it; hearing it from JJ only hurt all the more.

JJ went on. “Yakov?”

Yakov probably was missing Yuri, but Yuri was in no mood to deal with Yakov. Not today, tomorrow probably not either. “Hell no!” Yuri snapped, glaring into the emptiness of the room.

“See? Your options are limited, Plisetsky.”

For the first time, Yuri turned his head, looking at JJ’s face in bewilderment from under tear-stained lashes. “Don’t call me that,” Yuri said barely audible, shifting a few inches away from JJ, so that JJ arm slipped off Yuri’s shoulders.

JJ immediately moved after him. “Yura? Yuri? What would you prefer?” He sounded strangely sincere.

It was the first time they were talking with each other, like really talking with each other, Yuri thought, not throwing insults and teasing remarks at each other’s heads just to win the competition of this year’s greatest asshole.

“Both is okay,” Yuri sobbed, wiping the dampness from his face, nevertheless surprised how he had managed to choke out a word at all.

“It’s not only the ranking that bothers you,” JJ observed, and there was nothing Yuri could argue against that, because it was so painfully true that fresh tears ran down his cheeks again. His shoulders began to shake, guilt and misery shadowing his eye until JJ reached out again, carefully and with a good amount of hesitation as if he tried to touch a frightened dog.

Yuri nodded, allowing the strange yet comforting touch this time, too weak to fight the touch; too exhausted to pretend to be the greatest asshole alive; too tired to struggle against what felt wrong yet so incredibly right at the same time. Talking did help, Yuri had to agree, even if right now it meant talking to JJ.

What had he to lose, after having lost everything that was dear to him – and so much more tonight already?

Not much.

After that painful realization Yuri confessed everything, the words spilling from his tear swollen lips like a waterfall restrained by artificial walls way too long. He told JJ about not being able to sleep anymore, suffering from anxiety attacks late at night, that he had dreamt of all the failures, even of those which had not yet happened. “It is place eight, isn’t it?” he mumbled some when in between, never having heard of the final ranking down here. Unashamed he continued to speak about the problems he had with Katsuki and Victor being that special, gross way in front of him, told him how much he hated the world itself, about pain, and loss, and heart-break, his fingers twisting with the cords of JJ’s hoodie back and forth all the while he spoke. For the sake of completeness he didn’t even leave the struggle with his own sexuality out; being an underage minor, a famous underage minor who was openly gay was out of question in Russia. He wasn’t even entirely convinced if he was gay, or rather bisexual, or pansexual, and figured it actually did not quite matter. Not for himself at least. JJ, who was openly bisexual, agreed. By the time Yuri was done, he was a quivering mess in JJ’s embrace, streaks of tears staining JJ’s sweater.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri mumbled, observing the mess he had created.

“Sometimes we all need to remind ourselves that we are humans,” JJ answered, pulling Yuri close.

Realizing that JJ’s arm now somehow rested around his waist, Yuri tensed out of reflex. He hated people touching him. “Hush,” JJ said softly as if he was speaking to a frightened animal, interpreting Yuri’s thoughts correctly. Instead of letting go, he tightened the hold he had on Yuri with one arm, whilst he wiped the tears away with his other hand, using the sleeve of his jumper. “It’s fine. We all have these moments.”

Yuri doubted that Victor ever had these moments, doubted that Chris had them too, kept wondering all the more that JJ openly admitted to him that he had them occasionally. JJ, with all his breathtaking confidence, a mess plagued by anxiety? It was hard to imagine. Well, if Yuri was honest he truly had no idea who JJ was outside the rink, having never even bothered to talk to him when they met on some event after the competitions. All the years it had been a mutual agreement between them both.

Tentatively, JJ reached out. “May I?” he inquired, his voice sounding strangely insecure. His fingertips brushed against Yuri’s back, touching him in a way that made him shiver.

‘Damn it, why did something so wrong feel so incredibly right?’ Yuri asked himself, then glared at JJ. He simply had to, even if it did not quite match how he felt just before he nodded, lowering his eyes; JJ wasn’t going to eat him alive, he kept telling himself, nor was he playing with him, and that realization came as a surprise.  

Yuri didn’t speak after that, neither did JJ. Perhaps JJ spoke, but not with words. Yet another surprise for Yuri:  he hadn’t thought JJ was capable of shutting up for even a minute. Apparently he was.

JJ’s fingers trailed along Yuri’s spine, up and down, drawing straight lines or circling motions until Yuri began to relax visibly to the touch. What JJ did made him think of was his grandfather, thousands of miles away,  who never grew tired to hold him just for comfort, touched him in just the same way as JJ did right now. Yuri sniffed, memories mingling with the present, making everything worse. Fuck, what he would give to have his grandpa around now. The tremor came with no warning, shaking him to the core despite the soothing motions of JJ’s hand. He loved his grandfather, had always loved and cherished him, and damn it, he terribly missed him. In fact, Yuri always missed him, yet now more than ever. Unsurprisingly, JJ stopped, questioningly looking at Yuri with his impressive eyes – a dark blue, appearing to be almost black from the weird angle Yuri looked back at him, holding his gaze. Tiny streaks of silver disrupted the monotony, just as the silver streams of moonlight pierce through the starless night. They were beautiful, Yuri realized, and with that his own eyes grew wide.

“I’m sorry,” JJ mumbled, “do you wish me to stop?”

Yuri blinked in confusion, mostly because of his own weird thoughts, then glanced at JJ again just before he shook his head, face glowing red from embarrassment. He didn’t want JJ to stop; saying so was close to the impossible, and therefore Yuri was grateful that his gesture was encouragement enough for JJ to continue.

Regaining control of himself after tonight’s disaster was hard for Yuri. It took a good while, and he was convinced his sobs would have never ceased without JJ being around, without being comforted by the soothing touches and the warmth emanating from JJ’s body.

As odd as it might be, and as much as he hated to admit it, for once JJ’s voice did exactly the contrary to what it usually did – it didn’t spark an argument, no, it didn’t make him hiss like an angered cat. Instead it soothed Yuri, bone-deep and persistently, although he did not understand a single word of what JJ said. JJ talked in his strongly accented French to him, susurrating whispers against the crown of his head, strangely beautiful. It lured Yuri’s mind into a world of peace. Maybe it was for the better he did not understand it, because usually only nonsense came out of JJ’s mouth, or subtle insults. Yuri had to keep telling that to himself each time the gentle touches felt too intense, just to keep his pretense alive. There had not been an insult, not a single one this day, and Yuri knew he perhaps should revise his opinion on JJ.

Holding his breath, trying not to let JJ hear how fast his heart was beating, Yuri feigned disinterest, although his thoughts swirled in his mind like snowflakes through the frosty night. But he did not move, nor did he flinch, not even when JJ’s fingers flattened and ran over his golden hair, down his ears and neck, withdrawing only to repeat what he was doing. It felt good, it felt incredibly good, so good that Yuri’s eyes closed in the process of it.

Eventually, Yuri’s sobs trailed away to normal crying against JJ’s shoulder, and even that ceased and he fell completely silent. Until then, he had not realized how cold he was, fingers already stiff, being so occupied to fight his internal misery and his conflicting thoughts. It was cold in the room, no wonder he was freezing, basically wearing nothing.

“You’re shivering,” commented JJ, leaning away from the lockers to free himself from the zipped hoodie he was wearing, blood red with an ugly white maple leaf stitched on it right over JJ’s heart. A moment later, the hoodie was placed around Yuri’s shoulders, with JJ’s scarf around Yuri’s neck to follow. Why he let it happen, Yuri couldn’t say, mesmerized to discover yet another new side of JJ, burying his nose deep in the fabric of the scarf, letting go of the breath he was holding all the while.

Why he even allowed JJ to move his body until he was sitting on JJ’s thighs, Yuri could not explain, either, but with ease JJ repositioned him. “All the hoodies will not help if the floor is cold,” commented JJ absently, focusing to shift Yuri’s lithe body in his lap until both seemed comfortable with the position.

“True,” Yuri muttered, half glaring at JJ for moments, unsure about what else to do, before he decided to settle against JJ shoulder again. It had felt okay-ish; with okay-ish being Yuri’s way of saying he liked it. Not that he would ever say so aloud. No. When he stopped to wriggle his body until he was comfortable enough, JJ’s hands resumed what they did earlier.

Yuri hated what JJ did, truly.

No – not really. He wasn’t good at lying.

That it felt good Yuri hated all the more, he thought to himself.

He wasn’t good at thinking, either: not when such conflicting thoughts made his head spin like a Ferris wheel, with bursts of colors dancing across his closed lids as Auroras dance across the northern sky as JJ kissed the crown of his head.

A day ago Yuri wished to wrap his hands around JJ’s throat and watch the life drain out of his eyes.

And now? Rather not.

Yuri felt conflicted. It was so weird, and Yuri knew it was weird, but he just couldn’t help it?

It somehow felt unnatural to pretend to be unmoved by such kindness, even if it meant to acknowledge the fact that it was JJ’s.

He sighed, burying his face deeper in JJ’s shoulder, his nose still hidden in the scarf which smelled so intensely of JJ’s perfume, pretending that his left arm wasn’t resting on JJ’s back. Admitting it would mean to move it, and so Yuri didn’t. Actually neither of them moved for long moments, until Yuri’s occasional sobs turned into rare hiccups as he relaxed under JJ’s hand, which persistently stroked his golden curls.

With a sonorous sigh of exhaustion, Yuri closed his eyes again. Everything JJ did was for pure comfort he kept telling himself, kept telling even as his free arm sneaked around JJ’s waist to complete the perfect embrace. For once, JJ had the dignity to remain silent, although Yuri would give everything to be able to read JJ’s thoughts right then.

Instead of speaking, JJ returned to place kisses to Yuri’s head just as he had done before, with the little difference that now his lips began to wander; from the crown of Yuri’s head towards the side, close to his ear, way too close to his ear.

For comfort.

The way JJ breathed, soft and comforting, completely at ease with everything he did, warm air hushing along his skin made Yuri shiver; the way JJ spoke to him in those words Yuri didn’t understand but came to love nevertheless; the way his fingers wiped another stray tear from his burning cheek.

For comfort, because I’m freezing, because I am an emotional mess.

“Why?” The word was out before Yuri knew it, and in the process of being awe-struck of having found his voice back somehow, he looked up just in the moment as JJ decided to move his face down. Their mouths, both half opened in surprise, brushed together for a split second, noses nudging due to the awkward angle – and then the moment was gone, leaving Yuri’s mind flying in a way he had never felt before.

The contact had not lasted more than a split second, a quick and awkward press of mouths, entirely accidently that is. Still Yuri felt the taste of JJ’s lips linger, recalled the dampness he had felt.

They stared at each other in bewilderment, equally flustered, with eyes wide and mouths hanging open, both being at a loss of what to say.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” JJ said at last, watching Yuri closely.

It appeared to Yuri as if JJ tried to decipher the look on his face, hoping he didn’t manage with all that was dear to him. Yuri, arms still tangled around JJ’s body even tried to don his most annoying face. For nothing, as he soon found out.

JJ quirked an eye-brow at him, and Yuri saw how JJ’s face transformed. “Oh good lord. Boy, you liked that.” JJ sounded genuinely surprised, smiling a smile that was so unlike everything Yuri had ever seen on JJ’s face. It was neither arrogant nor cocky, it was honest – and incredibly beautiful.

“No,” Yuri stated out of reflex even if he didn’t feel like it, the words emanating his lie. He was deduced easily, he knew, as JJ’s smile only grew. Embarrassment crept up Yuri’s head; he had to look away.

Unfortunately, the vagueness of his answer only seemed to spark further interest on JJ’s side. “Want me to do it again?” JJ asked in that voice that was so typical for him, fingers sweeping across Yuri’s burning cheek, before they came below Yuri’s chin, lifting Yuri’s head until their eyes met.

On any other occasion, Yuri would have batted JJ’s hand away. “No,” repeated Yuri, running a shaking hand through his golden hair as he always did when being nervous.

Then Yuri fell silent, wondering why he always had to fight, even when he did not feel like fighting. Because hell, JJ had offered the comfort he so desperately needed, his lips against his own had made him feel as good as he hadn’t felt in months. Still caught in his inner conflict, Yuri swallowed, blinking at JJ in confusion. What was he supposed to do? At the age of 16 Yuri was still a virgin in every imaginable way.

“Don’t tell anyone!” Yuri couldn’t put into words just how much he wanted JJ to do it again, something akin to ‘properly’ following under his breath. It was insane, really; just thinking about it again made his stomach go squirmy, and he was glad that this time JJ didn’t answer him, at least not in his ordinary way.

Without hesitation JJ leant forward and closed the gap between their faces, his mouth pressing against Yuri’s, careful at first, perhaps too careful in the fear to scare Yuri away. When Yuri didn’t flinch, JJ opened his mouth just a little bit to experimentally lick along Yuri’s lip, and good gracious! That made Yuri squirm, in a good sort of ways. Despite that it felt – well, strange – Yuri didn’t back out, rather wondered what he was supposed to do with his own mouth. He had no idea, not quite at least, so he simply mimicked JJ’s movements, opening his mouth to him so insecurely that he hated himself for it. The angle was a weird one, true enough, still, damn it! It felt good. Incredibly good. As Yuri parted his lips further, JJ’s fingers trailed from his collar-bone along his throat, until Yuri’s head tipped backwards, resulting in an angle of their faces that was by far more comfortable.

Fuck! The intensity of their tongues touching for a second made Yuri almost jump in JJ’s lap, withdrawing his mouth accidently.

“You liked that?” JJ asked, holding Yuri’s gaze.

It was so fucking intense that Yuri felt as if his entire body was set on fire.

Yuri nodded, shifting in JJ’s lap until he straddled him and they were truly face to face. Though he hoped to radiate confidence instead of nervousness he didn’t, biting his lower lip as he always did when nervous.

“You liked it that much?” JJ’s voice was humorous, but not mocking as probably Yuri had it expected to be. JJ was beautiful, had always been beautiful in his annoying arrogance, yet to Yuri it appeared as if he truly saw him in an entirely different light. He was even more beautiful, when he dared to look closely, losing himself in the starry night JJ’s eyes resembled.

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid, Yuri.” (*)

It was so painfully true! And more importantly, it was a quote his grandfather often used, hearing it from JJ was yet another surprise. Yuri never knew, never suspected that JJ could hold an interest in classic Russian literature.

Again, Yuri found himself nodding, then smiled, for the first time today. Faintly, yes, but it was unmistakably there. “You don’t seem surprised? By me… liking it?” he asked, finding his voice again, still being short of breath.

“I am, Yura,” JJ confessed, lifting a hand to Yuri’s face, adding “and I feel honored.” JJ’s eyes held Yuri’s own, almost fiercely, and it provoked a sensation that stole through Yuri so unlike everything he had ever felt; it left him strangely vulnerable – and aroused.

“Shut up,” Yuri said, taking the initiative this time by arching his back until their lips were upon each other again. JJ’s hands wandered down to the small of Yuri’s back, pulling him close against him as carefully as if he was made out of porcelain.

“Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I can’t be handled like a man.” The words sounded strange to Yuri’s ears. Better not to talk, then, he decided before he sucked experimentally at JJ’s lower lip, wondering from where that weird outburst had come from. He had zero experience with kissing, being quite soon at a loss of what to do.

“Oh boy,” JJ sighed against Yuri’s lips, fingers now tangled in Yuri’s hair, then added, chuckling, “just let me make up for my mistake.” For once, Yuri was okay to deal with a touch of JJ’s usual cockiness, because to see his eyes spark in excitement was exorbitantly beautiful.  

When JJ caught Yuri’s face between his hands, his mouth upon Yuri’s own, Yuri nearly fell backwards from the intensity of how JJ kissed him, then; hard and rough, and full of unspoken promises, in a way Yuri had never imagined it in his wildest dreams, just before he slowed down a bit, giving Yuri the time to catch his breath. It felt good; it actually was good, so good that his eyes closed, although Yuri might have killed if anybody said he would find solace in JJ’s arms.

A broken moan echoed from Yuri’s mouth as JJ let his tongue slide against Yuri’s lips before their mouths moved against each other and Yuri’s hands sneaked around JJ’s neck in a fit of boldness, then into JJ’s hair. The longer strands felt soft between his fingers, but it was rather the short undercut JJ had that piqued Yuri’s interest; experimentally he brushed his fingers back and forth against the razor-sharp edge, smiling when quite obviously JJ reacted to his touch. For Yuri it was all – or nothing. When he hated, it was with every fiber of his being, and he wondered if it was the same with love. He wished to be protected, wished for somebody who would take care of him, and make him happy, erasing the loneliness of his life full of troubles. But JJ? He just didn’t know, and he wished he wouldn’t be thinking at all.

Fucking weirdo.

The thoughts were wiped from Yuri’s mind when JJ’s hands twine with Yuri’s own, still splayed somewhere against the back of JJ’s head; it was sensual, and hot, and – so affectionate? Arousing all the more. Now, Yuri couldn’t think. Could barely breathe as JJ devoured his mouth so obscenely, just the way Victor always did with Katsuki. He hated to see that, and yet, and yet… he kissed JJ just the same way, pressing his body against him. For goodness sake, perhaps he should bring himself to care if JJ noticed what was going on with his body – most likely JJ did, as hardly a sheet of paper fit between them, however, Yuri could not be bothered as little streaks of color, bright pink and green and orange, danced across his eyelids. Was this what it felt like to let down your last defenses? To trust somebody? Yuri mused instead, letting his tongue explore JJ’s mouth, much to JJ’s vocal delight.

They kissed for a little while longer before Yuri pulled back slightly, his lips and cheeks flushed red, both from arousal and embarrassment. He couldn’t quite believe that JJ had kissed him, that he had kissed JJ back – that he had actually initiated it, and now was straddling him.

“Hold me?” asked Yuri, torn between what he wanted. “Please?” He was quite certain that JJ had never even come close to hear that word from him; he was even more certain that without his recent failure they’d still go about their normal business, at best ignoring each other – which would be a pity, Yuri admitted. In the process of his thoughts, Yuri curled himself up in JJ’s lap again, head falling against his shoulder just as it had been before. Still it was different with JJ’s hands running up and down his sides, with his own fingers ghosting against the skin which wasn’t covered by JJ’s costume; with Yuri glancing upwards every now and then, begging for a kiss in silence.

“I need to go,” Yuri said after a while, apologetic to disturb the peaceful silence. He had to, being afraid to make everything worse with Yakov by hiding much longer. Truth was: he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to let go of JJ, not at all, because for the first time this year he felt truly at peace with himself and the world.

“I know,” sighed JJ, carding both hands through Yuri’s hair a last time before he let go of Yuri. As much as he did not want to, Yuri entangled himself from JJ and stood up, legs stiff. Almost shyly he bent down again to kiss JJ on his lips, wondering if that was it now, before he turned around and made for the door. There was nothing Yuri hated more than goodbyes; despite his young age he had had his fair share already.

“Yura,” JJ said, waiting for Yuri to turn around again, adding when Yuri did, “my scarf. And my hoodie. I doubt you want to wear it in public when it’s so obvious to whom it belongs.”

“Oh.” Yuri sounded surprised. Actually he was surprised, because a couple of hours ago he had thought JJ would let him waltz out into the crowd like this for the simple fact to humiliate him. He was glad he was proven wrong, because rumor was something that thrived in any closed environment, especially when there was, like here, the slightest bit of truth to it. He didn’t need the gossip as a cherry on top of the cake of failure.

Yuri shrugged out of the jacket, walking back towards where JJ still sat on the floor, smiling and looking up at him. “Thank you,” Yuri said, meaning it in every way the words could be interpreted, handing the hoodie back to JJ whilst the scarf was still wrapped around his neck.

“The scarf .. may I keep it?” Yuri asked, hands twitching at his sides.

JJ’s eyes went wide, Yuri observed, regretting he had asked, and then JJ smiled all the more, “Yeah, sure. Keep it as long as you want.”

There was silence with both of them staring at the other yet again, not knowing what to say. Apparently JJ wasn’t good at such things either, Yuri noticed, genuinely surprised. JJ being at a loss of what to say was not something he had ever thought to witness, and when a day ago he would have rubbed his hands in glee, right now, he did not.

“Do you want me to come over later?” asked JJ after a pause stretching too long to be casual. He tried to sound as calm as possible, when it was obvious to Yuri that he wasn’t at all, something working behind those astonishingly blue eyes.

‘Yes, please. I don’t want to be alone.’ Yuri didn’t say that. “No.” It was one of those special no’s Yuri was infamous for, those translating to “Yeah, go ahead. But don’t tell anyone.”

“Are you staying at the Olympic Village, tiger?”

He should probably be annoyed about the tiger, at least pretend to be annoyed. It was inconsiderate. Instead, and despite the stupid anxiety washing over him, Yuri found himself looking forward to meeting with JJ again later.

“Yeah,” Yuri said, blinking, “complex C, room 304. After 9 pm.” That would leave him enough time to deal with Yakov.

“’See you, then,” JJ said, smiling that flawless, incredibly beautiful smile of his.

Without looking back once more, Yuri opened the door and peeked outside, making sure nobody saw him before he hushed out the room, JJ’s scarf wrapped around his neck like a trophy, tiger plushy in his hand.

‘Sometimes, losing does mean to win,’ Yuri thought as he went back from where he came, rubbing his eyes until sparks of colors seemed to explode behind his eyelids the same way it had been when he had kissed JJ.

And then Yuri smiled. Properly this time.

*

NOTES:  0. written for the pliroyweek on tumblr, day 2 "self-confidence" - thx @the mods for organizing this event :) 1. I wrote this for the simple reason because I need more attentive JJ in my life and I am a self-indulgent writer + a sucker for h/c - bear with me. 2. The idea didn't leave me for an entire week. 3. I have no regrets. 4. Also: Yuri in maple sweaters is my kink. 5. No regrets for that, either.  6. I just thought that quote of R. Dahl perfectly fitted this scene - that's why it is here. 7. In regard to (*), "Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid", which is a direct quote from Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Seriously, I never saw JJ quoting Dostoyevsky coming. NEVER. Yet it fits so well? And the more I think about it, the more quotes I come up with that fit for JJurio 8. Thx to my beta reader @avengercastiel  9. Thx for all the gorgeous fanart on twitter that cheered me up. 10. Also: THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT I RECEIVED ON TWITTER <3. You probably know who you are 11. Feedback would be lovely and totally awesome <3

#pliroyweek2017 #pliroy #jean jacques leroy #yuri plisetsky #pliroyweek #my writing #well .. it's SOON 2/3 .. and i have to post it today bc i think i won't be home tomorrow #basically at all

[5hfanfiction]

Falling Over - Chapter 37

* flashback * “So… I guess you’re my last goodbye then?” Camila smiles softly at the now light haired boy who’s adjusting a camera on a stand aimed towards her bed. He’s in charge of the tech stuff while Lauren and Vero are down talking to Randa management about the time period they think necessary.

Zayn doesn’t reply for a moment, he’s bent down finishing the camera and seems to have not even heard her, but then he finally turns around and she knows what the look on his face means. Because she’s never seen a less than smug and happy Zayn Malik so she assumes this must be it.

“Mila,” he starts with a glance at her eyes before moving over to the bed and perching on the edge, gesturing for her to do the same. “I umm… I told them to go down because I kind of wanted to talk to you,” he confesses and plays with the sheets on the bed beneath his fingers.

“I’m glad you did because I wanted the same,” she smiles trying to calm how nervous the boy looks. “You can go first though because it seems more pressing?”

“Okay well I don’t really know where to start,” he begins with a shaky breath and Camila won’t lie and say she isn’t nervous by how nervous he is because she is. “I wanted to say thank you. For everything you’ve done for Lauren I mean, she’s really… I’ve never seen her happy, you know? Like she’s always been so worried about every single little thing from her current client to the type of detergent she uses, she’s a naturally stressed out person.

"And sure, she still worries about her current client but now it’s more because she’s in love with you. I know you feel like you’re torturing her but I promise you she wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world. You’re both so much better now with each other than before. It’s something in your aura too, you know? It’s hard to explain to someone without the sense but you’re just… brighter?” he offers with a shrug and a small smile that isn’t anything like his usual teasing ones and makes Camila smile back for a whole new reason than it usually does.

“And umm, I also wanted to just say that if anything goes wrong- I mean, not that it will, I’m almost positive and so is Vero which is good because she’s usually right about the future if you catch my drift, but that’s- I mean, what I’m trying and failing to say is that I’m going to miss you for however long you’re gone,” he finally says and connects eyes with the other girl to try to show that he’s sincere, since he’s not really used to having to express any feelings, especially to one of his best friends who he thinks might be gone for longer than he’d like.

“I’m going to miss you too,” Camila says, trying not to cry because Zayn is so good at keeping his cool but not being able to keep a few tears from slipping through. “I wanted to say thank you too but not for… just for being there for her and I wanted to make sure you’d still be there? You know if anything happens I just…”

“I will,” he promises quietly and takes them both by surprise reaching out to take hold of her hand and squeezing softly. “I’m not saying that you’re going to be gone for long, but if anything… I’ll be with her.”

She takes the next step. Well kind of only because of him though.

Camila has known Zayn for a few months now, which may not seem like a lot, and to her it didn’t at first, but thinking back now he’s been there for her no matter what, even if it is lingering in the background and making fun of her thoughts.

He’s been a solid part of her life ever since she heard him call Lauren’s name in the cafeteria and was momentarily jealous that the attractive boy was involved with her Lauren.

She knows Zayn though at this point. The cocky but not in a bad way, goofy when nobody is watching, and caring but not in the open guy. And she knows that he isn’t one to show emotion easily, probably in the same way that Lauren isn’t, they’ve both been through so much in their heads that it must be hard to be comfortable expressing anything.

So when she sees that he’s crying she can’t not hug him.

She does, hug him for a while that is. He hugs her back and it kind of reminds her of the time he carried her out of that mirror maze and held her until she was okay again. Thinking back on how similar the situation is makes her more upset because this ghost has been even more of a constant than him (obviously) but it’s still the biggest obstacle she faces.

But it also reminds her that she still has the same people in her corner. And they’re finally going to do something about it, even if it hurts a little bit.

“We should umm,” Zayn starts and pulls away from her embrace slightly to rub at his eyes. “We should probably finish this before they come back up,” he explains and pulls back completely and scratches his scalp eyeing her nervously once again, but now for a whole different reason.

“Oh Zayn, are you nervous that I’m going to tell the girls that you were crying?” Camila smiles brightly with a dopey grin as she teases him.

“Fuck off,” he laughs and shoves her hand lightly away from where she’d reached to nudge his shoulder. “They’ll never believe you if you don’t have proof.”

“I suppose you’re right,” se ponders in faux thought for a moment before grinning again. “But can you tell me the most embarrassing thoughts you’ve heard, I’ve alwys wanted to ask you but like… I figured you wouldn’t-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn interrupts with a grin as he leans forward to grab another camera lined up to go against the far wall. “I guess you deserve some comedy before the torture,” he continues to tease back.

“Ha ha, every funny,” she deadpans and he chuckles softly before moving over to start finishing set up. “Now, work and talk, we only got a few minutes.” * flashback off *

They’re here now though, and Camila is asleep. She has been for almost an hour.

There’s nothing to happen really. Since they’re in the Randa, there’s nothing other than a bed, some cameras, and the cement walls. And the glass window of course, the one that separates Vero, Zayn, and Lauren from the room.

That’s where the first crack is.

The three standing guard have decided to sleep in shifts since eyes must remain on Camila at all times, but since it’s more than necessary to notice everything about the girl sleeping across from them, instead of one person staying awake and two sleeping, two are awake and one is napping.

Currently, Vero is asleep since Lauren insisted she wouldn’t be able to sleep and Zayn insisted that the oldest girl had just had a long flight and should use some time to recover.

“So do you know how long this usually takes?” Lauren asks in attempt to calm her nerves even though she knows the answer already.

“Lo, you know it’s impossible to tell before it happens,” he reassures, reading the nerves on the other girl’s mind though and racking his brain for something to talk about that can change the topic. “You talk to Vero at all about her time overseas?” he asks after he gives Lauren a minute to calm herself from his previous answer.

“Yeah I did for a few, she actually ended up helping on three cases, all successful in getting the haunters out, two were houses, one was a 46 year old woman Marissa,” Lauren answers, not tearing her eyes from a sleeping Camila and struggling to give Zayn a good answer because of her drawn focus.

Zayn in turn sighs because really what is he supposed to do? He doesn’t want Lauren so stressed but it probably is best if she’s completely focused on Camila. Even if it means a few days or a few hours of her being at maximum stress, it’ll lead to less upset in the future if her head is fully invested in the case.

“I talked to Chord again last week,” Zayn starts after a moment of silence filled with her thoughts in both of their heads. He could go back to fidgeting with the computer monitors on the other side of him but he figures that getting Lauren’s mind off of Camila (well as much as he can) is better right now. “He was upset to hear about Camila not doing too well, but he also agreed that since she’s showing so much strength now, that means good things for the future in this case. He was the same and it ended up working in our favor,” Zayn explain. He knows Lauren already knows all of this, but he also knows that she just needs someone to be talking and her mind eases up a little bit. He just wants to help get her mind off of it.

That’s when the crack happens. It’s bulletproof glass.

Zayn almost doesn’t notice it because Lauren’s thoughts are invading his head as much as he wants to avoid eavesdropping, however the room is so silent that he’s able to detect the small sound.

Both eyes snap up to the glass that’s separating them from Camila. Well more like down to it since they’ve been so focused on Camila who’s beyond the glass.

It’s in the bottom right hand corner, right in front of where Lauren is sitting and it’s not big, but it’s big enough for them to notice it. Camila is beyond the glass and has shifted to lie flat on her back. Which had actually happened before the glass started to split but the two hadn’t thought anything of it.

Lauren’s on her feet first, she doesn’t exactly move because she knows that she has to wait, but she’s ready to barge down the door separating them as soon as she needs to.

“Vero,” Zayn snaps not taking his eyes off of the creaking glass that’s slowly cracking more as the seconds pass. “Veronica wake the fuck up,” he snaps again, briefly flicking his eyes over to her to see the girl immediately hop up. People with the gift have to train themselves to be light sleepers.

“What’s up? What is it what hap-”

“The glass is split, we just need to be ready now,” he answers and tries not to listen to how panicked Lauren is.

“Okay well this could mean nothing. It could just be the first stage taking place, we don’t need to jump to any conclusions here okay Lauren?” Vero explains carefully eyeing the nervous girl who’s posed for action. “So just keep your eyes peeled,” she continues, uneasy herself now though when she notices the crack is slowly growing. Laurn’s eyes are locked on Camila though, waiting for any little thing to suggest something’s going wrong.

Nobody speaks for a few seconds, Vero focusing on the crack, Lauren focusing on Camila, and Zayn focusing on Lauren.

Now there’s three types of takeovers that happen at this point.

The first is the worst, and it almost always leads to the worst recoveries. It takes days to weeks and it’s the reason these rooms can be booked for unknown amounts of times. In this takeover the ghost takes it’s time. It gets acquainted with the body and slowly begins to infiltrate whenever it gets the chance. It weakens the victim to a point that he or she can not possibly defend themselves when the time to fight back comes.

Vero had a patient like this in Europe. It was Marissa, the 46 year old who had been haunted actively since she was in her early thirties. Vero wasn’t the head of the case, but she was the right hand woman, and she had to experience the gruesomeness that was watching Marissa be basically tortured right in front of her.

It had taken three weeks for the ghost to finally get into Marissa’s head fully, and once it did it was quick in feeding on her body and mind, but Vero and her team were quicker and luckily they were able to pull the ghost out before there was nothing left of the older woman. She was in a coma for months to follow up, two to be exact, but they didn’t doubt her survival once, she just needed the necessary rest that was recovery.

The second type of takeover is easier to stop but harder to recover from. The lead up is painful, but not the actual takeover. That, the takeover, is all at once. It’s quick, and painful to the victim, but in the long run better because the helper is able to knock the ghost back into it’s own dimension before it fully settles. Since it’s shooting all of it’s power, much like an explosion of it into the victim at once, it’s more likely to take out the him or her for a longer time, but it’s also more likely to take a few moments once it’s in and that leaves the gap.

Zayn had a patient like this in Chord. It was scary. All of that power being shot into someone at once is a scary sight no doubt, but with little difficulty Zayn and his partner at the time were able to eliminate the threat as soon as possible.

Chord’s story has been stated before, but he survived and is better than ever now. Despite a long resting period of multiple months, the worst of it was beforehand.

The third type of takeover is like the second type gone worst case scenario. It’s when the ghost has too much power for the victim to successfully take in. Not that it’s successful to take in the energy, but the worst it usually does is knock out the victim, meaning the doctors can work on the body quickly and keep the person alive. This is when there isn’t a chance to keep them alive because the energy surge killed them itself.

Lauren had a patient like this in highschool with one of her teachers.

And so it happens like this.

“Zayn watch the monitors for a closer look,” Vero demands, knowing since they both have emotional attachment she’s going to have to take some charge here. “Lauren don’t freak out, she’s fine right now, right? You know what you’re doing, we know what we’re doing, no need to panic.”

“Yeah Lo, plus you know Mila better than anyone, that girl’s pretty tough for someone so scrawny,” Zayn adds teasingly, trying to lighten the mood and smiling shortly when Lauren’s thoughts momentarily shift to positive ones.

They go back to negative when the other side of the glass cracks.

All eyes fall onto it as the splitting of glass fills the now silent room, both lines slowly going up towards the middle of the glass pane.

“Lo-” Zayn begins but the top corner cracks at the sound of his voice and lets out a splintering screech much louder than the others, moving a little quicker towards the center of the pane to catch up to the other two.

Lauren’s eyes look beyond the glass to see what she expected, and even though it was expected it doesn’t make it any less painful to see Camila’s body lifting. It’s not quick at all. You can just tell by the way her arms are hanging slightly that she isn’t still on it which is reassuring because nothing will happen right this second, but this minute? Maybe.

“Lauren,” Zayn says quietly and as if reading his mind she slowly makes her way over to the connecting door. All three of them knew from experience that the leading healer should be in the room when something like this happens because most likely they’re about to find out what type of takeover it will be.

So Lauren approaches the foot of the bed and thinks about her classes as she does. She reflects on wondering what it would feel like, what this would feel like. Knowing that this person’s life is in your hands, not knowing what’s going to happen next, never being able to tell how close you are to the end of this torturous road.

She only allows herself a second to think about the fact that it’s Camila.

The fourth crack in the final corner is the loudest, and the line shoots quickly towards the middle.

She would’ve given herself more time because once she starts thinking about Camila she never stops, but the cracking takes her mind back to where it’s supposed to be right on time for her to turn and see the glass shatter into bits in an explosive manner, shooting shards of glass all over and around the room.

She doesn’t take cover though, neither do Zayn or Vero, they’re quick to join Lauren in running for the body slowly lifting off of the bed, in a similar manner to the glass slowly cracking towards the middle from all corners.

There’s a second of fear, none of them being able to reach them, her shooting up unexpectedly, something else blowing up.

But then Lauren’s hand finds Camila’s in the dark room amongst all the chaos in her mind.

-

April marks four months of Camila’s sleep.

#UPDATE #series #AU #camren #scifi supernatural fantasy #submission #Falling Over

[geekade]

Legion of Spoilers: Chapter 5

Mirror, mirror. Through the looking glass. Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary.

Mirrors are uncanny places. They contain our phantom selves, and even their truths are backwards. A glance in the mirror is a dance with your doppelganger, an alternate self who is and is not you. Mirrors reassure, amuse, confront, and mislead us.

Last week, as his past revealed itself to his present, as his friends picked their way through a maze of reflections and echoes, David stepped through the looking glass. He returned unalone, a mirror image of his former self. His is the first reversal of many, and by the end, everyone from Summerland to D3 to Amy find themselves on the far side of the looking glass.

David’s 180 started at the end of Chapter 4, when he teleported out of the astral plane and into his friends’ escape from Dr. Poole’s lighthouse. His ambivalence about the cost of his arrival – Kerry took a bullet from The Eye in the ensuing confusion – is tempered by exhilaration at this taste of power. The first thing he does after they return Kerry to Summerland for treatment is create a room where he and Syd can be together. Having grasped that he can transmit signals directly into people’s brains, David has created a personal Matrix that allows him to deliver…sensory stimuli…directly to Syd’s brain without physical contact. This is equal parts cool and terrifying, but Syd makes the totally understandable decision to roll with it. Unfortunately, she also decides to forego sharing the results of their investigation of Philly and Dr. Poole, and David’s subsequent decisions are made without knowledge of his excised and manipulated memories.

While Cary tends to his wounded counterpart, David and Syd announce to Melanie that they’re going to D3 to retrieve Amy. Melanie objects that such a mission would require thorough reconnaissance and a fully prepped team. She also warns him against habitually creating new worlds for his own amusement, citing her husband’s fate, and David takes this opportunity to change the subject. In another of Chapter 5’s inversions, Melanie is discomposed by the hope of finally retrieving Oliver from his two-decade exile. Meanwhile, David’s nervous stutter has been displaced by a cocky conviction – D3 will be no match for him – which slides into predatory cruelty as he probes at Melanie’s loss. David offers to take her to the astral plane, but perhaps sensing a trap, Melanie musters enough composure to answer that she just wants Oliver back.

There is something new behind David’s eyes, something avid and hungry and heartless, and Melanie seems to be the only one who can see it. Cary is too preoccupied with patching up Kerry to notice much of anything else, and Ptonomy – who gets one good moment but is otherwise woefully underused in this episode – doesn’t budge from his initial distrust of David. Syd notices a change but has opted to consider it a net improvement. In fact, David’s mini-Matrix seems to have some residual effect on her, who is suddenly taking every opportunity to throw Dr. Bird her best mean girl stare. It’s almost as though the parasitic corruption in David’s mind has leached into her, temporarily draining her of compassion.

However, considering how little physical contact she gets to enjoy, it’s hard to blame her too much for her impatience to return to the white room with David before they leave for D3. David obliges, and in the post-Matrix-coital haze Syd tells him how she had sex for the first time, by hijacking her mother’s body and seducing her mother’s boyfriend. Hours later Syd awakes to hear David arguing with Lenny in the bathroom, but when she gets out of bed to investigate, the bathroom is empty. David has left for D3 without her.

Syd rushes to the war room where Melanie, Rudy, and Ptonomy are planning Amy’s rescue. Melanie’s face tightens as Syd delivers the news. They have to follow him. For the first time, we see Ptonomy openly question Melanie’s judgment and motives, but she’s right: If David fails and falls into D3’s hands, Summerland will be well and truly fucked. They have to go in blind and they have to do it now. Melanie takes one last opportunity to warn Syd about the possible implications of this suddenly un-fragile David. Be careful, she says, without rancor, just before they climb into the car.

David and Amy are long gone by the time they arrive, and the Summerland team’s operation goes from search and rescue to post-mortem. They split into two teams to sweep the ravaged complex. Rudy and Dr. Bird review surveillance footage of David's one-man assault, and viewers get their first unvarnished glimpse of apparently boundless power unrestrained by moral considerations. Thanks to some kind of psychic camera, they also get their first (remembered) glimpse of The Devil with Yellow Eyes. While Rudy and Dr. Bird consider this apparition that is standing where David should be, Syd and Ptonomy find Brubaker embedded in the concrete floor of the interrogation room. His last breath is a croaked warning: “Be careful…it wears…a…human…face.” Too late Brubaker realized David would never have been D3’s to use or control: something else got there first. Something with access to David’s nearly limitless power. Something that is now wearing his face.

This is what Cary tries to tell them shortly afterward (via hologram communicator watch!). He reviewed footage of David’s MRI, which captured flashes of young David and the Devil with Yellow Eyes and may have included bonus auditory hallucinations. Cary tells Melanie that David is schizophrenic, in that his mind is under hostile occupation by a consciousness other than his own. This consciousness has been “riding” David for nearly his entire life, manipulating his memories to camouflage itself. While the rest of the Summerland team assimilates the implications of this revelation, David calls Syd into the white room. He seems suddenly subdued, more like the shaky and uncertain David of previous episodes. He plucks out Rainbow Connection on a banjo, pointing to the bathroom door with frightened and tearful eyes. Syd closes the door against the persistent gazes of King and The Angriest Boy and then follows David’s gaze to a telescope that shows his childhood home.

I know I say "poor Amy" at least once a recap, but still: Poor Amy. No sooner is she rescued from D3 than she’s enduring another interrogation from David. Confronted with a terrifying psychokinetic projection that is, by turns, Lenny, Benny, King, and The World’s Angriest Boy, Amy admits that he was adopted, and that she and their parents had feared telling him would only exacerbate the symptoms of what they assumed – or perhaps hoped – was a mental illness. Before they died, their parents did not disclose the identities of David’s biological parents or whether they knew who they were at all. David does not appear to take this news well, but comics fans are surely pleased by this hint at his biological parentage.

The Summerland team reaches David’s childhood home after nightfall, unaware that The Eye has followed them. A high-pitched noise (a weapon? A mutant power?) suddenly kills their ability to produce or hear sound, and they proceed into the house under an eerie silence. Recognizing the house from the terrifying events of Chapter 3, Syd lingers behind. Then the Angriest Boy runs past her and up the stairs, and Syd masters her fear enough to follow. Downstairs, Cary has caught up with Melanie and Ptonomy, bearing a headset that he hopes will disable the parasitic consciousness long enough for them to speak with David alone. Kerry’s here too, against Cary’s objections. Fully healed and brandishing a bat studded with nails, she leads the four of them upstairs. In the soundless chaos, Rudy's whereabouts have gone unaccounted for, and "Rudy" (now The Eye in his switch-disguise) follows them.

Syd finds Amy catatonic in front of a mirror, trying and failing to rouse her before Lenny pounces. After a brief, sadistic display of her power over Syd and David, the rest of the Summerland group burst into the room. “Rudy” reverts to the Eye as he charges past them, plucking the tommy gun out of Ptonomy’s hands and firing. Syd leaps in front of David, who takes them back to the white room and confesses that he can’t overpower the thing that has taken over. The parasite emerges, cornering Syd, and David – seemingly paralyzed and utterly cowed – lets out a primal scream.

Syd pops back into consciousness at a Clockworks group therapy session. Somewhere, a ping pong ball is bouncing, its hollow, spherical FWOP the muffled rhythm of a clock underwater. She surveys the circle of fellow inmates: Rudy, Kerry, Cary, Melanie, Walter (The Eye), Ptonomy, an elderly man, and David. Everyone except Syd, David and the elderly man seem dazed and glazed over. Syd looks as though she might be remembering something, or forgetting it. A bespectacled Lenny holds a clipboard: Time to begin.

QUOTES 

“Who teaches you to be normal when you’re one of a kind?”

“It’s all an illusion. I see that now. Why did I fight so hard?”

“They made it sound like you were part of a team. With, like, a headquarters.”

“Don’t kid yourself, old man. There’s always a fight.”

“He’s not crazy. This is much, much wo—“

“Did you have to let them kick you in the crotch so many times?”

ODDS & ENDS 

Melanie made it sound like Oliver got stuck in the astral plane, but Oliver said he was waiting for something. Is he really still waiting, and if so, for what?

Really? Nobody’s gonna mention the frozen human on the other side of the cracked D3 window? The one hunched under what look like MRI scans?

It looks like Cary yelled “motherfuuuu” during the silent sequence.

Cary absorbs Kerry’s injuries, and also seems to function as a human Bag of Holding for her weapons of choice.

Beetles. Strawberries. Gloriously understated nightmare fuel.

Trees have been a recurring motif – in and out of David’s childhood home, in the nature tableaus at Summerland and Clockworks (the latter with bonus camouflaged inmate), and in the many upward shots looking through the treetops. The bathroom in the white room even has a tree growing over the tub. I have no theories about their significance, but there have been too many to be just set dressing.

The comic fan scuttlebutt is that the Devil with Yellow Eyes is the Shadow King. This may turn out to be true, but as it did with “mutant,” this column will only use names as the show introduces them.

“Who teaches you to be normal when you’re one of a kind?” would be a great question about learning to live as a mutant if it wasn’t deployed precisely at a narrative moment that seriously demanded pointed questions about consent.

This week in music: Radiohead’s “The Daily Mail,” the Muppets’ “Rainbow Connection,” and – be reference if not by soundtrack – Cream’s “White Room.”

FAN THEORIES, or WHAT THE HELL I THINK IS GOING ON 

I’m probably just embarrassing myself, but I’m still not entirely convinced that what we’ve seen so far is real. David is obviously capable of creating nested realities and I maintain that a Brazil-ception scenario remains a possibility. My (admittedly flimsy) evidence continues to be suspiciously consistent recurrences, like the trees, the ping-pong balls, and the taciturn elderly dude with the hand puppet.

Either everyone in that final shot has been an inmate at Clockworks all along, or the parasite has simulated a version of Clockworks to contain all their consciousnesses. Or Clockworks was always an invented place the parasite tried to use to contain David, and we’re looking at a Groundhog Day-esque series of entrapments and escapes.

Colorwatch: David wears yellow, black, and gray, suggesting his capitulation to the Devil with Yellow Eyes. He also tends to be wearing gray when he loses control. This is the first time since he was still wearing the Clockworks tracksuit that he has worn any yellow, and definitely the first time it’s been so prominent. Syd starts in her usual colors. She ditches the orange briefly while in defiant mean-girl mode but is wearing it again by the time they leave for D3. Walter/The Eye is still in the same olive green suit. This is also the first week we see Summerland’s campus in daytime without its golden forest-canopy sunlight. All the Clockworks inmates wear the same variations of the tracksuit used in Chapter 1. Lenny is dapper in black and white, with a red collar bar and wild socks. The white room’s pristine sophistication illustrates David’s new control over his power (which makes it fitting that the beetles show up in the strawberries, the one pop of red against the smooth neutrals of white and gold).

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