#i guess blanket tag for all the nonsense that’s coming out from my attempt to write the headcanon post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zoeykallus · 1 year

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Hello!

First or all, I hope you are doing fine and having a wonderful day✨. There's something I truly like about your blog, and it is that you always try to do it the most respectful that you can, it says a lot 🙌. I really love and enjoy your work; specially your headcanons, I think you've nailed the way the boys would be 💕. By the woul like to know if i can be added to your tag list 🥺.

I wasn't sure about doing this request, but i really got stuck the idea. I was wondering If you could write something about HunterxFReader (angst/smut), taking as reference that scene in The Proposal (with Sandra bullock and Ryan Reynolds) when they crash and fall to the ground, after she comes out of the bathroom 😂.

Sorry if I made a mistake in my writing, I'm not a native speaker 😅.

Aloha!

Thank you so much for your kind words! Much appreciated!😊💗 Added you to the tag list a little while ago when I first read you ask. I read them all right when I get them. The requests itself I have to work through from bottom to top, though, cause there are a lot of requests still waiting to be done. But finally, today, I made it to where your request was waiting. So sorry for the long wait!

Ah, yes, I know that movie, let me give this a try and my own little twist 😁

Hunter x Fem!Reader One-Shot - I Don't Hate You

Warnings: Strongly Suggestive/Angsty/Sexual Content/18+

____________

Hunter is assigned to be your bodyguard for a while. It seems like you and Hunter don't get along at all. He is a clone soldier, and you are a senator's daughter. You both succumb to your preconceptions of each other, which causes some friction. But quite unexpectedly, you get snowed in at the shelter you're hiding in for the duration of the mission. In a confined space with little privacy and dependent on each other, shreds fly at first, but ultimately so do sparks of unexpected affection.

_____________

Hunter was angry and stressed, being snowed in with you was the last thing he needed right now. The speeder was on the fritz, just wouldn't start, it was too cold, the next supply shuttle wasn't coming for at least two weeks, and you two kept clashing.

"I can't stand that woman," he growls as he spreads after shave balm on his cheeks and chin.

He had just showered in the only bathroom you shared in the cabin, and shaved. His eyes wandered over the thousand vials, jars, and other paraphernalia you had spread out there. Hunter couldn't understand at all why you needed so many cosmetics. In his eyes you were a pretty if annoying girl, all that stuff didn't make it any better or worse.

"Unnecessary nonsense," he grumbles to himself, "What is all this stuff?"

Annoyed, he pushes aside a few of your cosmetics with a sigh to make room for his few utensils.

When you wake up, it is still very early. It is dark outside, but the moonlight illuminates the perfectly white world outside.

You sigh, tired and annoyed. The weather has thrown a wrench in your plans, you were actually going to another safe house where you would have had more space and privacy, but thanks to the snow, you are now stuck here.

It's quiet in the cabin, except for the low hum of the heater, nothing can be heard.

You guess that Hunter is still asleep on the sofa in the living room. You half-wrap your naked body in the bedspread and swing yourself off the mattress, making your way to the bathroom.

It happens too fast for your tired mind to react. The door of the bathroom opens right in front of you, before you even touch it. Along with a cloud of warm, humid air that smells of Hunter's aftershave balm, Hunter steps out of it and right into you.

You collide, Hunter, who is also completely surprised, steps on the much too long blanket you have wrapped around yourself, which then slips away from you. You become entangled in the blanket and in each other in an attempt to keep your balance. In the end, you both fall, you backwards and Hunter forwards on top of you.

Hunter fortunately catches most of his weight on his hands and arms. Lying over you, he stares at you, and you stare back.

The towel he has tied around his hips has half come loose and hangs down on him.

"You're naked," he notes, a little perplexed.

"So are you."

For a brief moment, there is absolute silence and your thoughts are racing. Finally, you growl at him, "Get off me!"

Hunter hastily stands up, dropping the towel completely to the floor by accident, and he stands naked in front of you as you scramble up with the blanket. You can't help but stare at him. He's incredibly well-built, hard muscles standing out under his tanned, tattooed skin. Your gaze drifts down, and you can't help it, the words just slip over your lips, "Woah, not bad."

Hunter raises his brows and looks at you, puzzled. As you realize what you just did and said, you feel your face get hot.

A smirk suddenly appears on his lips, instead of reaching for the towel and covering himself, Hunter crosses his arms in front of his chest and looks at you challengingly.

"What was that?"

"I said nothing," you say, startled.

Hunter doesn't let you off the hook so easily, though.

"Oh yes you did, you said something while staring at my naked body".

Defiantly, you look at him and say, "Put something on."

Hunter laughs softly, "That's not even close to what you said"

The heat just won't leave your cheeks and you stare strained into his face, trying not to stare at his body again. He just stands there, doesn't even try to pick up the towel to cover himself. You blink, not quite able to grasp what's going on. The smile on his lips is adorable, everything about him is suddenly incredibly attractive.

In your mind you call yourself a fool, convinced that his beautiful body has befuddled your mind. Slowly, Hunter reaches out to you, grabbing a corner of the blanket you have wrapped around you.

"Shouldn't we maybe even out the circumstances?"

Very gently he's tugging at the blanket, it's not urgent, more questioning and maybe a little challenging.

"You want to see me naked?" you ask softly.

He shrugs slightly, his smile almost shy as he says, "Wouldn't that be fair?"

"I guess," you reply, letting go of the fabric, whereupon he pulls it off your shoulders and the blanket slides to the floor.

Your heart pounds hard in your chest as you watch his gaze travel down your naked body. His expression changes, surprise is in it, a certain fascination and dreaminess. You don't even begin to guess how much he likes what he sees.

"Gods, you are beautiful"

His hand still hovers close to your shoulder, where he has pulled down the fabric of the blanket, as if frozen in his pose.

On impulse, thinking back to the last few days of you and him arguing and bitching, you say, "Too bad we hate each other."

He blinks, looks at your face and says seriously, "I don't hate you".

"We haven't really been getting along in the last few days."

Hunter says quietly, "That still doesn't mean I hate you. Do you really hate me?"

You shake your head.

"No, you've been bugging me, with your snappy military ways and all your rules…. but I don't hate you."

Hunter shows you his gentle smile again and says, "Those rules exist to protect you, not to annoy you."

Basically, you know that, of course, but you don't like being bossed around, and Hunter is used to applying the commanding tone.

He clears his throat, licks his lips, and you can see that he's thinking things over and weighing them up.

"I shouldn't look at you like that, but I don't want to stop either," he finally says quietly.

"Like what?"

He takes a deep breath before saying, "Desirous. It's not my place, and in fact it breaks several rules imposed on me"

Bolder than you actually feel, you counter him, "We're alone, snowed in, for a few more days. If you don't tell anyone, then I won't tell anyone."

Hunter sighs, "You shouldn't tempt me."

"Why not?" you ask curiously.

"Because I actually want a lot more than just to look at you. That statement is like an invitation"

He steps closer to you, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, but he doesn't touch you.

"I want to smell you, taste you, feel you."

When you look into his eyes, they are very dark, almost black, his pupils widely dilated.

"Through your senses you can already smell me, can't you?"

He nods and says in a smoky voice, "Yes, I smell among other things that the thought of being touched by me pleases you, at least your body reacted immediately to my words"

Startled, you press your thighs together as if to prevent him from smelling your arousal. He smirks, his gaze twitches briefly to your thighs, then back to your face. Of course, your reaction has not escaped him.

"That thing you're trying to hide from me right now is exactly what I'd like to taste".

Your breath catches in your throat for a moment, your heart leaps, and even more heat spreads through your body. Hunter tilts his head, his face comes very close to yours, then your lips touch. First the touch is gossamer, gentle, then testing, curious, demanding. His tongue glides once over your lips, his lips close to yours he whispers, "Let me in mesh'la".

You don't think about it, your mouth opens, and his tongue immediately goes in playful search of yours. The first velvety collision is like fireworks. Your hands that previously hung uselessly at your sides greedily grab his shoulders, seeking contact. Feeling his broad, bare, muscular shoulders under your fingers is almost unbelievable at first. The heat that lurks under his skin passes over to you. His arms wrap around your body and slowly, as he kisses you, he pushes you back to the bed.

The back of your knees bump against the bed, and you almost fall, but Hunter holds you, gently lowering you onto the sheet and climbing over you. Hovering over you, leaning on his arms, he says softly, "Tell me if I go too far, Mesh'la."

Your first thought is that this man can't go too far at all, you are completely taken in by him, wanting to feel everything.

"I want more"

Hunter smiles.

"Good girl" he purrs.

He engulfs you in another heated kiss as your naked bodies lie pressed together on the bed. When he pulls away from the kiss, you're a little dizzy, the excitement, your pulse, your breathing.

Hunter kisses your neck, "Relax, Mesh'la, don't pass out on me yet."

You take a deeper breath, collect yourself, then feel his lips move down your body. Along your shoulder, to your breastbone and the mounds of your breasts. Playfully, he sucks a nipple between his lips and lets his tongue do a delicate dance on it, getting faster and faster.

You moan and your legs open automatically, expectant in desire and pleasure for more of him.

He keeps whispering to you, "Such a good girl, look at you, so beautiful, so willing. I will reward you, sweet Mesh'la".

He travels further down, from your breasts to your belly and slowly further and further, to your open thighs. His gaze drifts upward and meets yours.

"Can I have a taste?"

His hands slide to your thighs and grasp, holding them a little farther apart. Just feeling the strength in his hands makes your juices gather in your pussy.

"Yes, please," you say softly, to which Hunter smiles slyly at you.

His face hovers over your pussy. He takes a deep, shaky breath, closes his eyes, and opens them again. He seems to be in a trance as he places a gentle kiss directly on your swollen pearl, eliciting a small whimper from you. Shortly after, he drags his tongue through your folds, from top to bottom, several times, finding your heated, sensitive entrance and slowly sliding his tongue in circles inside you.

Your mouth drops open and a hoarse, long moan comes from your lips, louder than you expected, but as you put your hands in front of your mouth in shock, he lets go of you and says, "Let me hear you, Mesh'la, don't hold back, no one can hear you here but me."

Slowly you put your hands back down, letting out a moan of arousal as he drills his tongue into you quite abruptly with much more eagerness than before. His tongue is deft, strong and fast, you haven't experienced anything like it before. Your breathing gets faster and faster as he tongue fucks your pussy.

Your hands grip the sheet and tug at it, looking for stability.

A soft curse comes over your lips as he takes one hand off your thighs, his fingers find your clit and begin to stroke and massage it as his tongue continues to lick out your pussy, twitching through your cleft again and again.

Your body glows with arousal, your thighs begin to tremble, your moans and breaths quicken. Hunter hums softly, pleased with your reaction, he knows he has you ready in a moment. With a hoarse cry, your climax rolls over you, radiating from your center to your toes and hairline, as your pussy twitches around his tongue and your clit pulses violently under his fingers.

Hunter gently works you through your orgasm until it ebbs and finally lets go of you, climbing back over you, upward, until your faces are back at the same height. As he kisses you, you smell and taste yourself on him.

Breathing heavily, he finally leans his forehead against yours. His hard cock rests on your pubic, twitching impatiently every now and then. You can feel how much he pulls himself together, how much strength it costs him to hold back. Very slowly, very gently, after a while he begins to rub his swollen length over your pubic.

"I know I shouldn't ask for this," he says breathlessly, "But would you be willing to go further?"

You don't hesitate for a second.

"Yes, I'd love to."

Hunter's eyes widen, surprise, relief and pure lust are in his expression. You already know this is a night you won't forget.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@taskfork-archive

@cpnt616

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

call me babydoll | reader x chan

a/n: ahhhhh wow WOW cuties LOL i was not expecting this fic idea to keep me up in my sleep and occupy all my waking thoughts BUT thank you so so much for you words of support!! hehe well....here we goooo i hope that ya’ll are ready teehee--also tags will be added as they come! You can read part one here

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan

Genre: action, mystery and suspense, fluff, smut, angst

Tags: (of this part) bodyguard au, secret agent au, royal au, moderndayprince!chan, secretagent!reader, secretagent!jeongin, secretagent!jisung, skz side characters, adventure and mystery, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, sexual tension, explicit language, jeongin in this fic is my bb and i will protect him, sexy and smart jeongin tho still hehe

CWs: mentions of death, people dying/killing, mentions of blood and wounds, mentions of getting drunk, hungover, and vomiting, a bombing.

Word count: 5.2k

Parts

ONE | TWO | THREE

The road was long and winding, pitch black, desolate, quiet and foreign. In the backseat of the car, Chan had slumped his head over on Jeongin’s shoulder and bobbed with the motions of the road. His nose would twitch in his sleep, and he would make little grunts of nonsense words. He had worked himself up after the banquet, and actually hadn’t stopped his “love confessions” until you told him to shut up or you would shut him up.

Your partner’s glasses were illuminated from the screen of his laptop which he tapped quietly away at. You too felt drowsy, but sleep would be for later once you had properly arrived at the safe house, or safe hotel, or safe hole in the ground...whatever it was.

“You hear anything from Carroll?” You slung your arm over the seat and lowered your voice.

“Nothing yet.” His eyes flicked around the screen. “It’s almost like it’s too quiet. I’ve already told her that we have the prince and that he’s safe, but..nothing.”

“You don’t think...they got targeted too?”

Chan snored lightly on his bodyguard’s shoulder, and he didn’t dare to move an inch.

“I sure as hell hope not. But...that would explain why things have been so quiet. If this was a larger scale attack...I don’t know what this could mean then.”

From the darkness of the outside world in the car windows, you passed a forest of pines and oher types of stoic trees making up the mountainside.

“Well, I think that we should be optimistic for the time being.”

Jeongin nodded. He looked to be a mess: blood had splattered at his white shirt collar and in specks on his neck. His cracked lenses however, didn’t keep him from his work. He had pulled his tie loosely around his neck, and had also provided his jacket as a pseudo-blanket of sorts for the prince. The prince, had offered his own jacket to you seeing as you only had your dress, but you had been managing just fine. You accepted it, but only because it could soothe his chivalrous ego. He had a hard night already, so you saw it best.

“Two, where are you taking us?” You called to the mysterious driver.

Ever since meeting him at the hotel, he had been nearly silent the whole ride.

The man cleared his throat, “As far away from here as I can. I don’t know of any safe houses so...I’m just trying to remove us.”

“I can find one for us if Carroll doesn’t get back to me....which she should...”

Jeongin was not one for speaking of his mother as anything other than his boss. Since he had been assigned to be your partner a few months ago, he had never referred to her as his mother, nor did he ever seem to harbor any emotion for the stern woman. Both of them had been a bit allusive to you, but that was simply how it was in this line of work. You didn’t know things about the people around you, and you didn’t need to ask. You had wondered if he had worried about her, or thought about her when you were on missions. The young man had trained rigorously, and had passed each exam from the academy with flying colors. After considering it for a while, you figured what immense pressure he must've been under: son of the woman in charge, a master at infiltration, espionage, manipulation, cybersecurity, and a million more things; he had to prove himself and more.

You couldn’t have asked for a better partner, but you almost did wish that you had known more.

Two fiddled with the radio, settling on a station that played some kind of country-western type music.

“What’s your specialty Two? How’d you end up a part of this shitshow?”

The driver laughed, then hummed along with the music for a moment. “This has been my gig for few years, but I’ve never been a part of this unit before. Carroll always saw it best for my services to be used in other places.”

“You have a specialty?” Jeongin asked while still typing furiously.

Two scratched the back of his head. “I do a little bit of everything. But...let’s just say that I’m good at making friends. That’s why Carroll likes me.”

“--You know her personally?” Your partner quipped, but the edge to his voice didn’t sound like judgement, but rather caution.

“We’ve had a few meetings.”

“Hm.”

You kicked off your heals to massage your aching toes. If only they had attacked at a time when you had the proper footwear.

“You said we could also call you J?” You sprawled over the back seat in an attempt to make yourself more comfortable. Still, the plastic seatbelt buckles poked into your back.

“Yes. You can call me J.”

And that was that. No “What’s J stand for”, or “where are you from”, “where’s your home base,” “how did you rank at the academy?” You added questions to the list of things that weren’t allowed as well.

Jeongin tore off his glasses with an exasperated sigh to rub at his tired eyes. Chan made a happy little noise, presumably because he had found a cozier spot on Jeongin’s shoulder. He had now gotten the chance to sleep off his drunken stupor that may or may not had contributed to his sudden confession, and the reason behind the two pitstops you had taken for him to retch on the side of the road.

If he was a prince, he might’ve also been one mess of a prince. In all of his grace and confidence, the pleasures that he partook in would often get the best of him at times too.

You gave up on trying to get some sleep, but rather sat up to watch that paradoxically handsome and misshapen prince. Just like this: sleeping, vulnerable, with some kind of lopsided smirk on his face, he was much less than the regal figure that you had painted him to be in your mind. For maintaining appearances the whole day long, you hadn’t ever really gotten the chance to see him like this before. His façade faded, and you surmised that maybe he really was different from the way that he let on.

“I’m so fucking tired.” Jeongin yawned.

“Get some sleep then. I’ll stay up to watch things.”

“That’s just it. I can’t sleep even if I tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“Can you pass me some hand sanitizer or something? There’s...blood on my hands.”

Your partner’s voice cracked slightly. It was then when you realized that this had been the first time that he had fired at real people.

“I’ve got a water bottle? Is that enough?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

He splashed the liquids around while wiping his hands away, then flicked the remnants of water away.

“Something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”

“How do you mean?”

Chan’s coat draped over your shoulders, and you pulled it in closer around your arms. The night had been cool, and the AC blasting in the car didn’t make it much better.

Jeongin licked his lips. “Nothing was supposed to happen tonight. We made sure of it. No one was suspicious, we ran background checks, we checked the whole area...”

“Hey,” You attempted to turn your tone softer, “We couldn’t have seen it coming. They just rolled up out of nowhere, there was no way that we could’ve stopped it--”

“--Innocent people died tonight. If they were out for the prince, or maybe they weren’t, why so much collateral damage?”

“Obviously they don’t care.”

“Bastards.” Jeongin took the last bits of water to slug. “We’re gonna fucking find out why they did all of this.”

Two shifted in his seat, “Any word? Hate to mention it, but I’m getting kinda tired. It’s past three already.”

“Fox?”

He clicked around, then shook his head. “Still nothing.”

Chan snorted a bit in his sleep: an action which woke him up.

“Wha-what? Where are we? Are the there yet? What time is it? Fuck...my head feels like it’s splitting...”

“We’re finding somewhere, your Highness. We’ll be there soon.” Your partner motioned for you to hand him another water to give to the disorientated prince.

Chan nodded while he rubbed his temples. “Shit. Please tell me that I just made this all up. That it’s some kind of fucked up nightmare...”

You threw Chan’s coat back to him. “Unfortunately, no. We’re trying to figure out everything that we can.”

“Who the hell were those guys?” Water dripped down his neck in a way that you pretended not to notice. “They were wearing crests. I couldn’t tell, but weren’t they red?”

“Very observant, your Highness. F?”

The younger man bit his lip, “I’ve already tried finding where the crest is from, but I can’t find anything that resembles it within our database. I was able to see one up close. It looked like a heart or something like that, and a diamond. I’m guessing that it could’ve been maybe a spade? Like the kind that you see on playing cards? Still, since we’ve never seen it before, we can only assume that they must be a new group.”

Chan nodded, but anyone could tell that the information had flown right over his head. He licked at his wet lips, then sighed.

“Bee, You okay? Fox? I suppose that I should ask you both.”

“I’m...fine.” His sudden concern came as a surprise, and your partner looked just as shocked.

“I-I’m fine too. No holes in me or anything.” Jeongin suppressed a laugh. “But you’re not, your Highness. How much did you have to drink?”

“Oh...enough. I guess that I lost track at some point. Those kind of things are boring anyway.”

“Fox? You’ve got that locale?” Two clicked the turn signal.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ve got one. Sorry, It’s about an hour from here.”

“Locale?” Chan cocked his head.

“A safe house. Or something like that. We need to lie low while we wait for instructions.”

“No one has said anything...? Not even...my father?”

Jeongin shook his head gravely. “No.”

The young prince fell silent, and you watched as worry fell over his clouded eyes that were lined with bags. Normally his expression was anything but strained, but in this moment, you saw doubt sweep over him like the darkness on the road ahead. You leaned the farthest you could from your seat to grab at his hand behind you.

“You’re safe with us. Nothing is going to happen to you.”

His hand was warm, maybe a little clammy, but it was soft, like that of a prince, naturally. Still, it was strong and veined. Chan’s thumb rubbed soft little circles into your own skin, muttering, “Thank you.” For once, his eyes which would normally devour you like some kind of rare dish held you earnestly. I trust you, they said.

“Two. Let’s switch.” Jeongin slammed his laptop closed. “I’ve got it from here.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The safe house was quiet. As most of them where. It was even a bit stereotypical: a little cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods on nearly all sides. It had a little overgrown garden, and a shed that looked like it held either all kinds of gardening equipment, or the real thing that sheds were meant for in your business: ammo. It had a white painted porch with cracking paint, as well as porch swing with rusting chains. In the early morning the windows were are black, but still faintly reflected the massive array of sparking stars above your heads. The only thing less antique about the home was the touch keypad on the front door. It beeped with a little tune, then flashed the insignia of the agency: a ticking clock.

“Two, can you find a generator or something? Get the electricity up and going?”

“Can do,” He said, then disappeared.

Two was mostly a quiet man, a feature that gave you both reasons to trust him and to be suspicious. Besides him being a bit smaller in stature with thin legs and characteristically round cheeks, there was something different about him that you couldn’t place; something unexpected. You wished once again that questions weren’t on the list of things that weren’t allowed.

“There should be clothes around here somewhere.” Jeongin padded his way through the dark rooms. “You shower first your Highness.”

Chan tripped over his feet as he spread out his arms to find his way. You giggled lightly at the action. A man really was stripped down of any and all sense of composure when his life had been threatened and he had to have his bodyguards pat his back while he had gotten sick after one too many royal drinks.

The lights flashed on, flickering at first with the sound of the lightbulbs waking up after a long sleep. The interior design of the place was exactly as you had expected: it was a family home with a fireplace and several chairs and couches covered in dust. Bookshelves were full with the strangest assortment of reading material and board games there held a thin layer of grey dust too. The kitchen was small and cozy: it had all the necessities. A stained glass chandelier hung over the wooden table for eight, and was decorated with glass hummingbirds and pink flowers. In odd corners of the house, children’s toys had been sitting untouched. A family must’ve been living there, and you wondered what must’ve become of them.

Two returned with spiderwebs caught on his dress coat. “Water should be hot in about thirty minutes or so I think.”

Your partner crossed the room, raking a hand through his snowy white hair. “I’m gonna try and make the calls again. See if I get anything. If not, we’ll have to...begin Operation Cheshire.”

It was the phrase that you had hoped neither you nor your partner would have to say.

Chan slumped down in one of the upholstered chairs, throwing dust into the air as he did. Compared to the rest of the room, him and his designer clothes seemed comically out of place. “Wha-what’s that?”

Two pinched between his eyes, and your chest shook with an unsure inhale.

“It means that we assume the worst. HQ got taken over and we’re all at risk. Information about us could be accessible to anyone. Essentially, we go into sleeper mode until we can reconvene with other agents...if there are any more. We dissapear. Next, we work on getting you back home, no matter what it takes.”

“HQ?” What are you talking about?” Chan toyed with his diamond set cufflinks. “HQ? Like whoever manages the bodyguards??”

“Your Highness...” You and your partner exchanged knowing glances. “We’re more than bodyguards.”

“What?!”

“We’re operatives. Agents. We work for an intelligence agency that specializes in a bunch of different things...protecting royalty if needed.”

“What the fuck?! Why didn’t anyone tell me? Chan slapped his leg. “Fuck! No one tells me anything!!! I get that I’m a fucking prince but I’m not fucking useless!”

The memory of the confidential file reemerged in your memory: the promise that you had made to His Majesty The King after he had requested a “special hire” to watch over his son. The file itself had contained a several thousand words or so that you hadn’t bothered to read, but rather skimmed till you got to the signature part. Carroll had simply nodded before you put your pen to the paper.

“It was for your saf--”

“--My father did this, didn’t he? Didn’t he? Some kind of sick way to keep tabs on me? See what I’m doing?? God! The man never trusts me. If the thinks that I’m that much of a disappointment...this is just--”

“Your Highness, it’s been a long day, you’ve been through a lot, just take a shower and get some rest. Alright? We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” Two stepped forward with his hands folded in front of him. His interjection was unlike his previously quiet presence.

The prince sighed, tapping his tragically expensive shoe on the hardwood.

“Fine. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Chan’s eyes grew dark with an authoritative air that you had seen before. His façade had slipped over him like a cloak. He rose, buttoning his jacket, then tweaking his sliver brooches decorating his neck.

“Fox. Bee. Two. Thank you. Good evening.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Chan knew that it was you at the door when you would knock two times, then pause, and knock twice more. In your hands, you held a cup of warm milk. For a prince, even he couldn’t reject the beverage to help him fall asleep at night. You had seen him order it at hotels on more than one occasion. Jeongin had found a nearby store to get food for the morning. The two of you had suddenly found yourselves as now both his bodyguards and his servants. While you waited, you hoped to God that Carroll would compensate you for the extra work.

The door creaked open, revealing your prince modestly dressed in plaid flannel, hair dripping slightly in wet strands. You had never seen him as simple as this before: no princely persona or cold exterior to upkeep. He looked...normal.

“What is it Bee?”

“I thought you might like some...well, this.” You provided him with the cup. “I know that it’s nearly morning, but you should still try to sleep in. We’ll take care of things.

He took the ceramic mug from your hands, fingers barely brushing against yours for mere moments.

“Thank you.” He hushed with a thankful smile. “Would you like to come in? We could...just kind of...sit for a minute.”

Behind him, sun peaked at the horizon, a splitting of red piercing the navy deep of the night. The colors muddled, blurred, a bit like the color of blood fading into the deep fabric of one’s formal wear. It was desolate, but still beautiful.

“To be honest,” His eyes fell, “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

You had saved the biggest room for him. It smelled of mothballs and other old things like sheets that had rested in a dark room for much too long. Still, there was a kind of familiarity to it all and the way that the matted rugs and brass vintage lamps lit the room with a soft yellow light. The full sized bed creaked once you had sat down. In his golden halo, Chan’s brown strands appeared to be softer, and not as prim and staged.

“I’m sorry for snapping earlier. I realized that there are things that are out of my control. You know more than I do, and I accept that. I trust you...a-and Fox.”

You rubbed your hands into the jeans you had found in the cupboard. They had dirt and grass stains from work in the garden you presumed.

“It’s okay. I understand that you would be scared. It’s okay to be. I...get scared sometimes too. I know that it might look like it, but I fear...for my life too. So does Jeong--Fox.”

Chan’s voice cracked. “Is someone out to kill me?”

You sighed, sensing his hesitation. “I don’t know. But we will know soon.”

The prince stared down at the white bubbles in his milk, then swirled around the liquid to watch the way that that it moved.

“I don’t think I’d like to die. Would be pretty unfortunate, don’t you think? I feel like I’ve got so many other things to do. A kingdom to manage, people to govern, much more bottles of Scotch to drink, parties to attend...”

His eyes met yours, and you could see the very fragility of the life that he spoke of right in them. He was right in that dumb speech of his. He really was just a person.

“...I like to think that I’ll get married someday to someone that I love. I actually would really like to do that.” He chuckled. “Lame, right? Someone like me who always bounces around. Wouldn’t take me for one?”

“Mm. No. I think that from what I’ve observed of you, and I’m trained to observe, I think that bouncing around...means you’re looking for the right thing. And, I guess that it’s fun too.”

Chan chuckled, “You’re good at observing.”

You paused, remembering Lee Minho from earlier.

“Were you looking when you were talking to that man at the banquet? He was very handsome.”

The prince placed the cup down. “He was. I don’t know. He just seemed kind of interesting. The kind of mystery that only a stranger has. I would’ve liked to have talked to him more now that I think about it. Maybe it would’ve been worth my time.” Chan twisted his back to crack it. “I don’t know if you saw but he had some really nice fucking thighs.”

“Ahhh. Nice thighs. Didn’t know that you cared for that.”

The two of you laughed together a bit like old friends. It felt nice.

“...Bee. I should also probably apologize for how I acted back before we got in the car. I was...drunk, scared. I said some things--”

“--That you were in love with me?”

“Yeah...that. I realized that...I’ve been...unfair to you. You don’t deserve the ridicule. You’ve only ever been helpful to me and--”

“--Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” You shrugged. You had met hundreds of guys like him before, at least you thought.

Chan sighed as if he was gathering himself. “Bee. I did mean what I said.”

“What? Ch-your Highness, you don’t mean that.”

He laughed, “It’s alright. You can call me Chan. And...yes. I did. You’ve got a kind of mystery to you too. Frankly, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“This...this is inappropriate.” You shifted, the rising off the bed. Your cheeks warmed, but you couldn’t know why. Maybe he was just too damn charming. But, he was like that with everyone.

He rose too, hastily following you on your way to the door. “Bee, wait.”

“Chan, you can’t do this. It makes things...complicated.”

He advanced, slowly, closing the space between you. “It’s only complicated if you feel the same.”

“I-I don’t.”

The prince’s hand carefully rose to cup your face, a gesture so gentle that you shied from the feeling. Even this close still he smelled of white roses.

“Have you ever heard of conflict of interest?” Your breath hitched.

Chan grinned, “There you go making this complicated again.”

A wandering hand of yours acting on its own reached to tug hold of his shirt.

The prince leaned in closer, nearly close enough to breech the gap between his plush lips and yours.

“What if I don’t mind making things...” He whispered the word, grazing his mouth over yours, “...complicated?”

“Ch--”

He pressed his weight fully into you, a smashing of lips met with incessant heat and your back shoved into the door. His tongue easily twisted around yours, and his soft gasps filled up your mouth. It had taken you a couple seconds to realize what had happened, and to decide what to do with yourself. His mouth was blazing, it was as if he was weaving a spell, or perhaps you had made it up for yourself. He kissed you with vitality; like he had never tasted anything like you before and was starving for you. You realized, perhaps you had wondered what it would’ve felt like. One hand squeezed tighter to his shirt, and you kissed back, meeting his heat.

Jeongin’s voice called down the hall, “Bee? Bee, are you there?” The sound of your bedroom door shut.

You pushed Chan off you with flat hands on his chest and an amazed smile on his face.

“This...this doesn’t mean anything.” You gasped, reaching for the knob after a moments pause.

Chan snickered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Goodnight your Highness.”

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

For a man so young Jeongin liked his coffee black, and drank it like an old man too with his nose buried in a newspaper while it fogged up his glasses--or what was left of them.

“I finally got correspondence from Carroll this morning. She said that HQ experienced some kind of blackout and all the systems went offline. It wasn’t safe for her to contact us on a regular line. They got everything back up and running and everything seems fine, or so they think.”

Your partner had already made himself comfortable in a pair of sweatpants and a cotton tee with slippers. You never would’ve guessed that he was a trained assassin on the side.

Two returned huffing in the door from his morning run. He was one of those people.

“Any word?” He rubbed his face off with a dishtowel.

“Disgusting.” You sneered at the crude action.

“Well, we’ve got thousands of miles between us and the kingdom and what seems like a hell of a lot of guys on our tail, but, after I sent Carroll the info about the red crest, she wants us to do some digging.

“With the prince in tow?” You lowered your voice lest the sleeping royal heard you. “I don’t think so.”

“It sounds like she’s convinced that the person behind all of this could be someone who attended the charity ball. And, I don’t really disagree. They must be good at keeping secrets if they evaded us.”

“Hm. You’re right. A high profile event like that, even though its for a good cause it’s always a competition with those snobs. I just don’t know who could order something so cruel...all those people in the same place...”

“Since it’s a new group, they must still be underground. So, to see who lives underground, you’ve got to go there yourself to find out. Or, in our case, find someone who knows the rabbit hole.”

Two grabbed a chair, ruffling his deep brown soaked hair. “What does that mean?”

Jeongin flipped his laptop around. “This is the man that we need to go see. Codename White Rabbit. Or as he calls himself--”

“--Bun.” You cut in. “Yeah, I know him.”

Both of the men chimed, “You do?”

“Yeah, he’s undercover ops for the agency. He’s sort of a jack of all trades. He owns some kind of front out in Egypt. It’s called The Tea Party. Bar up front, but in the back he provides all kinds of information--for both sides. His cut is that for any information he gives to the agency he gets cash compensation. If anyone would know about anything underground, it would be him. As I’m sure Carroll told you, he’s a stickler for meeting in person. He’s one of us. I think.”

“You think?”

“He also does...other deviant things. I heard that these days he’s had a couple dealings in some...substances. Black market stuff. Carroll also provides safety for his business in return for his information.”

“That...sounds illegal. Immoral even.” Jeongin’s eyes widened upon hearing the news about his mother.

“You’ve got to pay to play you know.”

“So Egypt then?” Two wiped off the back of his neck with the dishtowel, stretching out one of his toned arms. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Oh--one more thing.” Jeongin took a rather long sip from his cup. “The King’s counsel reached out to me too this morning. They asked me if the Prince was safe and where we were. I have them loose details of both. They seemed somewhat relieved.”

Chan sauntered down the steps with a massive yawn, stretching up his arms and shirt to reveal an inkling of his abs. You also pretended not to notice it.

“Gooood morning everyone. Fox. Two.” He dished out a wink. “Bee.”

“Morning your Highness.” Jeongin nodded, and crossed his legs. “Feeling well?”

“Ahhh much better.” He poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, staring out the little window over the sink, then took an indulgent sip. “It’s peaceful here. I kind of like that.”

“Your Highness, we’ve received word--”

Chan rose his hand to shush your partner, then languidly took another sip. “I’m still enjoying my drink F.”

A light buzzing resonated somewhere in the house, a bit like the sound of a dryer, and the home started vibrating. Your water glass on the table rippled.

“Two, did you notice if there was anything strange about the house?”

The buzzing grew nearer.

Two looked puzzled, “No, why?”

The vibrating grew more violent, and your glass shuddered off the wooden table, shattering on the ground upon impact.

Chan squinted out the window, “Is that a--”

“CHAN GET DOWN!” You shrieked.

Within milliseconds the whistling of a bomb screeched through the air, then crashed into the rickety ceiling, splintering wood everywhere and demolishing the furniture.

You had seconds to act while the matte black bomb hissed with a steam releasing from some seam and ticked. You sprinted to grab Chan’s arm as hard as you possibly good, all in a blur, pummeling your bodies against one of the shattered windows, and hurling yourself out to the morning dew. You had no time to see if Jeongin or Two had made their exit, but looked out, towing the prince so hard you must’ve done some damage to his shoulder. You stumbled to your feet, tripping, and grunting until the bomb diffused, and exploded the cottage altogether. You covered Chan’s head and most of his body with your own as a shield and the shards of wood, metal, and brick came flying.

“Ar-are you okay?” You patted the prince down in his shock, who stared blankly with empty eyes.

The prince’s flannel had been torn to shreds with glass, and blood oozed onto the fabric on his arms.

“Yeah...yeah...I’m...fine.”

“BEE! Y/N!” Jeongin screamed over the flames to find you.

“OVER HERE!” You bellowed back, and your partner came running with Two behind him with terrible cuts on his face.

“They knew. They FUCKING knew.” He panted after reaching you.

“We have to get out of here.” Two gasped, and blood ran down his face, nearly into his eye. “If they know where we are now, they’ll come to check to see if the damage is done. We have to move.”

The sky filled with an angry smoke, and the once peaceful forest filled with the colors of orange and red.

“The car?”

“Broken windows from the blast but I should be able to get it going. There’s spare parts in the shed. And ammo. A fuck ton of it.”

“We’ll need it.”

You pulled the prince to his feet as he blinked wildly at you and your team.

“Fuck.” Was all the could manage.

In your complete surprise, Chan’s bloodied and cracked hands pulled your face into his, kissing you with lips that tasted of the salt of blood.

“I fucking love you Bee. I’ve decided.”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped in the corner of your eye, so you promptly slapped the prince upside the face.

“You’re in shock. We need to get out of here.”

A wrinkled smile danced on the royal’s face, and you might’ve thought that it was a bit charming.

“Admit it. You love me too Bee.”

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @julesinthesoop

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justleaf · 3 years

Text

Throwing out a ficlet because guess who had another 14 hour day and is having trouble de-compressing 🙃 This is self-indulgent AF because honestly what I wouldn't give to just be locked in a hotel room without any work to do. You can see my sanity leave as the ficlet goes on.

Summary:

Aiden and Lambert are stuck in hotel quarantine in Macau, China.

Tags:

modern au, asian!Aiden (because @jlyarts and I say so), crack, covid, hotel quarantine, mentions of gambling, tons of gratuitous nonsense

_________________

He was a second away from drifting off when the bathroom door swung open and bursts of steam twirled into their hotel room.

"Lamb."

"What?"

"Lamb I'm bored."

"Aiden-" Lambert sighed and sat up, not bothering to hide his disdain, "We've been here for 2 hours. We have 13 days and 22 hours more to go."

"But I'm bored."

Lambert sighed and attempted to throw a pillow at his cat. Aiden batted it right back at him, because of course his focus was still razor sharp. They'd just survived 13 hours of flying and a 10 hour layover, and while Lambert felt a used tissue on the floor of Gatwick airport, Aiden was as fresh as the pomegranate salad he'd had on the plane over.

They were put up at a fancy hotel and while that normally would have been a blessing, being barricaded in a room just within reach of the slot machines and the baccarat tables was about torture for him. And Aiden probably felt the same, because he was pacing topless along the length of their comparably tiny room, dripping water across the carpeted floor and practically vibrating with energy.

"Kitten. Put on some clothes and come to sleep. It's 10pm."

"I'm jetlagged."

He huffed another sigh, and his sleep-addled brain presented only one option: wrestle Aiden to bed. To his credit, the cat put up quite the fight but he failed to anticipate Lambert rolling him up in the blanket like a burrito, and then falling dead asleep on top of him. Eventually he fell asleep from boredom.

Day Three

Aiden's parents were a blessing. They'd sent a box of portuguese egg tarts, pineapple buns and pork chop buns. Lambert watched in awe as Aiden devoured everything in one sitting, and he was left to wonder how one tiny body fit all that food.

His cat was shorter than him by a good few centimeters and scrawnier, and yet he was somehow capable of demolishing a loaf of bread without blinking an eye, while Lambert gained a kilo by simply walking by a bakery and sniffing gluten once.

Day Five

Lambert thought himself a genius. He'd put Aiden's kneading fixation to good use by convincing him that they should make use of their time to pick up a massage skill or two.

The WiFi was crap but they'd manage to discern the instructions from a 240p video, and at the end of it, he fell asleep after a one hour massage.

Day Six

Aiden finished reading all the books they brought, and Lambert woke up from a dream where he ate a hamburger. He was on the verge of tears when he woke up, because he missed burgers more than he missed his gaming setup.

Day Seven

His in-laws sent over hotpot and beer. Life felt like it was worth living again.

Day Ten

They attempted yoga on the balcony in a bout of madness. Aiden was fluid, flexible, and flawless, stumbling only once when Lambert fell on him mid-way through a pose.

Day Twelve

Lambert had a 3 hour call with Geralt, Eskel, Ciri, and even Vesemir because he felt his sanity cracking. The connection was as bad as Vesemir's receding hairline, but he counted his blessings.

Day Fourteen

"Someone's coming," Lambert announced, for just about as excited as Aiden. He was standing behind the door with his ear plastered to the frame, suitcases in hand and ready to bolt. He straightened up when the footsteps drew closer, doing his best to look sane for whoever would open the door. His cat just sniggered stepped into his space, wrapping his arms around his middle and sighing contentedly into the crook of his neck.

"You know," he heard the gentle rumble and felt the rub of a cheek against his shoulder, "I'm glad you're here with me."

And Lambert pecked a kiss on the crown of his head and said nothing, because as much as he would never admit it, he didn't actually hate being stuck in a room for two weeks with the love of his life.

#dabbles #aiden #lambert #lamden #i am so fucks tired #pls just let me expire #drabbles

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bts-babyjoonie · 3 years

Text

Potion Witch- Namkook AU CH 2

Paring: Namjoon x Jungkook

Tags: Witch Jungkook, Witch Namjoon, fluff, clumsy Namjoon, eventual smut, slow burn, Namkook in love.

Word Count: 2,620

Summary: Namjoon is a potion making witch. He's also very clumsy and prone to making mistakes. Probably not the best thing when your job is to handle delicate substances. Every two weeks Namjoon goes into town with a wagon full of his potions. He delivers them to his buddy and closest business partner Jungkook. Lately, Jungkook has been having trouble falling asleep so he turns to Namjoon to make him a sleep remedy. Of course, Namjoon agrees and makes it for him, but he accidentally mixes up the potions and gives Jungkook the wrong one. The next thing he knew, Jungkook was a bunny.

He’s done it now hasn't he….

“Oh god what do we do”, Namjoon gasped.

Jungkook was small- too small. His dark ears looked soft to the touch and the fluff on his chest was puffed out. His black eyes sparkled in the light.

“Jungkook you’re so cute!”, Namjoon squealed.

The adorable facade faded as soon as Jungkook opened his mouth to speak.

“Well, you know what’s not cute? This mess you got me in. What the hell are you going to do Namjoon?!”

He couldn’t take Jungkook seriously like this. He was a freaking rabbit for god's sake! The adorable high-pitched voice didn’t help either.

“Okay don’t worry, I’m going to take you home with me and we’ll try and find a potion that can turn you back into a human.”

Namjoon assumed Jungkook understood by the silence he gave. His tiny eyelids began to droop. As if he were to fall asleep.

“I’m going to pick you up now okay?”

“Okay”, said the small voice.

In Jungkook's eyes, Namjoon looked humongous. Well, Namjoon was always taller than him but this time he was intimidatingly large. He gently wrapped his arms around the small bunny and scooped him into his arms like a baby. As he laid there, Jungkook suddenly felt very sleepy. Namjoon’s arms were thick and warm, and despite his earlier fear, he felt safe.

Namjoon could tell that the bunny was tired. The transformation from a big to small body must’ve taken a great amount of energy from him. It was best to bring him home quickly so he could rest.

“Are you sleepy?” Namjoon softly whispered. Jungkook replied with a heavy-lidded blink. It felt like his heart was going to explode at how cute he was. Namjoon took the end of his cloak and wrapped it around Jungkook’s small body making a sling for him to sleep. He then grabbed the other end and made a knot securing the bunny.

“I guess we better get going”, Namjoon sighed.

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

The trip back to his house went fine. Jungkook was asleep the entire time. Even when namjoon opened the creaky wooden door to his house, he stayed asleep. Inside it was cold and dark. Namjoon snapped his fingers and suddenly the candles were lit, brightening up the dark room. He set the small bunny down onto the living room couch and covered him with a red blanket. The house lacked warmth so he made sure to lite the fireplace as well.

Namjoon went over to the kitchen and grabbed the unreasonably thick spellbook he kept on the shelf. He plopped it down on the counter and started flipping the pages in hopes of finding a solution. After about 15 minutes, he finally stumbled upon a potion that might be able to help Jungkook out. It seemed he had all the ingredients except for the Nightshade. Normally this wouldn’t have been a problem except for the fact that nightshade was extremely hard to come across.

“Shit’’, Namjoon hissed.

The only person he thought might have it was the Elder witch. But reaching him would surely be a perilous journey. It seemed he had no choice though. Owning up to his mistake was something he had to do.

But Namjoon had an idea. Perhaps not a bright one but it was an idea alright.

Deathbell had similar properties to Nightshade, and Namjoon happened to have some stored away. Perhaps it could give off similar effects? He was naturally curious and wanted to experiment with this possibility. Excitedly, he poured water into the cauldron and grabbed the ingredients he needed off the shelves. While he waited for the water to boil he found himself zoning out while staring at the tiny bottle of dried Deathbell flowers.

”It’ll be alright won’t it?” he thought to himself.

“Well, I can only hope for the best now. Let’s get to work!”, Namjoon exclaimed.

————————————------------------------------------------------------------------

Jungkook was slowly opening his eyes but they went wide as he began to panic. His heart almost jumped out of his chest; he had forgotten why the world was so... big.

“Right, Joon got me into this mess…”, he thought to himself.

He couldn’t stay mad at Namjoon though. Jungkook saw him as endearing. Even his clumsiness made his heart pitter-patter. Deep down he worried he’d stay like this forever. He would have to close the shop down but most importantly he wouldn’t get the chance to tell Namjoon how he felt about him. Not that he couldn’t- but a human and a rabbit wouldn’t exactly work…

Jungkook’s small nosed quivered as he sniffed the air. It smelled good. What was Joon making? The scent was pleasant, it was making Jungkook hungry. The bunny shook the red blanket off of his body and clumsily hopped down onto the wooden floor. Once he hopped his way around the couch he immediately saw Namjoon in the kitchen. He had a black apron on which hugged his figure rather nicely. His hair was pushed back and his skin was glowing with sweat. Most importantly he was HUGE.

Namjoon was in the middle of stirring the potion when he spotted the black bunny on the living room floor. He gently placed the ladle down on a cloth and began to walk over towards Jungkook. His little heart was pounding with every thundering step Namjoon took towards him. He smiled down at the bunny and then picked him up.

“Hey Jungkook, I think I found a solution to your problem”, he hummed.

“O-oh really? T-that’s great”, Jungkook stuttered. He was so close to Namjoon, he could feel his warmth radiating into his small body. It made his heart beat faster than he thought his tiny body could handle.

“Are you okay Kookie?”.

Oh, how he loved being called that.

Namjoon noticed the bunny wasn’t saying anything so he set him down onto the kitchen counter. “You were out for a good while. About four hours? Luckily the potion is almost ready”. That was good news in Jungkook's eyes. The sooner he can get out of this mess the sooner he can go back to his shop and daydream about Namjoons visits. He’d get around to confessing eventually.

“Are you hungry?”, Namjoon asked.

“Yes actually”, He replied shyly. Jungkook hadn’t realized how famished he actually was. He could eat an entire field of grass right about now.

Wait grass?

Namjoon grinned and made his way over to the basket of fruits and vegetables he had lying on his countertops. He grabbed a carrot and a cucumber and brought them over to the cutting board. The bunny watched as namjoon took a sharp knife and attempted to cut the cucumber and carrots into manageable pieces. The end result was bits of uneven and jagged cut vegetables but they were small enough to eat.

“Cucumbers and carrots have never looked so appetizing before”, Jungkook gleamed.

“Yeah, well I supposed that was what a bunny would enjoy eating”, Namjoon chuckled.

“Please, help yourself”.

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He started going at the vegetables, loudly chewy on the crunchy bits of carrot. The cucumbers felt cool and refreshing against his tongue. True bliss.

Namjoon watched the bunny as he crunched desperately on the vegetables. It was adorable how his cheeks would scrunch up and down as he chewed. He was almost starting to wish he could keep Jungkook like this forever.

“He would finally be mine”, he whispered softly to himself.

“Who would be yours?” Jungkook squeaked.

Namjoon’s face lit up red as he stumbled over his words. “O-oh I f-forgot you could hear s-so well!” Jungkook‘s ears stood up in question. “Don’t worry about it bun bun, I was just murmuring some nonsense”.

“Bun bun?”, Jungkook gasped dramatically. As if he was truly offended.

Namjoon chuckled loudly. “I thought It was a fitting name!” Jungkook stuck his nose up in the air pretending to be offended. He actually liked the nick-name. He just didn’t want Namjoon to know that.

Next to Namjoon was the cauldron that was now beginning to bubble over. A purple foam like substance rising to the top.

“H-hey Joon i think the potion you’re brewing is going to spill over”. Namjoon immediately snapped his head over to the cauldron. He saw the liquid getting ready to pour over and quickly turned the heat down.

“Haha, well I guess the potion is done!”, Namjoon smiled embarrassedly.

He dipped the ladle into the cauldron and scooped up some of the potion up. Then he poured it into a small glass container that sat in cold ice water.

“Let’s wait for it to cool down before you try it okay?” Jungkook hummed in agreement.

“Oh by the way, before I can give you this cure I need to let you know something.”

What is it? Jungkook asked.

“Well, I didn’t exactly have all the right ingredients to make this. There’s a flower I need but it is very hard to come by-“

“So you didn’t add it in, I'm assuming” Jungkook interrupted.

“Yes but also no… I used a flower called Deathbell. Its properties are almost exactly the same, the only difference is their appearance. I used it as a substitute in hopes that the effect will still be the same. It’s understandable if you don’t want to take a chance but in order to get the Nightshade flower, I'll have to travel to a far place. I may not even be able to get my hands on it. Which of course, means the shop is going to be closed forever and you’ll be.... Well you know.”

Jungkook contemplated in silence. Of course he wanted to be human again but what if it went wrong. And if he didnt take the chance, he could stay this way forever. He felt his mind turning to mush, unable to think of what choice he should make.

“You know kookie, if you do decide to try the potion, there's nothing in it that would make your situation worse. The only bad thing that could happen is well- nothing at all!” Namjoon said enthusiastically.

He was right. It was better to take the chance of potentially being cured rather than having Namjoon travel across the country in an attempt to find a flower that might not even be there.

“Okay I’ve decided to go through with it”, Jungkook said confidently.

“Wonderful”, Namjoon grinned.

He grabbed the small bunny and placed him on the floor. Then he took the tiny potion bottle out of the bowl of water and brought a spoon up to the opening. The purple liquid poured onto the spoon until there was nothing left in the bottle. Namjoon carefully got onto his knees right in front of Jungkook and presented the spoon to his face.

“Try your best to drink it all up okay?”

Jungkook nodded.

He began to lick at the spoon. Trying his best to get everything into his mouth. Soon the spoon was spotless. Not a single drop left. The boys sat in silence, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did.

“I don't think it worked Joon”, Jungkook sighed.

“I suppose not”, Namjoon frowned.

They both were quiet for a moment until Namjoon broke the ice.

“I’ll start packing tomorrow morning so we can leave by mid-day. Hopefully the Elder Witch will be kind enough to help us out. And Jungkook, you're going to have to come with me. I can’t leave you alone in this form. It’s too dangerous”.

“I agree”, Jungkook squeaked as he looked around the gigantic room.

“Well it’s pretty late already, we should probably go to bed”, Namjoon said.

Jungkook agreed. “I am still a little tired. A full night’s rest would do me no harm. Maybe it would even stop my head from racing and my heart from beating so fast”.

Namjoon frowned, saddened by how his friend was put in this situation because of him.

“Alright let’s go to my room then”, he said.

“Y-your r-room?”, jungkook spluttered.

“Of course, I’m not going to let you sleep out here by yourself, so come with me”, he said softly. Namjoon stretched out his arms until his fingertips were at Jungkook's paws. The bunny hesitantly hopped onto his palms and was then lifted up into Namjoon’s strong arms.

Namjoon walked to his bedroom and opened the door with one arm, holding on to Jungkook with the other. The bunny began sniffing the air as soon as they were inside. His little nose twitched as he breathed in Namjoon’s scent. The entire house smelled like him but this room had the strongest scent.

He set the small bunny onto the fluffy bedsheets and walked over to his wooden wardrobe to grab a pair of pajamas. “I’ll be back Kookie. I need to shower first. Uh- I don’t suppose you would want to shower right now would you?” Jungkook shook his head furiously.

“Right, I thought so”, he chuckled.

Namjoon left the room and now it was only the small bunny. His dark eyes peered around his surroidnings. The bedroom was nicely decorated and it fit Namjoon’s personality well. There were multiple plants sitting on his window sill and in the corner of the room was his desk. On it was an opened jar of black ink with a feather pen laying beside it. All of his furniture was made out of light wood including the bed frame. The bedsheets were completely white and soft to the touch. Jungkook couldn’t help but roll in them.

A few moments had passed and Jungkook was beginning to drift into sleep. Suddenly he could hear footsteps down the hallway and soon after the door opened. Jungkook immediately stood awake. Standing at the door frame was the tall and handsome Kim Namjoon with his soaked blonde hair and plaid red pajamas.

Jungkook gulped nervously. If he were human at this moment, the blush on his face would surely be visible. Namjoon ruffled his hair with the towel he had on hand then spoke.“Sorry to wake you up, bun.”

“N-no, it's okay. I wasn’t fully asleep yet” Jungkook said, his voice soudnign higher than it already was.

Namjoon smiled and his half moon eye made an appearance. “You are so cute like this Kookie!” Jungkook giggled, he was happy to make Joon smile after such a long and stressful day.

Namjoon walked over to the right side of his bed and lifted the sheet. He made himself comfortable then motioned his hand to make the bunny come over. Jungkook’s body began to move on its own until he was right next to Namjoons face.

Jungkook huffed. “It’s unfair you can use your magic while I can’t!”

“I know I know, I'm sorry.” Namjoon looked jungkook in the eye. “I promise i'll do everything I can to turn you back into a human.” Jungkook could tell he was being sincere. He realized just how bad he probably felt about his mistake. It wasn’t a complete bummer though, at least he got to sleep next to his favorite person tonight.

Namjoon snapped his fingers and the light on his nightstand went out. The boys closed their eyes and soon enough they drifted away into a warm and deep sleep.

The morning quickly arrived and light filtered through the white sheer curtains hanging on the window. Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open and the first thing he saw was a naked Jungkook soudnly sleeping next to him.

A/N Yeah I used flowers from Skyrim what of it.

And im sorry if there are some mistakes I only proofread it once; I’m lazy.

Also, if you have any constructive criticism you’d like to share with me, please do. I am always seeking improvement.

#bangtan #namkook #bts namkook #witchbts #bts witch au #witchnamjoon #witch jungkook #fluff #namkook fluff #eventual smut #bts #bts au #namjoon x jungkook #bunny hybrid jungkook #jungkook hybrid #bts fanfction #bts fanfic

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rosethornewrites · 4 years

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Fic: Catch a Falling Star

Relationship: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Characters: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Tags: Mentioned Alya Césaire and Nino Lahiffe, Mentioned Lila Rossi, Crushes, loss of friendship, Balcony Trope, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, ml salt, Mentioned Juleka Couffaine, Naive Adrien Agreste, Lila Rossi salt, Crying, Revelations, Marinette Dupain-Cheng Needs a Hug, Hugs

Summary: Adrien has been worried about Marinette, as she slowly walls herself off at school. He decides to pay her a visit as Chat to find out what's wrong, and learns more than he's bargained for. Set the night before the events of the s3 episode Ladybug. Spoilers for that and Kwamibuster.

Notes: This was my first Miraculous Ladybug fic, written back in October. Might be a bit derivative but I couldn’t get it out of my head. The song “Catch a Falling Star” was stuck in my head while writing and had an impact on the fic. I don't normally write in third person present tense, but I kept lapsing into it and gave up.

AO3 link

Part of the Catch a Falling Star series

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Chat is always a bit torn on how he feels on nights he patrols alone. On the one hand, he is bereft of Ladybug. On the other, it gives him time to visit a certain bakers’ daughter for talking and treats—which he desperately needs given he is burning off far more calories than he is taking in; model diets are awful. He likes their discussions, how open she is with him as Chat rather than Adrien.

Tonight, though, he’s a little worried, which is another reason he's stopping by. Adrien has noticed Marinette isn’t her bubbly self lately. She seems to go through the day almost slouched, too subdued. The warmth she usually shares with the world is just… gone. It had slowly leeched away.

She’s curled on a lawn chaise, wrapped in a blanket with her head against her knees when he lands. And when she looks up at the sound, he realizes she’s crying. Not just a little, either, her face red, eyes puffy, their light dull.

“Princess...?”

Chat is too shocked to move. He’s never seen her like this, or anywhere close to this. She has always been so strong, someone who carries everyone around her when they need a hand. He hadn’t thought she could break like this.

Marinette wipes at her eyes with a sleeve and attempts a smile that’s barely a shade of her usual brightness. Even that fades too quickly.

“I’m s-sorry, Chat… I…” She’s silent for a moment, her lower lip quivering. “I’m not g-good company tonight.”

The despair in her voice unfreezes him, and he quickly settles beside her.

“What’s wrong, Princess?” He settles an arm around her, pulling her close.

She lets out a hiccuping sob, hiding her face against her knees again. “I c-can’t do it anymore. I can’t k-keep being strong.”

Chat rubs her back in slow circles, hoping to soothe her. “What happened?”

Marinette shakes her head. “I d-don’t want to b-bother you with stupid collège drama, kitty.”

Collège drama, meaning something at school. What has Adrien missed? He tries to think of how he might get her to share, then remembers her genius as the adorable Mouse Miraculous holder.

“It’s hurting Multimouse. Superhero business.”

She peers up at him, not looking too impressed. “Former. Remember? I messed that up, too.”

“But you were amazing, and you deserve better than what’s making you cry.” Chat’s brain takes a moment to catch up with her sentence. “What do you mean, ‘too’? Don’t people call you their everyday Ladybug?”

“Not anymore.” It’s barely a whisper. “I’m jealous, petty, and a bully.”

Chat cups her cheek gently, careful with his claws, tilting her face until she’s looking at him. “You? Never.”

She avoids his gaze.

“Princess, if I hadn’t seen you as Multimouse, I’d be convinced you were my Lady!”

Marinette actually huffs at that. “Not likely. I’m just boring old Marinette.”

“You are anything but boring.”

She just shrugs, despondent. It’s as though all the fight has gone out of her. She’s gone from Marinette to a marionette, and he has to find out why.

“Who made you feel this way?” Chat wants to yeet whoever it was into the next decade.

A ghost of determination crosses her face, and she leans away. “It’s not important, kitty. It’s not like it’s an Akuma.”

Chat leans with her. “But you could be Akumatized. And honestly, Princess, that’s terrifying. I think you could beat Ladybug and me--you’re creative and smart enough to. And I don’t want to fight you.”

“I’ve fought them off,” she murmurs.

His jaw drops. “You’ve… They’ve come for you?”

Aside from himself, Marinette is the only one in their class who hadn’t been Akumatized. He expected her to laugh at the idea, but… he’s absolutely serious about the idea being terrifying.

She pulls her limbs around her tighter, making herself smaller. “A few times.”

Few meant more than once, more than twice. He draws in a sharp breath, horrified. “Princess…”

“They go away if you remember you’re not helpless.” She looks up at him suddenly, her eyes wide. “Ladybug told me.”

“I don’t want them coming for you at all,” Chat tells her firmly.

Marinette looks away again. “I’m sorry. I’m not as good as you think I am, Chat.”

He pulls her closer as she starts crying again. “You are, but you’re also human. M’Lady is also human, and I’m sure she’s had the same thing.”

Chat immediately hopes she won’t ask if he’s faced it, but what she does say is worse.

“It’s… getting harder to remember I’m not alone. That there are options. I d-don’t know if I can keep—” She breaks off with a sob. “It’s t-too much.”

It might not be the best move, pulling her in his lap and letting her sob against his chest. It might be inappropriate. But if he was as upset as her, he would want the contact, so he risks it, murmuring soft nonsense to her until her sobs turn to soft tears again. It reminds him of holding Ladybug, the few times she’s ever been upset, and he doesn’t want to think about that—he so wished Marinette was her.

“Tell me?” he asks softly. “Letting it out to a friendly ear can help sometimes.”

Chat can feel in her body language when she relents, and he waits for her to gather her thoughts.

“I’m really not a good person,” she starts, and he has to stop himself from interrupting. “A while back, a new girl came to school, and was getting really friendly with someone… someone I liked. I followed them, because I really was jealous.”

Marinette is too kind to give him Lila’s name, but of course he knows it anyway. She sniffles, leaning her head against Chat’s chest, and he winds up learning how his father’s book disappeared—Lila had stolen it and thrown it in the trash—and Marinette had fished it out and even taken the blame when returning it to his father. She had even seen Ladybug confront the liar.

He hadn’t known she had done that for him, or that she had seen Ladybug yell at Lila for lying. Chat rubs her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

Marinette snorts. “That convoluted mess? He probably wouldn’t’ve believed me, and then A— that boy would be stuck at home instead of in school. He’s stuck like that enough already.” She shakes her head. “I just wanted him to be happy.”

He learns she knows about Lila’s Volpina Akumazation—and that she heard it happened again on Heroes Day. And her relief at the girl’s disappearance, even if it meant occasionally she Skyped and lied about where she was.

When Marinette falls silent, Chat pulls away slightly. “Princess?”

She curls in on herself again. “When she came back, she pretended to have disabilities. So Nino—another friend—gave her his seat at the front. But then he took my seat, and so everyone changed seats. But I guess no one wanted to sit next to me, no one cared where I’d want to sit. I wound up in the back. Away from my friends. Like I wasn’t important.”

Her voice is steadily getting softer, and Chat’s glad for his enhanced hearing. She tells him of the class turning on her when she asked why she was in the back, like she doubted Lila’s disability, her best friend accusing her of jealousy over a boy. He had the uncomfortable feeling it was over him—his civilian self, at least—regardless of what she had said at the wax museum.

Adrien doesn’t know what to do with that information. He adores Marinette; if not for Ladybug, he knows he would return her crush.

And then she tells him about being threatened in the bathroom. Chat stiffens—she didn’t tell him that before. He recalls his words to her at school, and knows now how wrong they were.

“That’s when I saw the Akuma, and I fought it off, and she became Chameleon.”

She falls silent again, and Chat feels he needs to say something. “So this is that Lila Rossi girl who keeps getting Akumatized.”

Marinette nods. “I don’t know why the Akuma would go after her—she wasn’t upset. She had me where she wanted me. But A— that boy I liked… he said I shouldn’t say anything about her lies anymore. That I should just let her lies reveal her eventually. Otherwise she might get Akumatized.”

“But what about you?” slips from his mouth before he can stop himself. He feels like a heel for giving her that advice without knowing the whole story.

Her lips twist in the sort of bitter smile that he’s used to seeing on Chloé. Not on her. It’s wrong on her.

“That’s what I wondered. I stopped saying anything, though. Because I’m an idiot and I liked him and I thought he had my back. But I wasn’t going to pretend to be friends with her or to believe her. I wind up lying enough—I’m not going to be an accessory to her lies.”

Chat blinks. Is that what he’s been doing? Being Lila’s accessory. “Are you angry with him?”

Marinette seems startled by the question and frowns. He can tell she’s weighing how she feels, considering carefully before she answers.

“I want to be,” she whispers. “It’d be easy. But he’s… naïve about how to deal with bullies. They don’t go away if you ignore them. They just get worse. But how would he know? He’s been homeschooled most his life and his only friend was Chloé Bourgeois, and she’s Queen Bully. And it took me years to stand up to her, so he… I guess he’s kind of the doormat I used to be.”

She falls silent again, and Chat waits for her to continue, considering her words as he does. She’s not wrong—he doesn’t know how to stand up to bullies. He’s only just learned to stand up to Chloé. A little, anyway. The “doormat” comment hurts, though, more than he expected.

“I can tell Lila makes him uncomfortable, touching and hanging on him like she does. Like he’s a possession. His smile is fake when that happens, but he doesn’t stop her.”

“He’s a boy, though. Aren’t guys supposed to like girls touching them?” Chat asks.

Marinette frowns up at him. “Kitty, it’s sexual harassment, any gender. Unwanted touching is actually sexual assault, too, even if it’s a girl doing it to a boy.”

She’s worried about him, he realizes. More than that, he’s never thought he has other options beyond grin and bear it with Lila and other girls. He’s never been told that’s not normal or acceptable behavior. He really is naïve.

Chat is also well aware that he pulled Marinette in his lap without asking. He shifts away from her a bit. “Is this okay, Princess? I didn’t ask, and—”

“Oh, kitty!” Marinette flushes and interrupts him. “You— I mean, you’re not— This isn’t—” She takes a deep breath. “You’re trying to comfort me, as a friend. Not trying to possess me. It’s not… not, um, sexual.”

Chat can feel his face heating, and knows he’s blushing himself.

“There’s a difference. I don’t think he knows that he can say no. He’s so sheltered, Chat. And I can barely talk to him so it’s not like I can help.” She sighs. “And Lila would make it a big thing if I did and I’d look like the bad guy again. I can’t help him when I can’t even help myself.”

Chat winces. He’s been completely unaware of her isolation, and he has no excuse for that. “Does he know that’s happening?”

Marinette shrugs. “I thought he had my back, that all that mattered was that we knew. But Lila started telling lies about me, making me look petty and heartless and cruel, and he hasn’t said anything. My best friend thinks I’m unreasonable and mean because I don’t want to be around Lila. I barely see my friends outside of school anymore.”

Chat is unprepared when her tears start again.

“So I guess she followed through on her threat. Maybe they weren’t really friends in the first place. Maybe they were just using me. Or they only want me when they need me. And only if I’m doing what they want. Only when I’m positive.”

He hugs her close, not sure what to say. He can’t understand why the class would treat her like this; Marinette has bent over backwards for them, always working to help. All Lila’s done is give them pretty stories.

“I wonder if he was ever a friend, or if he was just being polite.”

Chat goes still, horrified that he’s given her that impression as Adrien. But he’s never realized how much self-doubt she has; she hides it from everyone, and no wonder given what’s been happening. And he hasn’t stood up for her. He’s failed her.

“Maybe he thinks I’m annoying and mean and p-petty, too.” A sob breaks through, but she forces herself to keep going. “Maybe I never really saw him at all, just thought his smiles at me were real because I was infatuated with him. M-maybe he thinks I deserve this. Maybe I do.”

“You don’t deserve any of it.” Chat can’t stop the growl in his voice, and he takes a few breaths to calm himself. He’s made her feel this way, and he hates that. “Princess, you deserve so much better.”

She hugs him tightly, sobbing, and he holds her, resolving to change. To work to protect her. To be the friend she deserves but apparently doesn’t have. He let everyone abandon his everyday Ladybug, and now she’s full of self-doubt, a fallen star, because Adrien is inept.

Chat runs his clawed fingers through her hair, something he himself loves, something that comforts him, gently pulling loose the bands that keep it in pigtails, brushing through it. It takes a while, but she slowly calms. The way she’s relaxed against him, she’s close to sleep, but there’s more he wants to ask.

“Have you told your parents all this, Princess?” He’s limited in power, but he imagines her mom on the warpath could get things done.

Marinette shakes her head. “If things get worse, I might ask about… changing schools. Starting fresh.”

The idea chills him—school without Marinette, the very first friend he’d made on his own. He’d already felt the loss with her pulling away and into herself, staying distant and losing her shine. It’s what led to him coming here as Chat.

“You shouldn’t have to do that, Princess.” He realizes his hands have stopped, and he moves them closer to her scalp, brushing the skin.

“I know. But… it’s an option. Something that means I’m not helpless.” Her voice is a sleepy murmur. “Helps me against Akuma, maybe.”

He doesn’t like it, not at all, but it’s better than her being helpless to Hawkmoth. He never imagined she would be at risk of being Akumatized, but maybe he’d placed her on the same pedestal as he had Ladybug.

“What if you talked to that boy you like? Maybe he can help.”

She shakes her head, sinking more deeply against him. It occurs to him that their position together is almost… intimate. But he’s her friend, comforting her. Nothing more.

“I can’t… If he doesn’t believe me, I don’t think I could handle it.”

He wishes he could reassure her, but it runs the risk of revealing his identity. “I could talk to him? Make him see sense? Help him see you?”

“Kitty, don’t worry about it. It’s not worth it.” She sighs again as his hand grazes her ear and moves to the nape of her neck. “I don’t think I feel that way about him anymore. I wasn’t really healthy about it, anyway. I obsessed, I guess. I needed to stop. Maybe this was a wake up call. I’ve had a lot of time to think these past few weeks.”

She’s given up, he realizes. On him—or his civilian self, anyway. He doesn’t expect the tightness in his chest, the sense of loss that creeps through his body like the remnants of waves on a beach. Chat knows he should feel guilty that he’s cheated on his feelings for Ladybug, but he doesn’t. Rather, he’s amazed at the revelation that it’s possible to love more than one person like that at once.

Marinette is nearly asleep in his arms, and though he wants to keep holding her, she’s moved on. It isn’t fair to her for him to cling now just because he’s had a revelation.

“Let’s get you to bed, Princess. Wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”

He picks her up like the princess he sees her as, smiling as she loops her arms around his neck. He’s careful descending into her room, but once he’s fully in, he can’t move.

The pictures that once covered her walls are gone. All the ones of their friends, all the ones of him. The only two remaining are one picture of him in the pigeon hat, and another of him and Juleka modeling her designs. Replacing the rest are sketches of future designs. There’s nothing of Alya or Nino anymore.

“Kitty?”

“Just noticed you redecorated.”

He walks the few feet to her platform bed, gently easing her into it and pulling her sheets and blankets over her.

She manages a sleepy smile. “Treats on the desk under me. Take them.”

“I will.”

“Chat… Thank you. Talking did help.”

He reaches forward, burying his fingers in her hair again. She looks so different with it down.

“I’m glad,” he says finally. “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

He takes the plate of treats up with him, shutting the trapdoor behind him. Even after the treats are eaten, he finds himself still on her roof, engrossed in his thoughts. Only the distant chime of church bells indicating the late hour rouses him from his reverie, the tolls chasing him home.

Plagg is unusually quiet when he detransforms, letting him think uninterrupted.

He’ll change his behavior, starting tomorrow. Adrien will become the ally and friend she deserves. Not because it might rekindle anything—he doesn’t deserve it—but because he should have been one the whole time.

He doesn’t know it’s too late, that Lila’s plans will culminate in the morning with Marinette’s expulsion. That all he’ll be able to do is damage control after letting the liar’s claws dig into the school unchallenged for so long.

All he can do is try to help Marinette shine again, and never let her fade away.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfiction #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #balcony trope #lila 'the liar' rossi #lila salt #ml salt #miraculous angst #miraculous salt #my fanfiction

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steve0discusses · 3 years

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The Fullmetal Alchemist Live Action Movie Part 7: More Philosopher Stones than their PC Farm Can Possibly Render

So last we left off, a bunch of weird stuff was happening. Mustang just set Envy on fire, Lust and Gluttony kind of walked up from stage left, and Ed and Hawkeye just broke out of bougie jail and barged through a chain link fence on some Jeep. Good thing Mustang is here to explain it all to us:

(FYI I am so bad at spelling homunculus. I don’t even know which way is real anymore.)

What is incredible about this movie is just how much everyone else already knows, while Ed knows freaking nothing. Also, if you know about homunculi, then you know about sorcerer stones, and you’d know about...most of the things in Fullmetal Alchemist. Assuming that Mustang, who can look at a homunculus tattoo and be like “yep that’s a homunculus” doesn’t know anything else is kind of a big leap.

This actor had fun. I legitimately enjoy the actor who plays Mustang, I really do.

Anyway, we do get a little bit more explanation at this point by going back to the part where Hughes dies and just...showing it a second time but with this extra reveal:

(see Hughes die yet again under the cut because this movie did it not just once but twice)

It’s at this point that Hughes turns to the phone and in his dying breath is like “It’s lab 5, go to the old POW camp, at lab 5” but not only did I think that the person on the line was the general (Because Hughes originally said it was the general) apparently now the person on the line is...Mustang? And that’s why Mustang knew about lab 5?

Like it’s...it’s just kind of confusing. I know this plot because I’ve seen the anime, but if you have not seen the anime beforehand or read the books, you’d be so freakin up a creek right now about why we saw this scene twice, and why it was completely different both times.

To make things even more confusing, that whole Tucker side plot is so random, that not even our baddies know what is going on with that whole Tucker side plot.

Anyway we have to give Gluttony and Envy have to do something in order to make their presence make sense. Honestly Gluttony just needs to have a single line in this movie.

Just everything is that same shiny neutral Phong. Look at all that Phong. Like other parts of this movie are passable, this was just so hilariously overlooked.

And like I dunno if this was a teeth harness or not but damn. Damn that looks stupid from the back, hahaha. He kind of lumbers slowly after these 9 dudes (same extras we’ve seen everywhere else, ps—this is still just the same guys) and it’s not all that scary because like...they can easily outrun him. The only way you can die to Gluttony is if you trip and then take a nap for a little bit.

Mustang gets hurt and it’s kind of funny how they shot it. It was actually rough to cap because they have to do so many tricks to not show us exactly what is happening, so they rely on sounds, on zooming in on people’s shocked expressions, because they Do Not Have The Budget to do more than this.

I don’t remember if this happened in the anime, too. Like from this point forward everything is kind of like “can you spot the source material?” because it’s just become so jumbled at this point.

Ed, who as you can imagine is a bundle of emotions by default, suddenly gets really protective of his mean Dad although like...we’ve barely made Mustang seem like a Father. Hell, we’ve barely made Ed seem like a kid. Why would he get weird and conflicted now?

Just the awkward teenage energy that only occasionally stems off of Ed is very unpredictable.

This is a full grown man.

Finally, we make it to Lab Number Five, the correct one this time. It’s got an alchemy circle…

It’s got a ceiling full of...zombie corpses, if you squint real good because I have to shrink all these images (Yes, they fit in the zombie corpses, but could not fit in the North or Father or Ling Yao or like anything Armstrong) It’s got everything that we need to put that nail into that Fullmetal Alchemist coffin, but ran out of time to fully explain or do.

It’s even got Al!

Yep, this is happening now, this part of the show. Ed is just having a WILD TIME trying to keep up with it and so are we.

So apparently Shou could just turn Al “off” this whole time. This explains why Al was just chilling under a blanket for 36 hours, but like...doesn’t really explain how Shou can do this or why he is bothering to do it right now.

But we need Shou because...well someone has to tell Ed what the plot is and what he should be doing at this very moment.

(Winry is here too)

So, with the threat of Winry getting shot in the head, Shou Tucker demands that Ed make it impossible to do any magic, because magic is very expensive and hard to animate. I could be wrong...but I’m pretty sure he also took off his right arm in the show at some point nearish to the end...I think? Forgive me, everything before 2020 is kind of a haze in my memory.

PS him ripping his hand off with all these sparks everywhere gave me serious Star Wars prequel vibes that I can’t explain. Something about the CGI, something about this contrived mess was like “Ah, I’ve felt this insanity before...long ago in a simpler time” and it was kind of nostalgic for me.

GOL LOOK AT THAT.

This Mickey Mouse glove just hot chilling on that sparking end. Hahaha I love it so much!

Shou just...delivers one of the most important reveals, sending Ed on a bit of a spirit journey because the stones he’s wanted for so long are actually very bad.

As you can imagine, because Ed likes to freak out, he has a big ass freak out, to top all freak outs. This actor spent like sooo much of his time just screaming at the ground. Which, I mean this is a shonen, so that checks out.

I’m just letting you know in case you decide to watch this movie and you have some epilepsy issues--skip this part. Just skip it. I don’t personally have it, but like...they went kind of extra in this part.

Now unlike the show, this movie has like...no apology for Dr Marcoh. Freakin stabbed him through the chest and was like “I don’t care if it means we can’t have the original FMA ending I freakin hate this guy” and you know...good on you, movie. Dr Marcoh was a really bad person. Thank you for not even attempting to justify this godawful man.

This crazy ass fanfiction movie.

Anyway, Shou directs Ed to look 10 feet up to get the rest of that juicy content. That Juicy FMA DLC that was within eye distance this entire time but youknow...cropped offscreen so it just didn’t exist.

Can’t believe this wasn’t the FIRST THING you’d notice when coming into this room, since Ed has been hardwired for red stones for like 10+ years. But youknow.

Anyways, we’re getting a ton of visual elements from FMA, just checking off that check list here in the last 1/3 of the movie. But wait, it gets weirder.

What I love about this is that Shou tells us all of this stuff because I guess Ed asked for Philosopher stones once, and even Shou is like...heyyy I figured it out! But like...hell would anyone even want to do this though?

Because that’s what happens when you have Shou freakin Tucker reveal the big master plan when he is not the big master. Like this explains nothing about Father, about Ed’s Dad, about the homunculi, about the corpses in the ceiling, like there’s just no explanation, other than just –“hey! Look at this atrocity I found just now!”

There is actually a horror element to that, where you don’t need to explain everything if you’re doing horror. If this were a horror movie, this would probably...be fine. You could have a fully explained movie by just saying “they turned POW camp people into rocks and now the zombies are here!” and that would be fine.

But it’s just...that isn’t this movie. I had so many expectations. And honestly...I expected way too much from 1.5 hours of content.

So Shou pulls a gun on Ed, which makes sense. Ed is lookin to make stones, and if stones are made out of people—then it’s time to kill Ed. First thing that make sense in this movie, but I don’t know if it makes sense coming from Shou freakin Tucker who made it seem like he just wanted to kill Ed because Ed got him arrested that one time.

It may have been just the translation on my end but like...Shou’s reason for pulling a gun out here was a little nonsense. But Shou himself is already a little nonsense anyway.

So we say goodbye, for the last time, being honest—he’s fully dead—he’s not coming back—to Shou Freakin Tucker. You were a mess Shou. I won’t miss you.

And if I forgot that this guy comes back, I fully apologize ahead of time, but I am 99% positive that I remembered that this guy never comes back.

(He might come back.)

And then Lust is like “Hakuro why did you do that? Like what are you even doing???”

And everyone else is like “Oh, the General. Of course. Why didn’t I uhhh….see that coming?”

Because they had to condense a whole bunch of corrupt Generals for this movie into one character, and so I guess Hakuro took it for the team?

Also these guys are here.

Just every single person standing in this room is pretty confused, as you can imagine. No one really expects to open up Volume 2 of FMA and it’s accidentally printed the last page of the entire series.

Anyway, that’s all for this 15 minutes (It was actually a little short 15 because there was ton of caps) I’m very tired because I did this workout routine with bro that was like 300 squats and I don’t know what day it is. I wrote “update blog” in my bullet journal (because it’s January, so I’m bullet journaling) so I’m just gonna do that because I want to use this green sparkly jelly pen and cross off all of today. Mm. Satisfying.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono

#FMA #Fullmetal alchemist the live action movie #live action #fullmetal alchemist #recap #photo recap #ed elric #al elric #though putting al as a credit in this one seems like a stretch cuz he just freakin sat there the whole time #hawkeye #colonel mustang #maes hughes #shou tucker #just can't have enough shou tucker #Can you even believe that this went so quickly when I finally just did it? Amazing. Amazing how little productivity I had last year wow.#Hopefully this year I can get this blog back up to old productivity #we'll see what happens because it's still a bit of a weird situation outside

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

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Geyarajan (Gandharva)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Human/Male Gandharva Additional Tags: Exophilia, Gandharva, Childhood Sweethearts, Puppy Love Content Warnings: Blood, Broken Limb, Separation, Memory lapse Words: 4600

A commission for @floral-and-fine, who did the lovely artwork above of Geyarajan! An angsty story about childhood love that gets torn apart by family, race, and circumstance! Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

In Hinduism, the Gandharvas are male nature spirits and husbands of the Apsaras, the spirits of clouds and air. Some are part animal, usually a bird or horse. They have superb musical skills; they guard the Soma and make beautiful music for the gods in their palaces. Gandharvas are frequently depicted as singers in the court of the gods.

Gandharvas in the historic sense acted as messengers between the gods and humans; today they are depicted as imitators, cheaters, liars and those who have tricked themselves 'into being god'. In Hindu law, a gandharva marriage is one contracted by mutual consent and without formal rituals.

You couldn’t remember exactly how old you were, perhaps six or seven, when you first met Geyarajan. You’d heard singing in the forest as you played in the garden behind your house, and though you knew you shouldn’t go into the woods alone, you couldn’t ignore the draw of the sound. After maybe ten minutes, you stumbled upon a clearing wherein a boy was singing, though he was unlike any other child you’d ever met.

Your village was human only; beasts and monsters were not allowed to settle there. In fact, non-human merchants were discouraged from selling their wares in the area and non-human travelers weren’t welcome in the taverns or inns. In your short life, you’d only seen a person who wasn’t human maybe twice, and only in passing. You didn’t quite understand why, but you were a small child and didn’t think to question it.

Not until you met Geyarajan. When you first saw him, you were mesmerized by his music. You sat and listened as still as a statue, afraid of spooking him, except when he stopped singing, he looked right at you and smiled as if he’d been waiting for you to come. He hopped off the rock where he had been sitting, and you got a better look at him.

He wore no clothing, but from the waist down, he was all feathers. His legs were long and spindly, ending in three-toed claws like that of a purple heron. The feathers extended up his back to his large wings, heather-grey in color, which were folded at rest behind him.

His hair was long and falling around his shoulders in ringlets, the same heather-gray as his feathers. He had a four streaks of black, two on each side, running down his neck, one stripe down his arms to his wrists, the other down the inside of his shoulders and disappearing into the feathers near his hips. His skin was dark brown and his eyes were sharp in shape, amber-gold in color, and hawk-like.

Though he was much taller than you because of his long legs, in his face, he looked to be about your age, perhaps slightly older. He was slender and graceful in his movements, taking careful steps toward you as if not to scare you, though you didn’t think you could possibly be afraid of him.

“Aren’t you from the village?” He asked, his speaking voice as musical as his song suggested. “Won’t you be in trouble for coming into the woods? My parents say that humans are scared of the woods.”

“I’m not scared,” You said, puffing up. “Papa says I’m a big girl. I can go to the corner store all by myself now. I only came ‘cause I heard you singing.”

“Oh,” He said, frowning. “I must be too close, then. I should go.”

“Wait!” You reached out, grabbing his hand. “Stay and play with me, won’t you? What’s your name?”

“Geyarajan,” He replied, not attempting to break away from your grasp. “You’re the girl who lives in the house near the river, right? What’s your name?”

You told him. “How do you know me?”

“I’ve seen you sometimes,” He said, leading you to the rock where he was sitting before. There was a bushel of flowers laying there. He began to weave them into a ring. “When I fly above the town. I know you from the ribbons.” He tugged at the blue ribbon you wore in your hair, which matched your pristine dress. Your mother insisted on dressing you like a doll, always making you wear frilly dresses and putting ribbons in your hair.

“You can fly?” You whispered in awe.

“Well, sure,” He laughed, fluffing his wings a little. “These aren’t fake, you know. I have to fly pretty high, so the only thing I can see of you clearly is the ribbons.”

“Why do you fly so high?” You asked him.

“Mother says it’s too dangerous to fly too low over the town,” Geyarajan said. “She says the people don’t like us, that they’d be mean to us if they knew we lived in the forest next to them.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. If it’s dangerous, why don’t you move?”

“Our kind lived in these woods before those humans ever settled here,” He said, pointing toward the village. “Why should we have to leave?”

“That makes sense, I guess,” You admitted. “I don’t see people like you in town. It’s only humans. I don’t know why.”

“Mother and Father say it’s because humans hate us,” He said morosely, looking at his hands as he continued to weave the garland. “Do you hate us?”

“No!” You said. “You’re so pretty! Can I… Can I touch your wings? I’ve never met a person with wings before.”

He regarded you warily, but said, “Okay, but only for a minute. Mother says our wings are a sign of divinity, that they make us holy.”

“Divine? Like an angel?”

“What’s an angel?”

You tried to explain what an angel was to him, but he just looked confused.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Do you want to touch my wings or not?” He asked impatiently.

“Yes, yes!” You exclaimed. You reached out tentatively and ran your fingertips gently down his proffered wing. He watched you carefully, his hands stilling in their work.

“Wow,” You breathed. “It’s so hard to believe they’re real.”

“Well, they are,” He sniffed, eyeing you. “It’s weird.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’ve never met a human, but my parents said they’re all cruel and heartless. They call your kind monsters, but you seem nice.”

“I am nice,” You replied. “I’m friends with everyone in town. I want to be your friend, too. Can I call you Rajan?”

“Why?”

“It’s a nickname!” You said. “It means we’re friends.”

“Oh,” He replied. “Yeah, I guess so. Can I give you a nickname?”

“Sure!”

“Alright, how about…” He looked around for inspiration and his eyes fell on the flowers in his lap. There were wild daisies, coneflowers, purple poppies, blanket flowers, black-eyed susans, and blush-pink primroses. “What about Primrose?”

“I love it!” You said excitedly. “Primrose and Rajan.”

Rajan giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“Well, my whole name, Geyarajan, means ‘king of songs,’” He replied, finishing the crown of flowers and placing it on his head. “But Rajan just means ‘king.’”

You giggled too. “I like that! You can be the king of the primroses! It’ll be a kingdom just for us!”

“Sounds fun!” He said. “Let’s play Kings and Flowers, then!”

“That’s not a real game!”

“Is too! I just made it up!”

The two of you played until it started to get dark, then Rajan escorted you home. He stopped about thirty feet away from the treeline, where you could hear your mother calling.

“I can’t go closer,” He said, still wearing the flower crown. He took it off and placed it on your head. “You should run home now. I’ll watch you to make sure you stay safe.”

“Alright,” You said brightly, standing on your tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you again soon!”

He blushed and touched his cheek, frozen. You laughed joyfully and ran back to the garden behind your house.

“There you are!” Your mother shouted as you came out from around the house. “Where have you been? Look at the state of your dress!” She fussed. “It’s ruined! Do you know how long it took me to sew that?”

“Just make me a normal dress, Mama,” You said. “A plain one I can play in.”

“Nonsense,” Your mother said, taking your hand. “I’ll not have my daughter wallowing in the muck like some street urchin. To the bath with you!”

As she dragged you along into the house, your lovely flower crown slipped from your head and floated away on the breeze.

“Oh, Mama, my crown!”

“Leave it,” She said.

“Oh, but it was--” You stopped short before saying a present. You didn’t want your mother asking from whom. You watched as it floated into the road and was trampled by a passerby. Sighing with disappointment, you followed your mother inside.

Geyarajan became your best friend from that day on. You had to be careful, though; you couldn’t go too deep into the forest for fear of dangerous creatures and he couldn’t get too close to the village, or he’d be seen and possibly captured by the townspeople. As such, you could only see each other once a week or so, and on the days you agreed to meet, often you’d sneak out to play for a few hours after bed.

Having a secret friend was thrilling. It made you feel special and important. He’d told you that he hadn’t told his parents about you, either, because he didn’t want them to be mad at him for getting so close to humans. It was as if the pretend kingdom the two of you built together was real, and you were the only two in it.

It didn’t take long at all for you to develop a crush on Geyarajan, and it seemed to be mutual. He always held your hand whenever the two of you walked together and you often gave him quick pecks on the lips to see the surprise and delight on his face. It was the pure, innocent love of childhood, and though your time together was limited, you were both happy.

Of course, secrets are never meant to last.

Time passed. One evening when you were eleven, after you’d snuck out to see him, the two of you were stargazing in a clearing, making up constellations, your fingers intertwined loosely.

“See there,” He said. “That’s the raven. It’s good luck.”

“Who says?” You asked, laughing.

“I say!” Rajan said. “I’m a king, aren’t I?”

“Oh, right,” You replied. “Papa calls that the eagle. And that’s the dog star.”

“Why do they call it the dog star?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “Tell me another one.”

He squinted. “I can’t see it all that well from here. I usually look at the stars from up in the trees. It’s harder to see them all clearly on the ground like this.”

“How high up do you go?”

“The top, obviously,” He said, sitting up and pointing straight up to a nearby oak tree. “The tallest, strongest branch. That’s the best place.”

“I’d be scared to go that high,” You said, shivering a little.

“I could help you,” He said. “I’d fly you up there.”

“Aren’t I too heavy?” You asked him skeptically. “I was the last time you tried to lift me.”

“That was a year ago! I’m much stronger now.” He hopped to his taloned feet and flexed his skinny arms. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

“Are you sure?” You asked as you took his hand.

“Come on, you trust me, right?”

You straightened up and smiled at him. “Yeah, of course I do.”

He grinned back. “I won’t be able to take off from the ground,” He said. “We’ll have to climb up a little ways so I can do a drop. I’m really good at those.”

You frowned at the thought, but since he knew way more about flying than you did, you didn’t argue. Swallowing down your nervousness, you followed him up the tree.

You hadn’t known how to climb a tree when you first met him; your mother had forbade such things. Geyarajan had decided immediately that it was inappropriate for anyone to be unable to climb a tree and taught you how to do it the second time you met. You got pretty scraped up the first few times, which you had a hard time explaining away. Now, you were an expert. You were even able to keep leaves and dirt off of your nightgown.

Of course, Geyarajan was much faster than you, since he’d been climbing trees before he could even walk. We was already on the branch he planned to launch from, waiting patiently for you to catch up. He wasn’t above heckling you, though.

“Are all humans as slow as you?” He teased. “I could be halfway to the coast by the time you get up here.”

You stopped for a moment to blow a raspberry at him. In the few seconds that you were distracted, you misstepped, your foot sliding out of your evening slipper and catching you off balance.

Geyarajan leapt, reaching out to catch you, but he was too late. You fell straight down, landing on your right leg. It snapped in half upon impact. The pain shot up your body and struck your brain, and you screamed like you never had before. Geyarajan landed next to you, panicking, trying to figure out what to do. You were crying too hard to speak.

“Hold on, Primrose, hold on,” He lifted you as carefully as he could and began to run through the woods. The pain and smell of blood made you violently sick. “I’m taking you home, just hold on.”

“No!” You managed to gasp. “You can’t go there!”

“I won’t be able to stay, but I can get you there, I promise,” He said.

“No!” You said, beginning to struggle, squealing as the movement made the pain worse. “They’ll kill you! You can’t go to the village!”

Geyarajan stopped in his tracks, breathing hard and looking toward the village and back into the forest.

“I’ll get into a lot of trouble, but there’s only one other place I can take you,” He said, sweating and shaking with fear. “Hold on to me. We’ll be there soon.”

What happened next was a blur of pain, color, noise, voices, and a terrible sick feeling throughout your body, the only familiar thing through all of it was the sound of Geyarajan’s voice and his hand holding yours. At some point, you blacked out completely.

You woke up to the sound of screaming. You were lying in the back garden of your own home, a large, grey feather in your hand, and your mother rushing over to you, checking you frantically.

“Oh, god, are you okay?!” She asked. “Where have you been? What happened to you?” She saw your leg and shrieked. “Who did this to you?!”

Her shouting had attracted the attention of several men, all of whom looked tired and held burned out torches. One of them dropped their spent torch and lifted you up, carrying you into the house. There was noise and shouting and confusion all around you, made worse by your mother’s constant shrill crying in the background. You let them do as they will in silence, clutching Geyarajan’s feather.

Your leg hurt, but nowhere as badly as it had before. You looked down and saw to your surprise that the leg had been wrapped set, wrapped in cloth to stem the bleeding, and was in a makeshift splint made of straight wooden rods and vines.

The physician was called and examined your leg. During this time, you learned you’d been missing for four days. The men with torches were part of the search party, tirelessly searching the woods for any trace of you. When they found blood on the grass and a fragment of your clothes, along with several large feathers, they thought some massive monster had gobbled you up.

The physician determined that your leg had been expertly set, however, meaning it was no monster that had taken you. Since you couldn’t remember most of your time missing, you kept silent, which made everyone grim-faced. They assumed the worst and decided someone had taken you and kept you in the woods somewhere, and you were so traumatized by the incident that you’d blocked the entire event out. You couldn’t exactly argue with them, but you knew Rajan would never hurt you. Not that you could tell them that.

The search began anew, only this time it wasn’t retrieval. It was revenge. You wished you could tell them that it wasn’t necessary, you wanted to stop them, but you couldn’t do anything without telling them about Rajan and his people, and you had promised never to do so. So you could only watch anxiously as the townsfolk worked themselves into a froth, looking for a predator that didn’t exist.

Bedridden and helpless to stop the villagers from their crusade, you spent many nights crying and wishing you could see Rajan. It was too dangerous now; you thought you wouldn’t see him for a long time. You were surprised when, a week later, Rajan came straight to your window late one night. He opened it and hopped down.

“Rajan!” You breathed, elated, and reached out your arms to embrace him from the bed. He stayed out of your reach. You couldn’t see his face well in this light, but his body radiated distrust.

“How could you?” He said whispered, pain seeping into his voice. “I thought you were my friend. How could you do this to me?”

You dropped your arms. “Wha… How could I what?”

“You know what!” He retorted angrily, his voice rising in anger. “You told them! You told the humans about us! You told them where to find us!”

“I didn’t!” You replied, stricken. “I would never, you know that! I never told them anything!”

“Liar!” He snapped. “Men came! They set fire to our colony! We have no home now because of you!”

You ignored the pain in your leg and swung around to sit up properly. “I didn’t tell them anything! I don’t even know where your colony is! I’ve never been there!”

“You’re lying! You were there! My parents cared for you, they fixed your leg! This is how you repay their kindness?”

“What?” You replied, confused. “I… no, I… I don’t… I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything. The last memory I have before waking up in the garden was you carrying me. We argued because I didn’t want you to come to the village. I was worried you’d get hurt--”

“Stop,” He said, raising a hand. “Enough of this. My parents were right. You can never trust a human.”

“Don’t say that! How could you have so little faith in me? We’ve been friends since we were little! I’d never do anything to put you or your family in danger, you know that! Why would I do that?”

The light from the moon caught his face, and the pain in his eyes stopped your heart.

“You tell me.”

He climbed up onto the windowsill, walked out on the roof, unfurled his wings, and took off. You fell to the ground with a loud thump. Your father came in to find you sobbing in anguish. He lifted you and put you back to bed, petting your hair and telling you it would be alright. But it wouldn’t.

You decided that once you were healed, you’d go and find Rajan and keep protesting your innocence until he believed you. You didn’t count on your parents’ plans.

Another week passed, and your mother came into your room.

“How are you feeling, love?” She asked.

You shrugged your shoulders. You’d been sullen and depressed since Rajan’s visit. Everyone assumed it was because of your disappearance and you made no attempt to correct them. The guilt of his family’s home being destroyed weighed heavily on your mind. If only you hadn’t tried to climb that tree.

“I’m sorry, darling,” She said. “I can’t believe monsters were living right next door to us in the woods. It’s become too dangerous in this place. Look at what they did to you!”

“They helped me!” You shouted. “They’re not monsters!”

Your mother rounded on you, her face pinching in suspicion. “How would you know that? What do you know about them?”

You scowled at her and remained silent.

“I knew you were lying when you said you couldn’t remember anything.” She stood up and looked down her nose at you. “That does it. We’re moving to Dunmountain.”

“What?!” You cried. “No! I don’t want to move!”

“The decision has already been made,” She told you, pulling out your luggage and starting to pack. “Your father and I can’t abide those disgusting creatures living so close.”

“But there are people like them in the city!” You argued.

“There are rules for them there,” Your mother said. “Most of them are ring fighters or laborers. They don’t practically nest in the backyards of decent people.”

“Who said you were decent?” You screamed. “You can’t make me go!”

“Who’s going to stop me?” She shouted back. “Your father has agreed. We’re going!” She threw your bag on the floor next to your bed. “Pack your things yourself!” With that, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you to weep bitterly into your blanket.

You had no choice. Within the month, you were all packed and in a wagon headed to the city. You had become withdrawn and quiet, unlike the girl you had been before. Your father worried over you, but your mother told you to suck it up and get over it. New city, new life, new start.

She was more right than she knew. In the city, you were a new person. The cheerful child that was friends with everyone she met was gone. You were shy, introverted, and taciturn, only speaking when spoken to. You found it difficult to make friends and were quick to tears.

Your mother, in an effort to desensitize you to “monsters,” took you to the gladiator’s ring and made you watch them fight each other. You hated it; the sight of them viciously attacking each other for no other purpose than to entertain humans made you physically ill.

As you got older, the people of your neighborhood began to call you the monster girl because of your tendency to go to the ring and talk to the fighters. Just talk. Some of them were willing participants, but there were others who were forced to fight. People with debt, criminals, the homeless, the mentally ill; anyone society deemed abnormal. Their jailers seemed to forget that they were still people.

You’d often sit outside of their cells and talk to them, comfort them, even write down messages to give to their loved ones. Your mother despaired of you, and the humans thought you were weird, but the creatures of the fighting ring called you an angel.

One day, when you were nineteen, there was a new arrival at the jail, a young woman with wings and bird feet. When you were told, you immediately went to see her first.

“Hello?” You called softly, tapping gently on one of the bars.

“Who are you?” She asked.

You told her your name. “I come here to talk to the fighters and help them when I can. What’s your name?”

“Aashiyana,” She replied. “You can help me?”

“I can try,” You replied. “Why are you here?”

“I caught a deer in a field near my home,” She said. “It was apparently owned by a nobleman or something. What kind of person owns a deer?”

“People with too much money,” You replied, laughing. “How long is your sentence?”

“Until my fine is up. Six months, I think they said.”

“How much is the fine?”

“300 gold.”

“That’s highway robbery!” You exclaimed. “Let me see what I can work out.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” She said. “This city is stifling. I hate it here.”

“So do I,” You replied, standing. You were about to turn and leave, but you were compelled to ask. “By any chance, do you know a boy named Geyarajan?”

Aashiyana sat up straighter and peered at you. “I did know a boy by that name, yes.”

Your heart hammered in your throat. “Did?”

“He doesn’t go by that name anymore. His name is Gaveshan now.”

“Why did he change his name?” You asked.

“How do you know him?”

“He saved my life years ago. He… was my friend.”

Her eyes widened and jaw dropped. “Are you Primrose?”

Your expression matched hers. “Yes! How did you know about that?”

“We met!” She said, her eyes lighting up. “Your leg was broken and my mother set it. She was the colony’s healer. You stayed in the colony with us until she felt it was safe to move you.”

“I don’t remember,” You told her. “I don’t remember anything. I was with Rajan when I broke my leg, and then I passed out. When I woke up again, I was back home and I’d been missing for four days. I don’t know what happened during that time.”

Aashiyana frowned. “You don’t remember me at all?”

You shook your head sadly. “I’m sorry. What happened to the colony?” You asked her, putting a hand on hers around the bars. “Rajan told me that it was burned, but he didn’t give me any details.”

“Men came out of the forest with torches. They set fire to everything. We had to flee with nothing. Some didn’t make it.”

“Oh, god,” You said, covering your mouth in horror. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t fallen out of the tree…”

“Did you tell the men how to find us?”

“No! I swear I didn’t! I don’t even remember being there!” You said. “I swear, Aashiyana, I swear on my life.”

He deep brown eyes searched yours for a moment, a discerning look on her face, and she said, “I believe you.”

Your face crumpled as the tears began to flow. “Thank you.” You wiped your face on a handkerchief and straightened yourself. “Let me see what I can do for you. I’ll get you out of here.”

“Thank you,” She said.

It took some time, but you managed to make a deal with the judge. It was a lucky thing that your parents were in good standing with the stadium, as your father was a financier, so you were able to pull a few favors. You returned to Aashiyana’s cell three days later and directed the jailor to open the door.

“What’s happened?”

“I’ve made a deal,” You said. “You’re free of the fighting ring, but in exchange, you must work. I’ve made arrangements for you. I’ll tell you about it once we’re in the carriage.”

“Carriage?”

You took her by the arm. “Come on.”

Outside the jail, a carriage was indeed waiting for you. You opened the door and assisted her in getting inside, as the steps weren’t built for her large claws, and got inside after her. The carriage began to move.

“So what deal did you make?” She asked.

“You are to be my personal servant for the remainder of your sentence.”

She balked. “What makes you think I want to be a slave any more than a punching bag?”

“I have no intention of giving you any order,” You told her. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll like you to take me to see Geyarajan. Or Gaveshan, I guess.”

“Do I have to stay with you?” She asked, eyeing you.

“Of course not,” You replied. “You’re free to go as soon as we get out of the city limits, as far as I’m concerned. I have no intention of ordering you around.”

“Can’t you get into trouble for this?”

“Of course. The penalty for assisting a criminal escape is taking their sentence plus five years.”

“If you know that’s going to happen when you come back, why would you do it?” She asked you, horrified.

“Simple. I’m not coming back.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Cry for Help

Colton and the Host, referenced in this piece, are OCs who belong to @shameless-whumper.

CW: Owen is a violent abuser, and in this update the violence comes out in a big way, both verbal and physical. Kauri is an abuse survivor with patterns of justification and affection. Features noncon touching, choking, violent abuse, referenced dubcon/noncon. Please be safe.

Tagging: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl

“‘I hope Owen gets arrested, that sick fuck.’”

Owen reads the words out loud, pronouncing each syllable altogether too clearly, the glass of brown liquor in his hand holding Kauri’s frightened attention where he sits on the floor next to the coffee table, eyes carefully averted from the laptop’s screen.

The Host had put up a new video, featuring some story someone had written about Colton and Kauri and put up on the internet - and Kauri’s day had gone from secretly exciting to terrifying with unsettling speed.

He'd liked the video of the Host and Colton reading, actually - liked the way Colton had gotten into it a little in the middle. It felt almost like talking to him, or maybe just getting to see him talk to someone else. He kind of wanted to hear the bits where they were kissing again, even if the ending was sad.

Kauri could overlook a sad ending, if there were parts in the middle where things were okay, and he got to kiss someone he actually wanted to kiss.

Not that he wanted to, um-

Kauri made himself stop thinking that way, worried Owen might notice his red face and ask oh, you like that fucking pet that much? And Kauri was a good liar, but not when he was caught off guard.

The thing was, Kauri had really liked the video - up until Colton got upset at the end, when Kauri couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting with the urge to somehow soothe someone from miles and miles away - but Owen hadn’t liked it. Not at all.

Normally he watched the videos at least three times the first day, but he'd only watched that video once. He'd muttered, he's my fucking property. I'm not the bad guy, here, you fucking hacks can't write for shit - how the fuck did they know about your weird bullshit with my Roomba? Shit, it has to be someone I know who wrote this.

Then he started drinking.

Owen is still drinking, hours later. He hasn't watched the YouTube video again. Instead, he's doing something far, far worse - reading the comments.

People had linked to other stories about them, too, sharing recommendations and favorites, and it seemed like all the writing made Owen furious.

All he would say about whatever he saw was like fuck you’d ever be that forward. Baking cookies… fucking nonsense. Besides, I’d never let him get anywhere near you.

Too late, Kauri kept thinking, again and again, trying not to betray a single thought with his expression. Inwardly he felt thrilled, defiant, like he was keeping the world’s biggest secret all to himself. Too late, he’s already gotten near me, too late, he is what I think my type was if my type was guys, I've been thinking about him when I'm with you, too late too late too late.

You don't know I can still feel the hug.

You don't know how many protocols I would violate.

Owen wouldn’t stop reading, and he wouldn’t stop drinking, and Kauri started to become afraid... especially when finishing one bottle turned into opening the second.

His defiant private thoughts turn slowly to silent pleading.

Please please please close the laptop. Please put the bottle away. Please stop being so angry.

But Owen just keeps reading, and drinking, and there's nothing to do but wait.

Now he’s wrapped in one of Owen’s soft blankets, wearing the cashmere sweater he’d worn to meet Karen Renford and fuzzy fleece-lined black pants. It's too warm for all those things but the bourbon in Owen’s glass keeps his blood running cold and if he lets the blanket fall, he starts to shiver.

“Kauri, listen to these fucking assholes. This lady used her actual name? How stupid can you be? Anyway, Michaela Tompson. ‘Poor kids. I used to like Owen Grant, but now I guess I will burn all merch.” Owen snorts, eyebrows furrowed in dark anger over his eyes.

Kauri watches the liquid slosh around in the glass, and feels the nearly-healed bruise on the side of his neck ache in what might be phantom pain, or maybe just getting ready for the future. He curls up a little tighter.

“Go ahead, Micaela, stop buying merch.” Owen spits the words at the woman who cannot hear him. “My money’s all in the fucking stock market now, you stupid bitch."

Next to him on the floor, Keira beeps four times, slow and soft, a question. Kauri reaches one hand out from the blanket to lay it on her warm plastic and metal exterior. She whirrs beneath his touch and he thinks it's like the feeling of a cat purring even though he doesn't know what that's like… does he?

He can’t take his eyes off the drink or the half-empty bottle on the table. Can't stop looking up towards Owen's face, reading the simmering, awful rage there and trying to predict when it will be turned in his direction.

I am going to get hurt tonight, but I don’t know how yet.

It's a horrible feeling, a sick drop of inevitability in his stomach that makes him want to flinch every time Owen moves.

He feels trapped, penned in, locked up with someone dangerous that he cannot run away from. He doesn't even want to run, not really. He just wants Owen to stop being so angry about nothing, go back to touching him like normal, to holding him on the couch and making him watch things that make him uncomfortable or nervous.

This is just words. It’s just stuff people wrote, it was just Colton's annoyed and wonderful red face in the video, it was just words, and Kauri only knows what they are when Owen says them out loud.

And then argues with them.

It's just words, that's all, but Kauri remembers knowing once upon a time how important words can be. Before they took words away from him.

Oh, pets don't read. It'd just give you ideas, Kor-Bore.

Colton still gets to read, though, and that means what Owen told him - that all pets aren’t allowed - was a lie.

Kauri tells Owen a lot of lies, but he’s beginning to wonder what Owen has lied to him about.

"Let’s see who else… Bennyshere99 said, ‘Who thought this senator’s brat is so miserable he needed to buy a living s*x toy?’ Man, fuck that asshole. That’s not what you are, is it, Kor-Bore?”

Kauri jumps when Owen says his name, jerking his eyes from the glass to Owen’s. The green is a little glazed over with alcohol, and he swallows against his fear and answers in the softest, sweetest voice he can manage. “N-No, Mr. Owen. I’m a Romantic Companion with Combination skillsets-”

“Or at least if you are, you're the best fucking toy money can buy. Can't find you next to some sticky fucking DVDs," Owen mutters, interrupting him, ignoring - or simply not caring about - the stricken look on Kauri's face.

It’s one thing to know you’re a designated Romantic Companion Box Boy. It’s another thing to hear yourself called a toy.

“‘He looks just like Daddy Shield-'” Owen’s voice cuts off, and his teeth grind together. “See, that's the one thing I don’t like about the Host, they have a thing for Vince just like every-fucking-body does now. They don’t know who he is at all, they don’t know he’s just a fucking tease. You know? I mean, I could tell them about him, but… no one gets it. He puts on that stupid Good Boy Next Door act and every-fucking-body buys it. He came on to me, Kauri. Then he has the fucking gall… I overreacted, sure, but he's the one who started it...” Kauri watches him take another drink, the way his throat shifts, Adam’s apple moving as he swallows another mouthful.

He is going to hurt me again.

Owen is safe.

Owen is safe and he hurts me… and for me those are the same thing.

“Let’s see… ‘How likely is it there would be some person in the Box Boy system that looks just like him? And Owen Grant is the one to buy him? Weren’t he and Vincent Shield dating or whatever way back when’-... we weren’t dating, you fucking assholes. Although we should have been, if it weren't for Vince. Did you know, Kor-Bore, he hasn't even dated anyone except that fucking fake girlfriend since he walked out on me? He knows, he knows we were meant to be together and he ruined it!" Owen's hand slams down in a fist on the coffee table hard enough to rattle the laptop and half-empty bottle.

The sound makes Kauri jump, his heart skipping a beat, eyes wide. When he shrinks into his blanket, Owen glances at him and smirks.

"What's your problem?"

"J-just surprised, Mr. Owen, that's, um, that's all," Kauri squeaks.

"Jesus, you're like a mouse." Owen leans over and his attempt to grab at Kauri's chin goes wide at first, before thumb and forefinger grasp hard enough to hurt, forcing Kauri's eyes up to his. "Good thing you're pretty, you don't have much else in there, do you?"

Kauri doesn’t nod, or shake his head. He only stares, wide-eyed, and that seems to be enough.

Owen looks at him, licking his lips, thinking. "You are pretty, though, all this bullshit these assholes wrote… they didn't get that wrong."

Kauri knows this look, this voice - normally it makes him a little sick at the same time his training kicks in to get him to tilt his head and smile and use your nonverbal cues, it's not like it's hard.

Please, please don't, I don't want to learn- Hands twisting in his hair, forcing him down until his chest is on the floor and his hips in the air, spinning with dizziness from last eating two days ago, staring down at the boots of his trainer, the pain of the shock collar when his legs don't spread fast enough, far enough. Please!

He knew Owen's look the first day he came here, knew to smile and look like he wanted it, because no one touched him anymore, he wanted someone to touch him.

Sometimes Owen's look made him sick. Tonight, he feels desperate for it.

Please, yes, that's better, that doesn't hurt and you'll stop drinking.

The moment of deliberation ends with Owen shoving Kauri's chin to the side roughly as he lets go, making him fall back a little so he has to catch himself with one hand to stay up. Then Owen ruffles his hair with a hand that slaps down too heavily on his head, painfully tangles on his curls, all but yanks his head to the side. He winces, biting his lower lip, but Owen doesn't notice or doesn't care.

"Well," he says, turning back to the screen, "Whatever happened with Vince… At least I have you now and you're not going anywhere... Let's see the next one... ‘I’m sure this position is just so he is easier to wash’. Ha, nice.” Owen smirks, glancing down at Kauri. “Easier after ess eee ex, am I right?”

Kauri’s face flames red when Owen winks, Kauri's hand under the blanket digging tightly into the fabric of the soft pajama pants over his thigh. The lurch of sickness in his stomach fights with the dizzy rush of shame for what he is and what he does and remembers, sometimes, that he doesn't want to do. “I, I don’t-”

“Oh shit, that’s literally the next comment! Great fucking minds.” Owen grins back at him, and then he barks a laugh that makes Kauri drop his eyes back to the floor. “Look at your face! Kor-Bore if you don’t think everyone knows what I keep you for now…”

Hold position, 645898.

Pl-please, you can’t just m-m-make people do this, you can’t!

I said hold position.

No! I won't!

Administer shock.

Kauri hears distant screaming inside his mind, his own voice, feels his hands twitch with the memory of pain that spread from the collar around his throat.

“M-Mr. Owen, if I could just-... if I c-could maybe go to bed, please, we could go together-”

“No.” Owen refills his glass, takes another swig. His words aren’t slurred like last time, when he called Kauri ‘Vince’ and cried against his shoulder while it hurt and hurt and hurt. This bitter humor is scarier than his sadness was. “You stay right the fuck there, sweetness.”

He’s never called Kauri ‘sweetness’ before, but someone else has.

Oh, it’s the pretty little prostitot back to visit the real handler, huh? What’d he do this time, Everly?

645898 fucking bit me, Connor. He fucking bit me. I asked the supe to hand him over to you for a week to get his fucking shit in line. Marisa signed off on it, so congratulations. The only rule is you don’t touch the merchandise below the belt and you don't leave marks.

Ha. Not where anyone will notice, anyway.

No, remember, this one’s custom and the Director’s got an interest in it. Don’t leave any fucking marks, Connor.

Aw, but marks are how they learn.

Not this one. But he’ll do anything for a good touch these days.

Apparently he’s not into your good touch, if he bit you.

Yeah, well, maybe I… had a little too much fun with Position 21 this morning.

Oh shit, you mean he bit you bit you. I would, too, if you tried that shit on me. All right, 645898, let’s see… oh, sweetness, we are going to have fun teaching you not to bite anymore, aren’t we? I’d ask if you can keep a secret, but we both know you and the rocks you have in your head won’t remember a goddamn thing.

Kauri’s eyes shift towards the screen of the laptop, trying to distract himself from the memory of the dark-haired handler’s gloved hands pressing on either side of his jaw until his mouth was forced open. Trainers weren't supposed to get so involved but it wasn't like the trainees could complain to anyone and if no one saw it happen, then no one really cared.

Kauri had thrown up, was punished, and then he'd thrown up again. He was supposed to forget it - the memory of how they train you is supposed to be gone behind the wall of pain and fog and whatever they put in the water, with only the training itself left behind, there was a whole part of the brochure he had to memorize about it - but Kauri’s wall isn’t always functioning anymore.

Maybe it never was.

Owen is still reading comments, the screen a flat white covered in text, and Kauri braces against even the instinctive attempt to read them. The sharp pain in his head is nearly instantaneous, a sudden pounding, the threat of the white fog just behind it.

But Colton gets to read.

Kauri’s not exactly jealous - he wouldn’t want to live with the Host, either, with those too-wide smiles and the sharpness behind their eyes. Owen at least was soft, sometimes, and said sweet things that didn’t always have a bite or an insult behind them. But… but he is jealous that Colton gets to read.

Reading used to be my life. I used to write poetry. I can’t even look at words anymore.

Kauri remembers too much right now, and he doesn’t want the white fog to take it away again. Instead, he drops his eyes back to the ground and slowly nods. His heart is beating too hard, too fast, but Keira doesn’t say anything.

Keira doesn’t ask why, this time, and he knows she’s tracking his condition because she always is, and the soft sound of her inside machinery has changed.

He wants to believe she doesn’t want Owen to know he’s upset.

“Some weirdo named @burtlederp said, ‘Oh, is the Host doing product placement for the new Fifty Shades of Gray movie’?” Owen barked a laugh, reaching over to run a hand down his cheek and the side of his neck. Even with the nervous worry that pounded behind his eyes every time he looked at Owen’s glassy green gaze, the touch feels nice the same way all soft touch feels nice, and Kauri leans into it. "Like I'd ever let anyone else see how much you like that."

On his knees with his hands behind his back, the black leather cutting across pale skin, the pain he wasn't trained for. Owen’s tie on the floor, making Kauri’s mouth go dry.

Kauri's stomach flips again and he bites down on his lower lip so hard he feels the pain radiate out into the rest of his face. It settles under his skin alongside the shame he feels, that he’s not supposed to be able to feel any longer. The training was supposed to make him shameless.

But Kauri feels twisted, and dark, and wrong with the way Owen smiles at him now, before turning back to the screen.

I didn't want this, not with you, I didn’t want-

"'... to be fucked by a closeted gay with Mommy issues and an ego overblown by fame'..." Owen is still mumbling the comments out loud, sipping and sipping from his glass, and Kauri's eyes skip back, trying to measure how much he's had to drink by now. "'His mom's conservative, so he must have a hard time'. Yeah, that's the fucking truth, LesbiansUnite. You get it. Shove it, ChewwieCan. Oh, this guy just says they love the Host, what a good job they did, like always. Good, nice to see a nice damn comment on this page…"

He stops, the good humor draining from his face, and Kauri’s heart stills, too.

“‘I want to see Colton and Kauri interact more.’ You barely fucking interacted that time. 'Colton looked so sad at losing Kauri… the Host should read one where they get to be together' - never, Kauri, never. Listen to me, listen. I will make sure you never, ever get to have anyone but me. ‘SaveKauri20XX’ oh what the fuck, save you from what?” Owen rounds on him, like he was the one asking to be saved, and Kauri wilts back into his blanket, pulls it more tightly around himself.

Just a pair of frightened blue eyes and curly black hair.

The condo is huge but in this moment Kauri feels like it is slowly getting smaller, closing in around him. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Owen knocks the edge of the glass into Kauri’s forehead hard enough to hurt, in a way he seems to think is playful, but it feels like the opening to something much, much worse to Kauri. “What do you need saved from, huh? Save you from never having to work a day in your life? From having all the time you fucking need to practice your positions, and do yoga, and, and-... like cardio and shit? Save you from flexibility?”

Kauri says nothing - only swallows the hints of bitterness that want to find their way out. He stays quiet. He tries not to look into Owen’s empty, glittering eyes.

“Listen to these fucking assholes, Kauri. They want you out there starving in the streets instead of right here, where you’re taken care of. They act like they care about you, Kauri, but they don’t. If they did, they’d know that you are exactly where you’re supposed to be. Doing exactly what you’re made to do. Listen to this-” Owen turns back, takes another long drink. “‘This was so precious,’” and he sneers the words, finally starting to slur the syllables. “Colton is so sweet, being sad about losing him. Exclamation. Point.’ Yeah, sweet as pie, that little shit glared at me. He fucking glared at me. How dare he. ‘Kauri is too good for Owen anyway’.”

Owen glances over at him again, and Kauri sits up a little straighter. His heart is pounding in his chest, he’s half-dizzy with fear, breathing in silent shallow gasps that barely move his chest.

Please stop reading them, please stop, please-

“What do you think, Kauri?” Owen asks, in a low voice. “Are you too good for me? Do you like Colton better?”

Yes.

“No,” Kauri says with all the earnest sincerity he can force into his lie. “Of c-course not, Mr. Owen. I’m yours, I was made for you. Colt-” His voice hitches, just a little, but he covers it with more fear and Owen softens, just a little - he always forgives Kauri when he seems really, really frightened. “Colton’s just another pet. I don’t care about him. We don’t care about each other, that’s not how it works.”

Owen stares at him, and Kauri thinks for a second he didn’t buy the lie, and he wonders what part of his skin will be torn up this time, and if Owen will bring out the cane maybe or just use his teeth. Then he relaxes, his green eyes going soft with affection or maybe just the whiskey. “That’s right, you don’t care about each other. That’s right.”

He turns back to the laptop, and just as he opens his mouth to read another comment, his phone lights up with a photo at the front and a 70’s rock song starts playing, She’s just a devil woman, with evil in her eyes.

Kauri’s heart leaps with gratitude that she would call now and distract him, pull him away. Owen picks up his phone, screws his face up into an expression of annoyance that Kauri knows too well, and then says tiredly, “Mom, I don’t want to talk about the Youtube thing any longer.”

Tinny, a voice he can barely hear, Carlotta Grant snaps through the phone well what you want to talk about went out the window when you had your little custom slut spread his legs for my constituency to see!

“Look, I didn’t know they were going to have him do that part, I-” Owen pushes himself to standing, glancing down at Kauri, holding out his hand with the fingers straight and palm out, and Kauri nods quickly to show he understands the command to stay right where he is. “Mom. Mom, listen to me, that wasn’t pre-planned or anything. The Host just likes to surprise people. It’s fine, it’s not like everyone doesn’t already know what Box Boys end up doing half the time.”

We are getting inundated with calls about you!

“I don’t doubt it. Look, you don’t need to freak out about this.”

I am not ‘freaking out’, Owen John, this could severely affect our chances in the next election!

“No, it won’t. Listen, everyone loves a good ‘maternal love conquers all’ story. Just tell them that you didn’t know, but you still love me anyway. Act all shocked about it. Give a press conference, or something. Stop trying to hide from who I am and just, just let me fucking own it.” He nudges Kauri with his foot and grins down at him “Like I own Kauri.”

Kauri smiles back, nervous and trembling, blanket pulled as tightly around himself as he can get. As Owen shifts away from him, Kauri can’t hear Carlotta any longer, but Owen rolls his eyes and that tells Kauri most of what he might want to know.

“What? Yeah, ‘course he’s here, Mom, where else would he be? … No, it’s not like it matters what he overhears. That’s like giving a shit if the fish in your aquarium hear us. Kauri barely has the brains of a goat, I made sure of it.”

645898, says here you were a 4.0 at your university. English Education with a minor in… shit, Connor, listen to this bullshit. Minor in Creative Writing.

What, really? Oh shit, man. There had been glee in the Connor Trainer’s voice. Kauri’s - 645898’s - trainer and the Connor trainer had been really good friends, and even though Connor only worked with the really disobedient Box Boys, 645898’s trainer talked to him all the time. Oh, fuck. So this hot piece of ass wanted to be a teacher? A writing teacher?

I know right? We’re going to take a fucking honors student and put him in some rich asshole's bed. I must have made the Director real happy somewhere back there, you don’t get a job like this every week.

Jesus, Everly, I’d kill to get to fuck up a nerd like this.

Stop ‘bending’ the rules with the merchandise and you might get to.

Like you're one to talk.

Owen walks away and Kauri listens to his footsteps heading down the hall, fingers tightening into the fabric of his pants. Step, step, step, step - Owen’s heavy footfalls, part of the soundtrack to his life.

The bedroom door closes, and Kauri knows Owen’s conversations with his mother last for an hour most of the time. An hour for Owen to start sobering up, to lose interest in the words on the screen. An hour of safety. He lets out a quick breath, relaxing his shoulders, the way they end yoga in the videos he watched on Owen’s TV. First relax your neck, then your shoulders, arms, wrists, hands… his fingers loosen, splaying over his thighs.

The laptop screen is still up.

Owen always talks to his mom for at least an hour.

Do I have a mom, somewhere? I know I have a Keira, the other one, the real one. I know I had her. Maybe… maybe her owner lets her read, too.

Maybe the owner watches the Host, like mine does, and lets her read.

It's a long shot, but…

Kauri swallows hard, glancing back over his shoulder at the bedroom door, and then he scoots a little closer to the computer.

And then a little closer, still.

The headache starts up, a sudden burst in heart rate alongside it, and Kauri bites his lower lip, craning his neck to try and look at the words. He’s not dumb, he just has nothing to do and nothing to think about. He used to be able to read, reading and writing used to be his life. They made him dumb, just like they took everything else away from him, just like they took Keira.

But Kauri isn't the only pet who doesn't want to be one.

And Colton gets to read.

Which means that they didn’t take the skill away, they just made Kauri afraid of it. He's not stupid, they just locked the things he had learned up behind the pain.

But who he is hasn't changed.

He scoots closer, and closer, and closer, until he can read the comments, the black text on the white screen, despite the ache behind his eyes.

It was open to Kauri is too good for Owen anyway, lol… and for this sinful earth.

Kauri reads each and every word like a gift, breathing hard. A smile starts to find its way onto his face, just a little one.

Someone thought he deserved better than Owen Grant's bed.

Kauri heartrate accelerate, Kauri beeps next to him. Marked change in physical condition.

“Ssssshhh, it’s okay, Keira, it’s okay. Um, uh, don’t tell him I was reading, okay? Please? Don’t tell him anything.”

Owen Grant, owner. Overrides. Keira’s robotic little voice is quiet. Keira answer Owen Grant, if queried.

“I know, I know, but… can’t you just not tell him? Um, uh…" What has he heard Owen saying to flip the override switch… "Um... override code sixteen four ball reindeer seven two. Don't tell Mr. Owen anything, okay?"

There’s a pause. Owen Grant, owner. Keira beeps again, a little more insistently this time.

Kauri looks down at her, eyebrows furrowing together. If she tells Owen he was reading, he’ll go into the box again, into the sensory deprivation hood. He’ll be alone, with no sounds and no smells and no sights and nothing.

He hesitates, considering closing the screen and going back to sitting and staring, living with a head full of rocks just like the trainer said. Then, he slowly turns back and starts reading again.

“I’m going to trust you, Keira,” Kauri whispers. “I’m going to trust you to help me and not tell him anything.” Keira doesn’t speak or beep again, only starts her cleaning routine all at once, abruptly, like she’s mad at him and trying not to show it. Even though Owen says Roombas don’t have emotions, can’t have feelings like that.

Kauri knows she can - he knows it. He knows that Keira likes him, as much as a robot can like a person, that she seeks him out to sit in his lap on the balcony and knows when he’s sad, the days he spends when Owen is at meetings doing his yoga and positions until his muscles are trembling, just to get rid of the emptiness inside his head.

I hope Colton and Kauri run away together, the next comment reads, and Kauri blushes, biting his bottom lip nervously. The words slip and slide around the page but he chases them down, ignores the growing pain inside his head. He’s had worse headaches than this, before, when he tried to do things he’s not supposed to do.

“That would be nice,” Kauri whispers. “I don’t know where we’d go, though…”

Owen yells something through the phone at his mother and Kauri jumps, looking down the hall with a panic, but then his voice drops back to normal. He doesn’t come out, and Kauri turns back to the laptop, scooting closer and closer and closer.

Some part of Kauri whispers not to read the comments, never read the comments, stop violating his protocols, but when he keeps looking, squinting against his pounding headache, he realizes that while the comments were making Owen angry, they’re not mean comments at all.

I totally get why Colton looks so mad! I’d be mad too if I didn’t get to keep Kauri at the end! Kauri is such a cutie. I wish I had money… I would’ve treated him better, anyway. I bet Colton wishes he was rich enough to just buy a Kauri for himself!

That’s ridiculous, pets can’t own other pets. If he had that much money he’d just buy his freedom or something, right?

Yeah, but then buy Kauri after. Or at least someone who looks like him.

The Host enjoyed this all way too much, don’t you think? I mean, it seemed like they were really enjoying being so mean to poor Colton! And I don’t think they even understood what he was mad about at the end.

Yeah, I love the Host, but this one seemed kind of… cruel. Although I guess they say the pets don’t even know to care about what they are, it’s part of the training or something.

Jesus, what their parents must think about them signing up for this!

Yeah, I wondered about that with the last video, with the two Box Boys in it. What do you think Kauri’s parents think happened with their son? Do you think he told them before he signed up? I mean, say your son signs up to be some brainless sugar baby. What do you tell their siblings, you know?

Did you just literally ask us to please think of the children

What about that Colton? What must his family think, signing up for the program just to be a famous Youtuber's pet?

I mean, I'd be thrilled. Colton gets a nice bed, all his meals taken care of, and all he has to do is play along reading fucking fanfiction? That sounds like my ideal life.

I used to think people were overreacting, you know all the fucking snowflakes these days freaking out about every single thing. But… this seems really weird, right? I can’t believe this is reality now.

I KNOW WHO COLTON IS

Do you think anyone’s shown Vincent Shield all this shit about the Cory kid?

Kauri wonders, too, after having to answer to the name - after seeing the Host’s genuine surprise at his face, after hearing Owen lie and say it was random when he’d told Kauri over and over that he was a custom order that had to look a specific way. Is the person he’s meant to replace for Owen out there looking at his face, knowing who he is?

Click on my profile to win a FREE box boy AND 1000 subscribers!!!

Honestly kind of disappointed there wasn’t anything about the YOU KNOW WHAT positions in this fanfiction so we could see Colton make that funny face again! Anyone got a link to a good smutty one?

Oh, I know I saw one where Colton gets really dark and mean and the Cory boy super likes it, l’ll go find the link and message it to you.

Oh fuck yes, give me all the good smut

Oh, I saw one where they’re in love, it was really super cute, let me get that one too

Real disappointed Youtube won’t let the Host read the really good stuff. I’ve watched that competition video like six times on repeat, if you get my drift. Kauri’s like, super sexy.

Kauri’s eyes widen at that one, the red back in his face, an uncomfortable heat.

I’ll see myself out, I swear, but… those soft eyes? That lip all stuck out when he gets scared?

Kauri catches himself still biting on his lip and stops, pressing them together into a thin line, swallowing hard.

You just want to kiss his tears away and fuck him slow and glorious. Make him the happiest man in the world.

Hell yes, I’d fuck him. Pet or not, you think the Host and Colton didn't want some of that action, too? I'd bet the Host's Lamborghini that they did.

Do Lamborghinis even have spacious enough seats for that?

I'll bet the Host knows the answer to that question.

Ha, by now Colton probably does, too. Think he closes his eyes and thinks about Cory?

Kauri makes a face, but he reads the comment again, lingering a little over the idea that people other than Owen (one person) might think of him that way, that maybe someone else thinks of him while he is busy thinking of them.

He reads the comments again… and then one more time.

The whole time he can hear Owen’s voice muffled back in his bedroom, and he keeps one ear out for it while reading what people say about him.

Anyone else concerned about Kauri??? Someone needs to help that poor boy. Colton seems like he can handle himself but Kauri was so fragile! He looked like he’d shatter if he got one more shock from those barbaric shock collars.

It’s just a discipline tool, it’s not a big deal. It doesn’t even leave a mark.

You can torture someone without leaving any marks, you jackass!

What do you guys think would happen if their families saw these videos? Like, what if Colton’s got a sister or something who sees him being used as a prop in the Host’s videos? Or what if Kauri has parents out there, and they see him do that, that thing he did in the last video?

What, spread his legs? He probably does that every night. He doesn't care. Romantic pets know what they're for.

Kauri swallows, hard, as much because it's true as that he doesn't really want to be for that. His hands start to shake, and he takes in a deep breath, and then another. Then he slowly raises them, lays them over the keys on the keyboard. His heart beats hard in his throat, making him breathe in gasps, terrified little nothing-sounds coming helplessly from his lips.

He hits the REPLY button, gives himself a temporary username - it all comes back easily to him, he used to use computers all the time, and his body remembers how to do it even if his brain isn’t supposed to any longer.

He finds a comment he wants to answer.

Kauri would look so pretty with long hair...

His head hurts worse and worse and worse, and he can barely keep his fingers moving, eyes squinted down to slits until he can’t read the blurry black text he’s typing at all.

Tehfogcmesin0414: kauri has a sistrr with long hair her naem is keira help her cheep cheep littl brds keera I miss you I'm sorry I didn lisen to you you were right

There’s a crack of white light inside his head followed a half-second later by an explosion of pain but Kauri grinds his teeth together as hard as he can, holds onto consciousness with every ounce of strength he has left, and keeps looking.

All he can hear now is the pounding of his own blood behind his face, in his neck, down to his wrists. The rushing in his ears overtakes every other sound.

If they can find Keira, she can tell them who he is. She might be hurt but maybe not, maybe she's out there somewhere and he remembers her, she is his twin, she won't stop looking, he knows it.

Someone will read it and see it and show Keira. Someone will.

Keira will see it and she will know he’s here and he doesn’t want to be, she’ll know, she’ll tell them his name is-

Not. Erased.

Kauri gasps at the knowledge comes back to him, all at once, the words like big black block letters against the white trying to take over his mind. He knows his real name. He knows who he is. He knows where he came from, and what happened when they put him and Keira in the van.

He remembers the prick of the needle and he remembers Karen Renford’s face the first time he ever saw her.

You have agreed to participate in a very special program, 645898.

Stop calling me a fucking number! I have a, a name! Where's my sister?!

That is not important. What matters is that you are going to serve a very special purpose soon. Haven't you always wanted a purpose?

Take me back to my sister! Please, you've got the wrong people, we're just-... we're just college kids, we're not even from here!

Oh, 645898. Do you genuinely not understand that your market value rises with that fact? We need an asset in place to utilize the leverage when Mr. Grant's browsing becomes buying.

I'm not anyone's fucking pet, you bitch!

You will be. It is time for you to forget.

But he remembers.

He remembers, he remembers, he remembers.

The pounding pain inside his skull tells him he’s not going to remember for very long. Memories slide and slip through and around his thoughts, disappearing and reappearing and sinking down again.

He doesn’t get to know his own name, no Box Boy gets to know their own name, but… but maybe they can remember someone else’s. The Facility won’t know to tell someone else not to know his name…

There's just one person he can think of.

He scrolls back up to the top, where the Host has a link to send a message. Colton reads a lot of the messages, now. They said so in a video, that Colton reads and answers and sometimes the Host doesn't even look for days. Which means Colton will read this message.

He has to.

He’s the only person in the world Kauri might be able to trust.

Owen is

SAFE

not safe

I CAN TRUST

can’t trust

Owen

Colton is a

PET

a person

who IS SERVING A PURPOSE

needs help too

I can FOLLOW PROTOCOLS

remember

FORGET

remember who I am

SERVE

remember

Kauri swallows hard, half-blind, the white encroaching from every corner of his mind to overtake it. His heart won’t stop pounding, and he can hear Keira beeping high-pitched and loud, but only barely. It’s a soft noise, it can’t be louder than the noise inside his head.

Kauri reassurance require

"No."

Kauri ceases action causing physical distress?

"Not until I tell him."

Keira request Kauri ceases action-

"No! We can help each other! I know we can, I just, he just has to remember this, they won't know to make him forget a name that doesn't mean anything to him!"

Except it's everything to Kauri.

Kauri clicks [GOT A QUESTION? I GOT ANSWERS!] and types out a message, as fast as he can, a rush of keyboard clicking.

plees have colton red this. hard for Me to tYpe rite Now And My fingErs hurt If you See this Lissen, it's Important some Arent signups soMe get taken didn sign up its a lie their lying to us

He sends it, opens up a second message, fingers numb, heart racing, eyes a blur of pounding, throbbing ache.

Colton remmbr for me my naem is

ERASED

The pain is gone and the world is white and white and dark and then the world is nothing at all.

Kauri wakes up on his side on the floor next to the coffee table, blinking hard, his headache gone like it had never been there, tangled in the blanket. “Oh, what did I-”

His eyes light on bare feet, the bottom of Owen's pants, and then they travel up and up and up.

Owen is leaning over him, and the green eyes are like hard chips of stone, focused right on him. He reaches down and grabs Kauri, digging fingers into the back of his neck as jerking him halfway upright with a surprised cry, before slamming him back down, cracking his forehead on the corner of the coffee table.

Flash of light and pain, tearing thin skin, and the sudden sting of red blood dripping onto cream colored carpet. "Ah, hnnnh, Mr., Mr. Owen, I don't, I don't uh-understand-"

“You little piece of shit,” Owen hisses, a half-whisper of rage, slamming Kauri down again, a burst of terrible light, the pain that comes just after. The world spins, and when Owen lets go Kauri stays on his hands and knees, breathing in pants along with the rhythm of the pain pulsing with his blood.

There’s an arc of blood on the carpet.

Kauri thinks with wild irrationality, The cleaning lady will hate that I made that happen, too.

“What the fuck did you do?”

He points, and Kauri follows his gesture with dazed eyes, looking over to the laptop to see the words MESSAGE SENT on the screen.

It sent.

He doesn't know his name anymore, but he knows he knew it, and he sent it to Colton, and someone out there will know who he was, will know that he didn’t sign, that it wasn’t his idea.

Someone who can read.

Someone who can write it down.

He feels thrilled, and terrified, and guilty.

But mostly terrified.

Owen’s hand snaps out to grab him by one arm and pull him to his feet, rough and bruising, and Kauri cries out when Owen throws him by his arm across the room, still dizzy from hitting his head.

“What. The fuck. Did you. Do?!”

Kauri stumbles, trips and falls, slams hard into the bookshelf, DVD and Blu-Ray cases raining down on him, one of Owen’s statues from a trip to Africa smacking hard into the middle of his back and he whimpers at the sudden flare of pain.

I’m not trained for pain

Owen stalks over to him, grabs him, throws him again, and this time Kauri bangs his shoulder into the corner of the entertainment center, tries to twist away from the next grip but he can't move fast enough.

Shoved hard into a wall with his head cracking back into it, the world is a sudden flash and then Owen's hands are on his shoulders gripping tight, too tight. His fingers hurt they press so hard into skin. Kauri stares, blood trickling from a wide, shallow cut across his forehead.

He can feel the warmth of it turning cold as he stares up at Owen’s furious face.

“I d-didn’t do anything! I didn’t! I just, I just, I remembered that I didn’t… I didn’t sign up. It wasn’t my choice, I didn’t choose this! You said, you said they showed you my contract but I didn’t sign it! I didn’t sign it. You have to, you know the ethics people… I think I’m from Illinois, I think, I think my sister and I were stolen!"

Owen starts to laugh. It’s a drunken, unkind, slurred bleary pissed-off sound.

“You stupid little whore." Owen tightens the hands on his shoulders until Kauri whines in his throat at the ache. When he tries to raise a hand - just to wipe away blood - Owen jerks him forward and then slams him back again, head slamming back into the wall with another burst of awful white and black sparks, and Kauri whimpers, trying desperately to curl in on himself. "Jesus, they really went the full nine yards making you dumb. Did you really think I didn’t know exactly where you came from? Of course I know about that. And your stupid sister. You’re not supposed to remember any of it. What did you send the Host?”

Kauri licks his lips, eyes wide. “You already knew? But, but you said-”

“I lied. I know exactly where you fucking came from. You think I give a fuck about how they got you back to me, Vince?” Owen snorts, disgusted with him, and Kauri has loved him so much and knows with real certainty that what Owen feels for him is not anything close to love at all. “What did you send them? Was it that pet you were trying to talk to? You like him so fucking much, huh? Think he'll see your little message and come rescue you? He's gonna be your fucking prince charming, Kauri? You stupid fucking whore, no one wants you but me. No one ever will. I wanted you dumb as shit, but this is something else. What did you send?”

“Nothing,” Kauri whispers. “I couldn’t see well enough to type, it was nonsense, I-”

“Fuck that. I’ll just wait until they respond, I know they respond to all their messages. I’ll figure out which one is you, but no one’s going to believe you… and you won’t get to see what anyone has to say.”

“I won't?” Kauri whispers, and when Owen leans in to kiss him - bruising, a crush of lips and teeth and tongue that isn't affection but ownership - there’s nowhere for him to go, nowhere for him to hide. He tries to tilt his chin up, to answer it, but it isn’t the kind of kiss you can answer, only the kind you have to endure until it’s done.

The smell of his cologne surrounds Kauri, cedar-y and woodsy, and usually Kauri smells it as something soothing and sexy, but in this moment it only makes his heart beat harder in fear, the terror of how badly he has messed this up, how much he will hurt in the morning.

“You know you’re not allowed to read and write, Kauri,” Owen says with deceptive gentleness, letting go of his shoulder to run fingers through his hair, twisting in the black curls until it hurts, until Kauri winces against the pain outside and in. “I’m going to have to have them fix that for me. I’m going to have to fix it.”

Owen's mouth drops to his neck, a press of warm tongue and lips, and Kauri shivers at how good it feels even as he quavers in fear of what might come next, even as the rest of him aches.

“Oh, Kauri,” Owen breathes into his neck, real regret in his voice. “You know better. I’ll make sure you never read anything ever again. Being able to send messages is the first step to leaving me, Kauri. I couldn’t take it if you did that, just like him. I would die if you left me. You wouldn’t ever leave me, would you? Would you, Kauri?”

Owen raises his head to look him in the eyes. He looks calm. Serene.

Kauri is trapped, he thinks, with a monster.

“N-No, Owen,” Kauri says softly, shaking his head. “I love you, I wouldn’t… You, you said-”

“You call me Mr. Owen.” “Mr. Owen,” Kauri whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“I said I’d never, ever let you leave, Vince. Not again.”

Kauri swallows, hard, as the hand that was so gentle in his hair slowly slides down to close around his throat. “I’m, I’m not Vince.”

"Ssshhhhh, shut up. You left once. I knocked out your teeth, I kept you locked up for days and I fucked you up I loved you so much but you still left me." Owen's thumb drifts back and forth across his Adam's apple, considering, and there is a bright madness in his eyes that Kauri has only seen once before. “You left me once. I won’t let you leave again.”

This is how he will hurt me.

Owen’s grip begins to tighten, and Kauri breathes in deeply as fast as he can, hoping he can hold his breath. Breaths turn to gasps, spots dancing in his vision, trying to breathe through a straw.

HELP KAURI. Keira's voice is high-pitched, loud, insistent.

"No," Owen whispers, then the volume of his voice raises louder and louder. "Vince, you stupid little slut, you don't get to leave me. Never again. Never again. How dare you, you piece of shit, you were meant for me, we were meant for each other!”

He’s screaming by the end of it, spit in Kauri’s face, making him flinch back in terror, his eyes wide, certain that this is it, this is how he dies. Owners aren’t allowed to kill pets but no one’s going to stop him and it wouldn’t matter if someone found out, Kauri would still be dead.

He's going to kill me and it's not even me he's killing.

Kauri scrabbles at Owen's hands with his own in a sudden panicked desperate attempt to survive, fingernails digging desperately into skin and Keira is screaming HELP KAURI HELP KAURI HELP KAURI at their feet until Owen kicks her viciously away.

Keira slams into the corner of the coffee table's leg, and Kauri hears a horrible crack before her machinery goes silent. He tries to scream but all that comes out is a whistle of what little air he has left.

"Keira! N-no, pl-please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Kauri chokes out the words, a hissing airy whimper, but Owen tightens his grip and cuts even more air off until his voice is gone, lost in the desperate fight to breathe and the incredible suffocating pain.

"I'll make sure you never fucking leave," Owen murmurs, his voice gentle and loving. "You'll never, ever walk away from me. I'll figure out what you told the Host and I'll make sure it's fucking wiped from your memory. If it isn't… doesn't matter. You're not leaving me. I'll kill you first."

His hands around Kauri’s throat feel like metal, worse than the choke-chain in training. Kauri’s hands come up to close over the wrists, feeling Owen’s tendons standing out in his forearms, staring with wide, pleading eyes, begging without words for Owen to please, please let him breathe.

I'm sorry, Keira, I'm so fucking sorry I didn't listen to you…

I hope someone remembers my name.

The world around Kauri sparks once more and then fades to black. The last thing Kauri hears is Owen's heavy breathing and his own final gasp.

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blackaquokat · 4 years

Text

The Song You Might Have Been (Chapter 4)

Link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 3 here!

A/N: TW for another attempted murder. Plus a fistfight. Because our leading characters are emotionally constipated morons.

---

Funnily enough, the next attempt for your life has nothing to do with your framed case. Which is both a good and bad thing.

Good because a paid assassin is more difficult to sniff out and is financially motivated to really ensure the job is done. Not to mention is more talented at getting away with murder.

Bad because at the moment you’re staring at Newman and three other lackies behind him. They have cornered you in the empty laundry room. Newman is brandishing a shiv sharpened from a toothbrush. You recognize two of his companions as criminals you prosecuted: one for murder and another for drug dealing.

“No one here to protect you now, huh, Eagle?” Newman sneers. “Which means we can cut you up however you want and no one will be any the wiser.”

You swing your arms back and forth casually before putting them behind your back. While you try to slyly get a grip on the large measuring cup of bleach on the table behind you, you speak up. “You’re really tempting fate here, aren’t you? Or are you telling me that Yancy gave you the all-clear to kill me after assigning me a bodyguard rotation?”

The Murderous inmate--Jerry Carson, you remember--pales three shades and turns on Newman. “Wait, hold on, this drip is still under Yancy’s protection? What the hell are you playing at, Newman? I don’t wanna be on Yancy’s shit list!”

Inmate-You-Don’t-Recognize nods frantically in agreement. “I only agreed to this because I was promised more cigarettes, but going against Yancy is suicide!”

(How are these guys so clueless? It’s not like it’s a secret that the gang has been joined to your hip for this long. Or is the rest of the prison under the impression that you’re just an unfortunate tag-along trying to kiss your way up the ladder?)

“Cowards, the lot of you!” Newman snaps. He turns back to you. “Not that I need help killing you. You’re just an attorney. What are you gonna do, throw the book at me?”

You let a sinister smile crawl across your face. “Maybe not the book.”

Newman’s eyes narrow into slits and he lunges for you--only to reel back screaming when you throw the bleach in his eyes.

You drop the cup and charge around him while he flails and furiously wipes at his face. To your surprise, none of the lackeys try to grab you as you escape.

On your way out of the room, you run smack into someone and start flailing when arms hold you in place.

“Whoa, whoa there, Eagle!” Once you hear Jimmy’s voice, you calm down and he releases you. “What’s your hurry?”

“They were about to be a pincushion.”

Jimmy turns to address, much to your surprise, the Drug Dealing inmate who had been suspiciously silent during the whole exchange. Declan Millard, you finally remember.

“You the guy who let Bam-Bam know this was going down?”

Declan nods and winks at you. “Not that I have any fuzzy feelings for you, Eagle, but my lawyer informed me that you were pretty generous about my sentencing.”

“Considering I learned you discouraged dealing to the younger kids in the neighborhood you were in,” you respond automatically, more than a little stunned at this turn of events, “and that you gave up other dealers during the trial, it seemed like the fair thing to do.”

“Not many lawyers are fair, Eagle,” Declan reminds you. “I’d hate to deprive the world of the only one I know.”

“I see I missed the fun.” The three of you turn again and there’s Yancy, once again appearing out of nowhere. His arms are crossed, leaving his forearm tattoo in full view. He looks more lethal than you’ve ever seen him.

“Not quite, boss.” Declan jerks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the laundry room where they can all still hear Newman screaming and swearing. “The other two didn’t quite know what they were getting into, but Newman did.”

Yancy nods and cracks his knuckles. He puts a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t youse go relax in your bunk for a bit? Jimmy and I can take care of this ourselves.”

“Just Newman,” you say, suddenly. “He’s the only one who tried to hurt me.”

“And he was paid for his efforts with a face full of bleach,” Declan reports in a gleeful tone. “It was an impressive sight.” He looks you up and down impressively. “You keep surprising me, Eagle.”

“Yes, yes, they’re very surprising,” Yancy repeats dismissively. “Clear out, Declan. Eagle, back to your cell, that’s an order.”

The look you give him at that statement is enough to have him offer only a somewhat apologetic grimace before entering the laundry room with Jimmy.

You’re halfway down the hall before you hear a loud scream that cuts off into a gurgle only moments later.

---

You go back to your cell, simply because you don’t have anything better to do besides work on another letter to send to the legislature, but when you get there, you almost think you’ve gotten horribly mixed up.

“Um…”

Your cell is completely redecorated. There’s a small white wire tea table with matching chairs and a vase with lovely yellow flowers. Your second set of prison clothes are hanging on various clotheslines. There’s a tiny nightstand with a lamp by your bed, which has new sheets, a comforter, and two more fluffy pillows. Toiletries, of all things, sit in a neat section on the back of and next to the toilet. There’s even an adorable little potted tree with white leaves (that one is probably fake). Someone even put a goddamn fur rug next to the bunk with a pair of slippers. Slippers, for God’s sake.

You’re still gaping at all of this contraband, which makes the cell seem almost decadent in its furnishings, when you hear a low laugh behind you and whirl around to see Heap-Ass deliver you a casual salute before leaving.

“Why the tree?” you blurt out first, because apparently that is the strangest thing in this room and not the goddamn fur rug and furry pillow.

“The boss loves trees,” Heap-Ass yells back.

“Thanks!” you hurry to say before he gets out of earshot. Reverently, you sit at the wire table, where your writing supplies and paper and even a brand new leather bound notebook awaits you, and get started on another letter.

What alternate dimension have I fallen into?

When Yancy returns, his hands suspiciously cleaner than they normally are, you ask him if the refurbishings were his doing. You’ve moved from the table to your bed, curled under the blankets, the lamp switched on, and have now moved onto writing notes in your notebook. It’ll be easier to keep lists of requests in this rather than whatever scraps of paper you can get your hands on.

He shrugs at your questioning look. “Consider it a sign of gratitude for the new books. And the poetry readings youse been doing every night.”

You shut the notebook. “And you go this far for just anyone who does you favors?”

“Only I didn’t ask youse for the books, did I, Eagle?” Yancy challenges. “Did that on your own. Because youse got more fight and more brains than any other goon in this place.”

“Yancy--”

“Listen here, Eagle, I ain’t takin’ any refusal for the gift, alright? Besides, I benefit from these furnishings too.”

“You love trees, yeah, I heard.”

You want to trust that that’s all this is, you really do. You appreciate the little things that have gone a long way to make you more comfortable, but that’s the problem. You don’t want to get comfortable. If you get comfortable, then it will be that much harder to leave.

Something tells you that that might be exactly what Yancy was hoping for. Though God knows why he’s so desperate for you to stick around.

“And this has nothing to do with the fact that my last update with Damien involved breaking down more of Merrill Byron’s operation?”

Yancy flinches and avoids your question by hopping into the top bunk. Moments later, “What makes you think I care what your soon-to-be Mayor friend has to say?”

“Because if they manage to pin any of that operation to Byron, then my name gets cleared and I can leave.”

You can’t see his face, but Yancy’s silences can be just as telling as the nonsense he spouts off.

“Hey, Eagle!” shouts Bam-Bam from down the hall. “You gonna read tonight or what?”

You sigh and reach for the book compilation of Edna St. Vincent Millay poetry you borrowed for the evening. “Alright, keep your shirts on, guys. I’ll only be reading three tonight, don’t get comfortable.”

You’re looking forward to a night of sleep that won’t involve shivering. Turns out the mattress was replaced too, and you are equally looking forward to not feeling springs stab into your back and sides.

---

You never give up, really.

But by the time Week Nine in Happy Trails Penitentiary begins, you start to feel discouraged.

Not that anyone else really gets why. You’ve been perfectly happy organizing the new books and teaching the first few inmate volunteers the Dewey Decimal System so that they can locate and sort the books easier. All those years of trying to pay your way through University as the local librarian are really paying off now. Not that it didn’t pay off before.

“Is it really so bad here?” Jimmy asks you in the yard one day. He’s smuggled bread rolls for the entire gang (which does include you now, you guess). “I mean, I know the hooch wine doesn’t do much for you, but we can always sneak the whiskey out of the warden’s office! Or Heap-Ass can get you some bourbon from the outside.”

“I appreciate the offer, Jimmy.” You swallow a bite of your roll before continuing. “But honestly, I...I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” Tiny insists. She’s clutching the copy of the Velveteen Rabbit to her chest. “Who’s going to run the library if you leave?”

“I can train you guys before I leave, or I can come back after I get out and help you set the rest up.” You scootch closer to Tiny. You would like to put your arm around her, but the last time you attempted physical comfort with her, she held a fork-shiv to your throat. “Look, I’m not going to just forget about you guys, okay? I’ve never had this many friends in my life. I plan on setting up a volunteer system here so I can come by whenever the hell I want.”

Tiny’s tentative smile fades into wide-eyed concern, suddenly, when she looks over your shoulder.

“Oh, sure youse will.”

You spin around in surprise and, sure enough, there’s Yancy. Seriously, you might need to put a bell around his neck.

“You think youse the first person to come in, get released, and never come back?” Yancy challenges. He saunters up to you not unlike a predatory cat. “Why don’t youse just admit that we’re not good enough for you?”

“What, just because I don’t want to sit in here while what little reputation I have with the public gets dragged through the mud?!” You toss your roll behind you as you approach Yancy and listen to some of the gang hurry to catch and call dibs on it. “While a killer goes free and strikes again to clean up loose ends? While my mom sits home alone, worried about me? She already went through losing my dad and my brother, do you think--”

“I told youse on Day One, Eagle,” Yancy snaps, “the past ain’t to be trifled with. If youse’s mum supposedly ‘cares’ about you so much, why’s she not visited? Some loving ma you’ve got there--”

“Because I told her not to, you idiot!”

Yancy freezes mid-accusatory finger point. “Youse--what?”

You look around and get close enough for no one else but Yancy to hear you. The two of you are already drawing eyes to your positions. “Do you think I want my mom to see me like this? She knows I could die in here, I know I could still die in here, and I don’t want her last memory of me to be one where I’m covered in blood and bruises and cuts, she already had to see me like that when I was in high school.”

“Every story I hear about youse’s life on the outside depresses the hell out of me, but that’s besides the point.” The anger in his voice is barely contained. “How about we talk about the fact that youse plan to leave the family here behind? What, youse didn’t like the cell renovations we made after your Nightly Poetry Reading?”

“Yes, I love the comfortable mattress and fur rug and the lamp and the non-itchy, non-bloodstained blankets that keep me warm at night, but Yancy, I can’t stay. Even if we catch the guy who put a hit out on me, who’s to say I won’t get a shiv in the back by someone who doesn’t want their parole? You think I don’t hear you telling other inmates about that little tactic? You’re not quiet at all about it!”

“I was hoping you’d get the hint, Eagle! We don’t want you to go! Do youse really think I’d let anyone kill you?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, Yancy!” you finally shout back.

As soon as the words leave your lips you realize just how true they are. This man has both rescued you and killed for you and called you ridiculous names and comforted you and plotted the deaths of inmates and guards in front of you and it honestly has turned you in circles because despite all of that, despite your moral compass, you really like this complicated mess of a man.

But this is not the time to unpack this increasingly weird relationship you have with him. “Yancy, can you really look me in the eye and promise that I won’t get killed in here?”

Yancy’s mouth opens and closes several times before eventually he shoves you away from him, as if that’ll distract you from the hurt in his eyes. “I shoulda guessed that the Legal Eagle would get too high and mighty for us jailbirds!”

“Yancy--”

“Youse just like my dad! Standing there and judging me like youse think you know better, like youse so much better than me just because youse’s hands are clean?!” He puts his fists up. “Why don’t you get them dirty for once?”

Oh, this bastard. He’s going to make you do it, isn’t he? He’s really going to make you fight him. You put your arms on your hips. “Yancy, stop, you’re being ridiculous--”

He aims a punch at your face and you block it on instinct. You repeat his name but he just tries to hit you again, so that time you block his fist and manage to land a blow to his abdomen.

Fine. Let’s do this.

Yancy may be a rather talented inmate scrapper with a great right hook (you learn a moment later as your eye pulses in pain) but you’ve also boxed three times a week for half your life (because you needed some kind of extracurricular outlet to deal with the frustration of being a non-white academic overachiever) and have learned how to defend yourself pretty damn well.

By the time the fight gets anywhere, your eye is blackening and blood is running from your nose, while Yancy’s sporting several cuts on his face and a split lip. You manage to land several hits in a row before knocking Yancy back in a daze.

“Stand. Down,” you order in a growling tone.

It’s the first and only time you have given anyone here a real command, and you are certainly in no mood for anyone to test the raging anger and frustration lashing underneath your skin just because this idiot that you can’t get out of your head doesn’t know how to talk about his issues like a healthy human being.

(The more rational part of your mind is willing to acknowledge that judging by the rumors about his childhood, there are reasons behind his inability to deal with people in a different capacity, but the rational part of your mind is currently tied up and locked in a trunk until further notice.)

Yancy stares back at you, blood dripping from his lip and staining his shirt. The fury is still brimming in his eyes, but you think you can catch a glimmer of reluctant respect and something else. Something...sad.

But you’re no longer in any mood to read into Yancy’s odd, conflicting behavior. It’s a miracle that none of the guards came to break the two of you apart. You have no intention of pushing your luck.

You push through the crowd that had gathered to watch this unprecedented event and leave the yard, praying that people think the tears running down your face are from your injuries.

---

Link to Chapter 5 here!

Thank you for reading! Please relbog/comment! If you want to be tagged/untagged for the rest of this series or this pairing, please leave a message in my inbox!

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#kat writes #ahwm yancy #ahwm #y/n district attorney #wkm #a heist with markiplier #who killed markiplier #emotionally charged fistfights are a weakness of mine #also because it's me #next chapter makes everything fifty times worse

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q-u-a-c-k · 3 years

Text

rant that you can just skip over 😂 it's just detailed intrusive thoughts. and I'm continuing to rant about literally everything that goes through my brain so I am here writing this and not acting on thoughts or being stupid.

okay so this is a note from after I have written all that. and basically it's complaining and ranting about everything and hyperfixating on space and science in the end. in the middle I talk about my fears of love 😂 potentially triggering stuff? it's all nonsense you really dont have to read it. it was just to keep myself from doing something I shouldn't. so if you could be triggered by literally anything maybe dont? idk. I cant stop you but it's probably annoying and not interesting. if anyone does read it though let me know if I need to tag it anything.

So my brain has now decided that because there is no way I am sleeping tonight unless it's exhaustion, I get intrusive thoughts. fun! so rn it has been fixated on the fact that because I am closest to the outside. not hall door. that I could easily sneak out. which is very much not good idea, because 1) I dont live in this area, 2) it's still cold as fuck outside at night, 3) I would literally fucking get lost or caught immediately. So yeah :) I dont even know what I would do if I did go and I don't want to because I have an idea of what brain would say and that's a big no. it's especially big no because I'm too comfortable with the idea of it but I'm not allowed to. and I guess now it's kinda good because brain is thinking about how I miss my cat. I just wanna see my baby and be in my safe place with the people I'm actually comfortable with (cat and phone with online friends) like guys he's so fuckung adorable and what if he doesnt know why I'm not there right now. usually he sleeps in my room at night. so what if he's in my room waiting for me and I cant go see him. you're damn right that I'm crying about this. i just want my baby because he is my baby and an indicator of a safe place.

also I am so incredibly fucking uncomfortable. like I cannot sleep because 1) in a place I do not know 2) there are people (family) in the room that I am not comfortable letting my guard down around 3) there's so much noise from snoring (and from one sleep talking) 4) I am on the couch because when we go places I'm always the one who has to and it's a shitty pull out bed couch. it makes way too much noise that I have been in an uncomfortable position for over 3 hours because I dint want to disturb anyone else. and I can very easily feel like of the metal bars under the middle of my back 5) I am very cold. I forgot a blanket and I didnt get one because the room only gave us one extra one (I dont think we're supposed to have an extra person) ad my sister got it even though I'm the one by the outsid,door, window, and air conditioner which wont turn off. I at least have my flannel though to cover my legs 6) my head hurts so bad because it's the kind of headache that hurts to have eyes open, breath, or move around in general 7) my stomach hurts so bad because I had to eat because apparently people get hungry and are supposed to eat along with anxiety from literally all of this 8) I have not gotten to be alone for more than 10 minutes since the middle of Wednesday whereas usually I spend almsot all of my time alone (with cat and phone with online friends) in my safe place. 9) I have not stopped crying (not really like crying crying but like there has been tears or water from my eyes because for some reason they burn and some because of anxiety or missing cat. 10) I keep thinking that at any moment I close my eyes someone is going to break into the room or one of my family members are gonna do something (I literally dont know what, that's intrusive thoughts talking but I have previously freaked out because I thought they were gonna aliven't me for no reason) 11) When I'm somewhere I'm not used to I get really bad muscle cramps in my arms and legs and I am not having fun with that.

sorry that was a shit ton of complaining that nobody should have read or give a shit about. so sorry if anyone actually read that?

also Allison, if you actually do read this (istg you really dont have to. like I said this is just my train of thoughts written to prevent me from doing anything. I am not watching wandavision until later today 😂 and I am staying off the discord server I joined becuas of potential spoilers.

anyways continuation of rants and complaints. I really want to put the phone down and attempt to sleep even though I know I'm not gonna be able to and for that reason I have to write here because I do not trust myself with my brain being like this rn. but I wanna put phone down so bad because my eyes hurt and my head hurts from having eyes open.

and I really wanna just get my earbuds out and have controlled noise and potentially fall asleep but that would take noise louder than them to drown them out but any noise already is hurting my head and earbuds sound really uncomfortable right now.

also I'm starting to get really cold again because the flannel was working for a little but I think that was because I had to move a little bit to get it out and on my legs and I haven't been moving.

also my sister (sleep.talker) has been just making noises and mumbling all night except just now she went "eww" and rolled over and continued snoring and sleeping. so that's fun. totally didnt scare me.

oh my God it's fuckung almost 3:30 I just wanna sleep. at this rate I dont care in what way it happens, but I want sleep in the next 10 minutes so I cannot be aware of how uncomfortable or in pain I am.

my back (which usually already has back pain) connot stand to lay on the bar in this position anymore so I have to move but it's so loud and I dont wanna wake anyone up or move into a worse position but feel bad for moving.

I have now moved and I dont THINK I woken anyone up. back is better but head hurts so much more now because of movement and I am now laying on my knee which I have a lot of problems with and am not having a fun time.

idk what to talk about. I want sleep or to at least put phone down but like I said multiple times I do not trust my brain rn so I have to keep writing stuff. and I dont want to just keep complaining but idk what to talk about and complaining is easiest rn because I was out in an uncomfortable situation by coming with them and I didnt want to in the first place but would not be able to stay home.

I am now gonna talk about sleep and my thoughts about it. I like being asleep but I also dont. I like being not awake but most of the time do not like the dreams I have. but sleep itself is such an interesting concept. like the body forces itself to shut down and put you unconscious to like rest itself or repair before continuing to function. and it's like (supposed to be) on a specific or close to schedule. like youre supoosed to have a schedule for when you're unconscious. and this is completely normal. a part of our society is actually shaped around this too? like at certain times around the world it gets all dark and the world goes quiet for a while. idk I just think it's really interesting. maybe it's not idk lmao.

and now brain wants to talk about how and why I am afraid to love. :). brain is afraid to love because that means I have to be vulnerable to someone and that's just so terrifying to do, especially being someone who is different than a lot of the heteronormative society. like I absolutely love my friends. and once I'm comfortable around them, I'm gonna tell them that I love them as much as I can (but also dont want to make them uncomfortable). because if I finally feel comfortable enough around you to be vulnerable and accept that I love you despite brain's overwhelming urge to say I don't and be invulnerable and safe, I'm gonna tell you that as much as I can that I love you. because it literally happens so little in my life that I actually really trust someone. so if I tell you I love you I mean it (and it tells you I trust you). like seriously, I barely even say it to my mom because I'm so on guard and trying to watch my back around her. and I dont think I say it to the rest of my family. unless it's my grandparents I'm gonna tell them that because I think I do just in a different way of your my grandparent and you're family. and I occasionally say it to my irl best friend because there's still a lot I'm on guard about because I haven't told her a lot of things so we're not as close as you'd think. but if you're reading this I have probably told you i love you. and i know Allison i tell you as much as i can because I think yyou'rethe absolute top person that I trust and love, so i try to tell you a lot. because I love you!! you're like my entire found family 😂

but now we're gonna talk about reasons why I'm terrified to be in love romantically. Because I dont think i have actually liked someone romantically or really ever be romantically interested in anyone. I have thought about it because I felt like I had to tell myself I was ( I was not). like i thought I had a crush on someone once but I think it was because I was unable to be their friend at the time that I wanted to be their friend even more. and because I never really got to pick my friends I didnt know what it was like to actually want to be friends with someone. but thinking about someone romantically I just cant really do. because I don't want to get into a romantic relationship if I don't know if I'm gonna like them romantically at all. do people like people romantically when they first go out with someone? or do they just say I kinda like this person let's try it out? because that just doesnt make sense to me and idk. and it could very well be that I'm just to young to know yet. because I still dont even know what I would want from a romantic relationship. like... Idk what there is for me to want or what's different to loving your friends besides calling them something else? and the whole having to trust that this person likes you in a specific way that you might like them before you take it far enough and get hurt because they just don't feel the same? or you're the one that's not really sure and potentially hurt someone else? I know people say it's just a risk you're gonna have to take but I dont want to take a risk like that. I dont mind being hurt from it myself but in terrified at the thought that I could potentially hurt someone because I just dint feel a certain way. and I still dont know what the difference is between friend love or romantic love to be able to judge or risk that? like seriously what is different? because I mean, maybe affection like have someone to hug or cuddle? but you could do that with friends and it should be a normal thing to have with your friends. but ig this still is a fucked up society that thinks everything has to be more than what it really is. and it just leaves people touch starved because of it. idk. maybe one day I'll figure it out, but how it's just Greek and foreign to me. idfk.

well that was fun. now it's 4 and I need something else to talk about because even if I do potentially fall alseep soon, I do not want those to be my last thoughts and possibly have dream about it (dreams for me are typically not good).

I think I see the moon. it's either a moon or a parking lot light. and I know the moon is either full or very close to full (I'm pretty sure it's just very. close) but I wish all of those lights outside were off and possibly have a new moon so I could see the stars. I love the stars so much. i love the moon, too, but right now it's very bright. but I wish I was more into astronomy and knew more about it. because that's also something that's very interesting to me is space and the stars. I wanna be someone who knows about all of the constellations. but I have a horrible memory and absolutely would not be able to remember 88 different stories. although I'd want to. even though most of them or a bunch are just Zeus being a dick. but more to the science side of the stars is so interesting to me that they're soooooo far away. like they're literally incomprehensibly far away. like I cannot comprehend how big a football field is without see one, I'm agine being able to comprehend the distance of light years? like I know we know how far it is but I'm pretty sure human minds cannot comprehend how far that ACTUALLY is. even if we know it's a LOT. and isnt it cool how we're able to know there are other planets outside of the solar system? I believe it's 4 different planets that we know of that are MORE inhabitable than earth. like better to live on. and they have either older or stronger stars that wouldn't die out as fast as our sun. although there comes the debate of if we should be able to go to them. it's a very debatable question, but I think overall the answer would be no. because humans have fucked up an entire planet, why should we be allowed to do it to another? like it realize it's literally a percent of humans that fucked it up for the rest of the planet, but humans have an inner need to have power over everyone else and other things and would stop at nothing to get what they want. humans could so easily become corrupt and destroy other planets too. it's kind of a fucked up thing to say, but I feel like maybe humans should die out with our planet. like of course it's not fair to the ones who haven't had the chance to live a life yet. but it was never fair to the other creatures humans killed for their own needs. like we have caused extinction several times. karma will get you back in the end ig. and it would be cool to know but obviously we wouldnt be able to know, if a species even smarter than humans evolved and kept the peace on earth, even as the ruling species? ruling sounds wrong but idk what else to call it. whatever we are above everything else is what they would be. but it would be so amazing to know what smarter beings are alive or could eventually live. like that's so fucking cool.

anyways I should probably try to sleep or put phone down because now brian doesnt have time to let me do anything I shouldnt. it's 4:30 😂 someone is probably gonna wake up soon because idk.

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skzsauce01 · 5 years

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Magic Words

Description: You resurrect Hyunjin while studying for your exams. There’s no way you’re telling him the first thing you thought of his cold, dead body was that he’s hot.

Warning: dead bodies, criminal activity

Word count: 6.3k

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader, bestfriend!Chan

Special thanks to ad.gold who helped edit and write!

Maybe breaking into the university hospital in the middle of the night isn’t the best idea, you think to yourself. Although is it really breaking in if you have a key?

You scan the area around you for security guards one last time before you reach into hoodie pocket for the set of keys Chan gave you. Being friends with one of the work study janitorial staff has its perks. You still can’t believe he let you borrow them without a fight. This is a terrible idea, you think to yourself. A terrible, awful, extremely illegal idea that could land both you and Chan into jail.

The one marked with blue painter’s tape fits into the lock just like Chan said, and you hear a small click as you turn the key.

You let out a sigh of relief and hurry inside, making sure to quietly close the door. Your backpack hits the frame, and the sound echoes across the empty hallway. You dart into the stairwell, hoping no one heard the noise. Thankfully, no one comes running, and you can breathe again.

Alright. All you need to do is get down into the morgue, open up a couple of body bags, and study the dead bodies.

This is a really bad idea.

Why did Chan let you do this?

After a few more glances around, you take the stairs down, taking slow and quiet steps. Your heart pounds with every move. One hand grips the bannister, and the other hand covers your mouth in an attempt to muffle your hyperventilation.

A few agonizing minutes later, you arrive at the entrance. The other key Chan lent you opens it, and you get a face full of cold air when you walk in. You shut the door behind you, ensuring that it is locked. There are no bodies on the examining table, so you clear a cart and open the morgue fridge closest to you. You pick a random body bag and slide it onto the cart. The corpse is a little too heavy and tall for your small frame, and you wish you recruited someone to come with you.

With a lot of effort, you manage to get your study subject onto the examining table. You drop your backpack onto the floor before unwrapping the shroud. There’s a blue tag stating the cause of death attached to the wrapping, but you don’t look at it. You need to find out on your own.

You take a step back to get a full view of the corpse. It’s a male about your age, and it looks like he just recently died.

“Wow, he’s hot.” You never knew a dead person could be so… well, attractive. You shake your head, dissipating the thought of developing necrophilia.

“Hello there,” you say. You always feel that you should treat the dead with respect, so you speak to them as if they were still alive and present. “I have an exam tomorrow, and I need some practice. I hope you don’t mind me studying you.”

You take out your notebook and pen from your backpack. First, you write down observations (“face swelling,” “bumps on neck,” and “rash on arm”). When you can no longer find anything else of significance from merely looking at it, you take some gloves from the box in the wall and approach the body.

“I’m really sorry,” you whisper, “but I have to pass that exam. I’m just going to take a closer look at you.”

You gently poke his skin. He’s still firm, confirming your suspicion of it being a recent death. Upon closer inspection, you can see that his skin is tinted a very pale blue.

Realization hits you. “I bet I know how you died!” you excitedly whisper. You write down “allergic reaction” on your notebook and check the blue tag, which says “anaphylaxis”. “I was right!” you cheer. You make a mental note to use proper medical terms on your exam.

Before you can look at other bodies, you need to put this one back into the fridge.

“Thank you”– you check the tag for the body’s name– “Hwang Hyunjin.”

You drape the shroud over him and tie the binding back together in a butterfly knot and prepare to push the body onto the cart.

It’s a struggle to get it on without making any loud noises. The cart won’t stay still, and Hwang Hyunjin is too heavy for you to handle, so he keeps slipping out of your grip.

“Stop moving!” you hiss at nothing in particular.

“Let me out then!”

You freeze. The body bag moves in your arms, and you drop it. You back away– far, far away.

Breathe, you tell yourself. It’s late at night, and you drank way too much coffee before coming here. It’s just a hallucination caused by your paranoia.

“Let me out!” the same voice repeats.

“Y/N, pull it together!” you say out loud. “It’s not real.” You slap your cheeks a few times. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“You’ll let me out?”

You walk back to the examining table. “Nice try, guilty conscience,” you mutter to yourself. You resume trying to load the body onto the cart.

“Wait! I’m actually alive!”

“You’re a dead body. Tag says you died.” Goodness, it’s moving again. Chan was right; no more caffeine after 8 PM.

“Just open the bag and check!”

“You’re a figment of my imagination.”

“I’m moving around!”

“Could you move yourself back into the fridge?” Look at yourself, having full-on conversations with a corpse. Your classmates would have a field day if they saw you.

“Only after you open the bag.”

Maybe if you indulge in this stupid hallucination, it will go away. You untie the bindings and throw the shroud off.

“See? It’s…” You trail off when you see that his eyes are open and staring back at you.

He already looks terrifying, but then he waves and gives you a teasing smile. “I told you so.”

The normal thing to do would be to run out of the morgue and back into your apartment where you would bury yourself under a pile of blankets and convince yourself that it was all a caffeine-and-stress induced nightmare.

Instead, you stand there and say “You’re supposed to be dead” in a strangled voice.

He stands up, not realizing he’s completely naked. Now that you know he’s no longer dead, the sight becomes too awkward. You quickly dart your eyes elsewhere, stammering incoherent nothings to try to ease your nervousness. He’s naked and he’s very attractive, you think. He, just as flustered, scrambles to lift his body bag in front of himself.

“So, why aren’t you dead?” you cough.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You must have done something!”

“Maybe you did something,” he suggests. “Are you a med student? Med students know how to do weird things.”

“Pre-med,” you correct. “And we can’t bring people back to life.”

He gasps. “I bet you’re a necromancer! That’s it!”

You ignore his nonsensical babbling and pull out your phone. You have to call Chan. It’s only 2 AM, thankfully; he’s still going to be awake.

“Hello?” you say.

He greets you with, “Are you in trouble?”

“Not really? It’s debatable.” There’s a not-so-dead body in front of you, and he’s going on and on about witchcraft and bringing the dead back. Why did you have to pick a crazy one?

“What did you do?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He yells something, but you continue. “Can you come to the morgue? And can you bring some pants?”

“Y/N, if you did something with a dead body-”

“I didn’t do anything!” you shriek.

Hwang Hyunjin takes this opportunity to chime in with “Yes, you did.”

You groan and glare at him. “Do you want to die again? I can make it happen.”

“Who is that?!” Chan shouts. You can hear him moving around, presumably to leave your shared apartment. “And what do you mean ‘again?’ Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I’ll explain it when you get here. And make sure to bring some pants with you.”

“Why do you need pants?!” You hear a door slam shut and Chan running.

“Just bring them.” You look over to the boy on the table, remember he’s naked, and switch your gaze back to the floor. “And come quick.”

“Did you hook up with someone? Geez, Y/N! Why would you even do it at the morgue!”

“It’s nothing like that!” you wail. “I’ll explain it all later.”

“Seriously, if you did something, tell me! I won’t judge!”

“Yeah, just tell him!” Hyunjin adds. “She did something really cool to a dead body! Guess what it is!” he says a little louder.

“You really have a death wish, don’t you?” you hiss over Chan’s screaming.

Chan won’t stop shouting, Hwang Hyunjin won’t shut up, and you can’t decide who you want dead more– the one who keeps accusing you of necrophilia or the one who keeps making the situation worse.

“See you later, Chan!” you say as cheerfully as you can. Before he can argue, you end the call.

You turn to Hyunjin and stab a finger at his chest. “I am going to kill you very painfully and slowly and make you wish you were dead again.” Your voice loses its venom when you realize that you have a bigger problem on your hands. “How did this even happen?”

“I think you brought me back to life,” he quietly says. “It sounds dumb, but there’s no other explanation. According to my tag, I’ve been dead for a week now; this can’t just be a Lazarus phenomenon.”

“If that’s true, then I should have brought back at least ten other dead bodies in my anatomy class. But guess what? There’s not.” You sigh. “Dang it, I promised Chan that I wouldn’t get into trouble. He’s going to be so mad at me.”

“That’s partially my fault.” He pats your head in you think is supposed to be a reassuring matter. “Sorry for pissing him off. I just wanted to get back at you for not letting me out sooner.”

Normally, you would say something like “It’s fine” or “It’s no big deal,” but you are tired and the additional stress of not knowing what is happening rains on your mood, so you instead mutter, “I’m going to kill you.”

The door swings open, and Chan stands hunched over in the frame, breathing heavily. When he takes in the scene in front of him, he groans.

“Y/N, I thought you said you didn’t hook up with anyone.” He walks over to you and tosses the pair of pants to Hyunjin.

“I didn’t!” You turn the other way and let Hyunjin dress himself.

“Why is he naked then?”

“She just brought me back to life. I told you she did something really cool to a dead body,” Hyunjin answers. “I’m decent now,” he tells you to cue you to turn back around.

“Is this a prank?” Chan asks. “Is this why you wanted my key? Who is this guy anyway?”

Animosity forgotten, Hyunjin asks Chan, “How did you get in if Y/N has the key? And I’m Hyunjin.” He sticks out his hand for the other male to shake.

Chan shakes his hand and flashes a thin silver key. “I’m Chan. I’m also the head janitor here, so I have a universal key.”

Is this really happening? You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing things right. The two guys that were screaming at each other earlier are having a civil conversation, and you’re pretty sure they’re exchanging work out tips now.

“Can we focus on the issue here?” you interrupt. “He was dead and now he’s alive.”

“So, it’s not a prank?” He looks at Hyunjin. “You were actually dead?”

“Yeah.” Hyunjin replies. “I have a cat allergy. A cat scratched me, and I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

You’re standing in-between them, so you wave your arms and get both of their attention. “Back to the main subject: what do we do?”

“You study for the exam, and Hyunjin and I will figure it out,” Chan suggests.

The exam. In the midst of the drama, you almost forgot about it. Your grade is on the line, but Hyunjin seems to be the bigger issue here.

“We need to figure out what to do with this guy first,” you protest.

Chan shakes his head and pulls out another body. “You came here for this; you need to finish it. I’ll figure Hyunjin out.”

“But–”

“No but’s,” Chan says with such finality in his voice that you give in. You try to eavesdrop on the two males and their discussion on how Hyunjin is alive and what to do with him, but Chan catches you staring and scolds you until you turn back to your work with a huff.

It’s 4 AM, and your head is filled with medical terminology and the whisperings of Chan and Hyunjin. For the past two hours, you identified causes of death for nearly fifteen corpses, none of which came alive. Meanwhile, the two made themselves comfortable on another examining table and chatted about solutions. They sometimes put back and pull out more bodies for you, but they always stop talking when they do so as to not distract you.

When the words start blurring on your notebook pages, you announce that you’re done and that it’s time to leave.

Chan seems satisfied with your work and agrees. “Hyunjin, you can stay with us.”

You shake your head. “What if they find out they’re missing a body? He can’t leave.”

“We can’t tie him back up and shove him back in the fridge either.”

“Yes, we can.”

“Y/N!” they both yell.

Chan pauses to think. “How about I’ll tell the higher-ups that I was taking the trash from the morgue tomorrow morning and when I came in, I heard banging from the inside of the fridge?”

“I don’t want to stay here all night,” Hyunjin complains. “Or appear on the evening news for being a medical miracle either.”

“What else can we do? We can’t just steal you!” you argue.

Hyunjin seems rather enthused about the idea. “Just do that! You guys don’t even have to carry me! I’ll walk out with you guys!”

“Chan, say something!”

“He can stay with us. At least until we figure this out.”

It’s 4 AM; you don’t have time for this. You stretch and gather your things. “Fine. But if we get caught, I’m telling the police it was all your idea,” you tell Chan.

“Thanks for letting me stay!” He heads for the door, but you stop him.

“Well just pants isn’t going to cut it,” you sigh. You thrust your hoodie towards him. “Here.”

He looks at it with a frown. “But you’re going to be cold.”

“I have a shirt at least,” you rebuttal. “Just take it. You’re the one who came out a freezer.”

“Just take it,” Chan supports. “She’ll be fine.”

You feel a soft weight plop on your head and recognize the sleeve of Chan’s gray jacket draping over your vision.

“You could have given it to me normally,” you grumble. You thread your hands into the sleeves anyway, liking how they can cover your hands.

Chan just sticks his tongue out at you, and Hyunjin quickly pulls your hoodie over himself now that he knows you will be fine.

“You smell nice,” he mumbles as his nose barely peaks out of your clothing.

“Thanks, I guess? Alright, let’s go.”

The walk back is the most stressful trip you’ve ever taken in your life. Every five seconds, you turn your head around to check for security guards while trying to look natural at the same time. You let out a sigh of relief when all three of you manage to make it to the front door of your and Chan’s shared apartment without getting thrown into jail.

Once inside, you and Chan wave goodnight to Hyunjin who makes himself comfortable on the couch. You and Chan head in yourselves, you ask him, “Did you figure out why he’s alive?”

“Not yet,” he replies. When you yawn, he chuckles. “Let’s just have you focus on getting some sleep and doing well tomorrow, okay?”

“I know, I know. Good night.”

“Good luck on your exam, Y/N!” Hyunjin calls.

He gives you an encouraging smile with a blanket under his chin, and your breath suddenly hitches.

“Yeah, thanks,” you reply while turning to the side to try to forget his unfairly beautiful face. Why is your heart speeding up? You curse at yourself. He was literally dead flesh not a tenth of a day ago; he shouldn’t be able to have this effect on you.

Despite getting only three hours of sleep, you think you did well on the exam. You almost fell asleep during the first five minutes, but you caught yourself thinking about Hyunjin’s smile, and that thought alone jolted you awake.

As you walk out of the lab, you see Chan waiting for you outside.

“Hey,” you greet. You look behind him but your other roommate isn’t there. “Where’s Hyunjin?”

He tosses you a granola bar. “At a job interview. How was the exam?”

“Not too bad. Spending two hours in the morgue last night helped. Thanks, by the way.” You gratefully unwrap and start eating the snack. “So, you just left Hyunjin alone?”

“He’ll be fine. It’s not like he’ll get attacked or anything.”

“And how the heck is he going to get hired when he’s technically dead?”

“I’m a criminal who burned his death certificate. He’s still alive now.”

You nearly choke on your granola bar. “What? Aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one?”

“Look, we already stole his body. Foot in the door phenomenon.”

“Have you been reading my psych book over my shoulder?”

He shrugs. “I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“Are you sure this is okay? We could get into so much trouble.”

Chan flashes you an assuring smile. “When has anything I’ve done ever gone wrong. Besides, you can just tell the police it was all my doing if it does,” he adds with a wink, referring to what you said that morning.

You open your mouth to point out a time he did mess up only to discover you can’t remember a time he did.

“Can you come to the library with me?” he asks. “I want to do some necromancy research.”

You groan and roll your eyes, but follow him anyway. “You seriously bought into his conspiracy theory?”

“It doesn’t hurt to check.”

“What are we supposed to do?” you whisper to Chan once you are there. “Go up to the librarian and ask if they have any books about raising the dead?”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Chan drags you to the circulation desk, and you frantically pull his jacket sleeve to stop him.

“I was kidding!

“It’s RACHA U. They’ll just think we’re a bunch of weird kids.”

You sigh and let go of his sleeve. “Whatever.” You wait for him to continue walking, but he doesn’t. “What’s wrong?”

“Y/N, you have to go ask. You look like you’re into occult stuff more than I do.” He gestures to your oversized sweater and black combat boots. “Besides, you have a weird enough face for it.”

You glare at him, but that only further justifies his point. He gently shoves you forward, and you smile brightly at the librarian. Chan owes you big time.

“Good morning!” you say in a chipper voice that you can hardly believe is yours. You can see Chan wincing at the sound.“I was wondering if you have any books about raising the dead or witchcraft?”

The middle-aged lady only glances at you before telling you, “Third floor, 100-199. Make sure you put the books back in the right place.”

You enthusiastically nod and say in the same bright voice, “Thank you so much!”

The bookshelves labelled 100 to 199 are tucked in the back corner of the floor. You pick a random one and scan the selection. It’s mostly books on philosophy, and you wonder if the librarian sent you here to tell you to reconsider your life choices.

“I’m done with this,” you groan after a few minutes.

“Fine.” Chan sweeps your book towards himself.

You let out a sigh of relief and pull out your textbook, something actually worthwhile and realistic. You and Chan fall silent as you both dive into your respective texts. He drops a few books onto the table, and every time he does, you scoff at the titles.

“You nonbeliever,” enters a new voice. “Shame the nonbeliever.”

You and Chan look up to see Hyunjin who moves to sit by Y/N. He slides you both a coffee and your fingers brush as you take it from him.

“The interview went well then?” Chan asks while raising up his cup in thanks.

Your hand burns in the spots where he touched you. You place the fingertips of your other hand on it to try to ease the alien feeling to no avail.

“Yeah, I got the job, and they gave me some coffee as congrats.”

“Oh, nice. Make sure to give us discounts when we go over to the cafe.”

“Which cafe?” you ask to distract yourself from your still burning hand.

“Yellow Wood. It’s pretty quiet there, so you can study there sometime.”

You nod, suddenly gaining an interest the corner cafe you usually pass without notice.

“So, what have we found so far?” Hyunjin inquires, peering at Chan’s book.

“Not much. Although I think a recurring point in these books is that necromancers all need to say a spell before their magic works. It’s different for everyone,” Chan answers.

You can feel their attention shift to you.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin begins, “Do you remember saying something before you said hello to me? That was the first thing I heard.”

You thought for a second and then nearly spit out your coffee when you remember the one and only thing you said in the morgue before greeting him. There is no way you are admitting to saying that. No way.

“No,” you squeak out, your voice even higher than it was when you were talking to the librarian. “I don’t remember anything.”

“She’s lying,” Chan calls you out. “She pulls her sleeves over her hands like that when she lies.”

You quickly hide your hands under the table. Dang it, Chan knew you too well.

Hyunjin chuckles. “Aww.”

“If you heard me say hello, why didn’t you move then?” you ask in an attempt to change the subject.

“I couldn’t move yet,” Hyunjin answers. “And because you said you had an exam to study for. I wanted to help.”

“What did you say?” Chan tries again. “Don’t dodge the question.”

“I’m not going to tell you,” you reply as you heat creep up your cheeks. “It’s something personal.”

“We’ve been friends for ages,” Chan reminds. “You can tell me. I won’t judge.”

Yes, you will, you think. Because even you’re judging your poor choice of words.

“It doesn’t matter. This ‘necromancy’ thing is a load of bull, anyway.” The last part comes out louder and harsher than you intended, and you awkwardly sip your coffee and try to ignore the stares from the both of them.

Chan sees your discomfort and decides to drop the subject. He goes back to gathering books, but Hyunjin stays by your side, with his head resting on his forearms.

“You’re not going to help him?” you ask, taking care to sound nonchalant.

“I’m just trying to figure out how to apologize to you.”

You laugh. “Shouldn’t you be thanking me? I supposedly brought you back after all.”

His voice is soft when he says, “I know I’m a bother. I want to know why I’m here, but I don’t want to make you stress over it.”

“Chan’s the one stressing over it, not me.”

“Then what did you say before you said hello?”

You shut your textbook and stuff your papers in your bag. You can’t tell him, and there’s no way he’s going to give it up like Chan did.

“Thanks for the coffee. I just remembered I gotta go… buy a new notebook. I’m running out of pages in mine,” you make up. “Bye.”

You practically run out of the library, and you hear him call your name. He doesn’t follow you, thank goodness.

When you’re finally outside, you pause to rest. With nowhere else to go and because you need to keep up the lie, you head to the campus store and buy an overpriced notebook. Your bank account cries, but it’s better than Hyunjin finding out.

Returning to the library isn’t an option, so you go back home. You’d have to face the two boys again later, but at least for now you can relish in your moment of not being under an interrogation light. It doesn’t last long, however. You only get through reading half of the next chapter of your textbook when you hear Chan’s keys jiggling in the doorknob.

“Did you buy your notebook already?” Chan asks, raising one eyebrow.

Jokes on him though. You smirk and hold up your brand new purchase. “Isn’t it nice?”

“Not nice enough for fifteen dollars.”

You silently agree. “Are you guys done with your ‘research?’”

Chan ignores your sarcasm. Or maybe he doesn’t care. “Almost. We just need you to test out our idea.”

“I already told you. It’s not gonna work anyway.”

You swear you hear them murmur, “Nonbeliever.”

“You can try on your own and tell us if it works or not after,” Hyunjin offers.

There’s a very big flaw to his plan, but you don’t say anything about it. “Look, even if I believed in this theory of yours, we can’t exactly go back to the morgue and bring back another dead body.”

“What if you tried on an animal?” Hyunjin suggests. “RACHA U has a lot of animals around.”

“Great. You can kill a squirrel for me then.”

“Roadkill, Y/N,” Chan sighs. “We’ll just find some roadkill.”

“Even better. You can run over a squirrel, and I’ll wait on the sidelane.”

Chan sighs again, but you can see Hyunjin suppressing a smile. You and Hyunjin exchange looks, and he gives you a small, secretive grin.

“Dinner?” Chan changes the subject. “We can go to Yellow Wood and make Hyunjin give us a discount.”

You start packing as Hyunjin says, “I’m not even working the evening shift!”

“What? They don’t give out employee discounts?” Chan looks to you. “Ready?”

“You’re buying me dinner for making me ask the librarian.”

Hyunjin interjects, “It’s okay, Y/N. I’ll buy you dinner.”

“I didn’t give you $50 for you to do stuff like this,” Chan tsks.

“I’ll buy yours too.”

“Now we’re talking.”

Much to Chan’s disappointment, there are no employee discounts. Much to Chan’s pleasure, he doesn’t need to pay today.

“Thanks, Hyunjin,” you say as he places a turkey sandwich in front of you.

“No problem,” he replies and immediately turns to get you a cup of water.

“Is this the roadkill you were talking about, Chan?” you tease as you flip open the sandwich to add a few stripes of mayo.

“Try saying the words loud and clear if that’s what you think,” he shoots back.

“Abracadabra,” you humor him with a scoff.

Before Chan can retort back, Hyunjin returns with the cup of water.

“Where’s my water?” asks Chan with a childish pout.

“Get your own.” You stick your tongue out at him before thanking Hyunjin with a smile.

“No problem,” replies Hyunjin. You think you see him blush, but you don’t want to believe he would do that because of you.

The three of you eat your sandwiches while making light conversation. About halfway through your sandwich, Chan’s phone rings, and he excuses himself from the table. When he comes back, he doesn’t sit down but instead stuffs his sandwich in his mouth.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I have a shift right now. I have to go,” he apologizes.

You and Hyunjin wave goodbye. It’s just the two of you, alone. You avoid eye contact with Hyunjin while still trying to maintain a normal, friendly conversation.

Hyunjin, however, has other ideas. “Is this a date?”

You flush red and try to cover your face with your hair. “No. It’s just two people eating together.”

“So, a date?”

“Two people eating together is not a date.” The back of your neck feels hot, and you focus on the traffic lights outside.

He senses your discomfort and offers you a smile which makes you lose your sense of objection.

“Ask me out properly next time,” you grumble into your bread.

Hyunjin’s face lights up like a puppy but then falters. “Will Chan be okay with it?”

“Yeah, I think so,” you blink, confused. “Why wouldn’t he?”

“I thought maybe–” You can see him visibly relax. “Nevermind.”

You are relaxing with some BGA music when Chan rudely obscures your vision by dropping a dissection tray in front of you.

“Chan!” you yell. “What the heck!”

In the tray is a very-much dead squirrel.

“I found it while on my shift. We can test out the necromancy theory now,” Chan grins victoriously.

“And you bring it into my room?!” You bring a hand in front of your face. The dead animal smell is going to permanently taint your room now.

“Unless you wanna do it in the living room? Hyunjin’s there getting ready to sleep,” shrugs Chan.

“Restroom,” you propose while pushing past him. “I’ll try it there.”

You slam the door behind you and turn on all the faucets to drown out the noise. “No eavesdropping!” you yell.

You look at the rodent in front of you with a sigh. You tuck your nose inside your hoodie and begin with, “Hi Mr. Squirrel. I’m sorry I have to use you to indulge in Chan’s stupid plans. You could’ve been resting peacefully in some compost bin right now.”

You let out a huff of air and place your hands above it. “Here we go.” You close your eyes and whisper, “Wow, he’s hot.”

You quickly tap the corpse with your fingers for some extra magic before opening your eyes. Sure enough, the little brown animal begins to blink awake. A yelp of surprise leaves your lips and you jump, bumping into the towel rack.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Hyunjin bursts through the door with worry evident in his eyes.

“I-it–”

“It worked!” Chan exclaims from outside.

The squirrel twitches, and you hide behind Hyunjin.

“There’s another problem now! We have a squirrel in our bathroom!” you squeak out. “What do we do?”

The squirrel moves again, and Hyunjin reaches for a towel. You and Chan watch as he wraps the towel around the creature. He picks the squirrel up and runs outside to release it.

“So, it worked,” Chan repeats.

“It did work,” you echo.

“What did you say?”

“I told you many times! It’s something personal! It’s none of your concern.”

“It’s about Hyunjin, isn’t it?”

Caught off guard, you pause for a brief moment. “Pft, no, it’s not.”

“You’re doing the sleeve thing again.” When you don’t say a word, he continues with, “What was the spell?”

There’s no point in hiding it from your longtime friend. You check to make sure Hyunjin’s not back before answering in a whisper, “Wow, he’s hot.”

You expect him to laugh, to threaten to tell Hyunjin, but he just gives you a look of disgust.

“You saw a dead body and the first thing you thought was that he’s hot?“

“I’m not proud of it either! Please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t. Because you will.”

You stammer some incoherent sentences before getting out, “No!”

“What’s the problem? Aren’t you two gonna start going out?”

“How do you know about that?”

“He called me during my shift and rambled on and on about it. He’s so excited. It’s a little concerning that he’s so happy to date you. I should teach him to have better taste.”

“Rude. But that’s not the point! It’s such an embarrassing thing to say!”

The front door opens, and Hyunjin walks back into the bathroom with the towel and a few scratches on his arm. You jump, and Chan gives you a look.

“Hey, I’m back,” he announces. “That squirrel seemed pretty mad that he was alive again.”

Conversation with Chan forgotten, you reach for the first-aid kit under the sink and hurry to help Hyunjin. While you’re busy disinfecting the wounds, Chan keeps trying to send you signals.

“Chan,” you ask to interrupt his eyebrow raising and nodding, “can you put the towel in the hamper?”

“Yeah.” He takes the towel from Hyunjin and suddenly pauses. “Oh, Hyunjin. Y/N said she wanted to tell you something.”

“I wanted to let you know that I think we should get ice-cream for our first date.” It’s a good thing your hands are busy, otherwise you would be hiding them with your sleeves again.

“No. The other thing.”

“Oh, right.” He is going to get it now. “Chan said he would personally fund our date, so I think we should try that gourmet ice-cream parlor.”

Chan chokes and starts coughing. The two of you stopped by in the beginning of the year to check it out, and the two of you immediately left after seeing the absurdly high prices.

“That’s really nice of you, but I’ll treat Y/N with my own money. I’ll pay you back the $50, too,” Hyunjin adds.

Chan smirks at you and thanks Hyunjin for being such a gentleman and treating you so well.

You finish patching up Hyunjin, and he thanks you in appreciation. When he goes to lie down on the couch, Chan pulls you aside.

“Just tell him!”

“Only if you fund the date!” You know he’ll never agree.

“I don’t have that kind of money!”

“And I don’t have that kind of courage!”

You head back into your room and bury yourself in your blankets. Without meaning to, scenarios of you admitting to Hyunjin the words run through your mind. All of them end with Hyunjin mercilessly teasing you, and for some strange reason, Chan is there as well, laughing.

You groan and put your headphones on.

The first official date with Hyunjin happens after Hyunjin receives his first paycheck. As promised, he pays back Chan, who is still won’t stop pestering you.

He laces his fingers with yours as the two of you walk down the street to the less expensive ice-cream parlor. You’re shocked at his boldness but don’t let go. It’s only when he wraps his arms around your shoulders at a stoplight do flinch and look at him uncertainly.

He apologizes with one of his warm smiles and holds your hand again.

He buys you an ice-cream cone, and no matter how much you insist on paying for it, he ignores you and drops his money on the counter.

“I’ll pay you back,” you promise.

“Y/N, you’re my girlfriend now. I’ll buy you anything you want.”

“How about a house?”

“Only if we can live together.”

As the two of you, still holding hands and eating ice-cream, stroll through a park, he points out a dead bird.

“Look! You can bring it back to life!”

After all the squirrel commotion, no one ever really brought up the necromancy thing again. Well, Chan kept bothering you to tell Hyunjin the spell words, but that didn’t really count. Hyunjin, on the other hand, just seemed glad that his hypothesis was right and that he could spend time with you. And you just pushed the newfound part of yourself away and kept quiet during anatomy classes.

“I’m not doing that again.” You try to drag him away from the tiny corpse, but he’s rooted to the ground. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t want to help it?”

“It’s dead already. I just want to forget my powers and let nature take its course. Besides, you said the squirrel was angry when I brought it back.” You try moving him again. “Let’s go get coffee.”

He gives in and lets you lead the way to Yellow Wood. “You know, you never told me what you first said to me.”

“It’s personal.”

“Fine. You don’t have to tell me the exact words. What was it about?”

“I’m not telling you,” you say with the most childlike voice you can muster.

“Y/N.”

“If I let you hug me, will drop the subject?”

He pouts, “Don’t think you’re getting out of this,” but he’s more than excited to hug you and bury his nose in your hair. Your face heats up, and he grins at your bright red cheeks. He’s happy which makes you happy, and you don’t even have to tell him the words yet.

And you never will. Or so you think.

You cried when he proposed, and you cry now when he reads his vows. At some point, you can no longer hear him speak because he’s sobbing as well.

It takes several breaks and some throat-clearing before he can end his speech with, “And I know people usually promise ‘until death do us part,’ but I know I’ll love and be with you to death and beyond. Literally.”

You laugh at the inside joke and reach forward to brush his tears away.

“Hyunjin,” you choke out, “I love you so much.”

Chan, who is both the best man and the maid of honor, is the first to start cheering at your statement, but the rest of the guests soon join in.

“So, will you tell me now?” he jokingly whispers into your ear.

With the loud noise from the guests and the euphoria you feel, you murmur, “Wow, he’s hot.”

For some strange reason, he’s surprised. “You think I’m hot?”

“Of course I do.”

His eyes are bright as he gently lifts your chin up. “I love you, too,” he replies back right before he kisses you.

~ ad.gray

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #skz #stray kids #bang chan #chan #necromancer #college au #20190910

189 notes · View notes

faemytho · 5 years

Text

ds // onebizarrekai

so uh. tobin has some really nice headcanons.

tags: transphobia, homophobia, implied sexual assault, implied murder, coming out story, internal misgendering, unintentional misgendering

this is also very unedited bc im Tired, gay, and pls look at these trans boys i love them

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

The seed of a thought first planted itself when Dream had talked about her to the villagers. He'd been gesturing gently, spine ramrod straight and poised into the perfect picture of composure. A particularly nasty one yelled loud enough for Nightmare to hear.

"She's a witch, and she protects nothing but trouble!"

Nightmare had hidden under the covers the whole day after that, squishing her chest uncomfortably against the mattress and feeling sick to her stomach.

Dream didn't bother her.

----

She cursed, stumbling over the uneven pavement, her cape flying out behind her. Stupid fucking guards. Stupid fucking justice initiative. Where was her justice, huh?

"Did you think of that, Dream?" She muttered, slipping around a corner and inside the building she'd just rounded. She didn't stay long, fleeing out the back. She hated her voice, though she couldn't quite pinpoint why. She didn't exactly have time to either. You didn't have time to sit and dawdle when your best fucking friend was trying to hunt you down with his freaky ass wings and new glowing eyes and spouting off the same nonsense she'd heard from the villagers her whole life. She figured it was something that would happen, Dream turning against her, but she never thought he would go this far, to this degree. And it hurt.

Holding her breath, she pressed herself against the wall, peeking around the corner. Clear.

She'd live another day.

----

"Oh, Margaret, did you hear what happened at the Stonewall Inn?"

"Of course I did, everyone's heard of it by now."

Nightmare paused, listening in. She wasn't exactly sure why. But the two women sitting at the outside café said nothing else about it, and eventually went on their ways. Nightmare watched one of them reach out to squeeze the other's hand, gently, before they left. Lesbians, then. Not that Nightmare had a problem with them, but it was dangerous to be affectionate in public if you were queer.

She meant to forget about it, but Stonewall Inn nagged at her mind, and she went to go find it herself.

She learned a lot about herself that day.

----

Nightmare felt comfortable, for once. That was saying something. He hadn't felt very comfortable in his own body since that day in the village. At least the name 'Nightmare' wasn't gendered. He didn't want to change it.

He kept his hair long at first, only binding when he went out. He was proud of himself for even going this far in his presentation.

The first time it happened, the person was drunk and handsy, and Nightmare had frozen up, his skin crawling and no longer feeling like his own.

He cut his hair after that.

But it kept happening, more people, different places.

He didn't keep count.

----

How his skin prickled. Dream had caught him, but there were alarms going off, and for once it wasn't his fault. When all the guards left, he fled the cell, and ran right into a face he only just barely recognized.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from JR!" He snapped, grabbing them by the hand and dragging them with him.

He'd met Cross that day. Cross didn't ask him questions. Cross was useful.

Most importantly, Cross was a friend, and when Nightmare came out to him, he understood.

Most of it.

Error was the same way.

----

"Yo, Night, your binder's clean."

"Thank fucking god, you're a lifesaver Error, my lifeblood," Nightmare declared, his voice still light and floaty, and in his opinion, undermining his very important announcement.

Error muttered obscenely under his breath, tossing the fabric at him haphazardly from where he sat buried on the couch in blankets. Cross sat on the floor in front of him, mashing the buttons on his controller and hardly paying attention. Error sat down next to him, and Nightmare took the opportunity to shuck his top off and slip the binder over his head.

"You really shouldn't wear it at home," Error muttered, not looking at him while he pulled his top back on.

"Where the fuck else am I gonna wear it? Running for my life? Can barely breathe correctly after that, y'know," Nightmare snarked back, reaching out to gently flick the back of Error's head. His friend gave a little start, before turning his head back to face him.

"Well," Error started, unsure of himself now. He crossed his arms, huffing. "Still."

Nightmare snorted, burrowing back underneath the blankets. Life was good.

----

"You are going to come quietly, and you will not make a fuss."

Dream looked strangely cruel in that moment, and Nightmare hated it, his aura flaring lowly. The guards behind him held his wrists behind his back, and the guards beside him gripped his forearms tightly. He'd given up on struggling, figuring that it'd just be easier go and break out later. Error and Cross had gotten away, after all. They'd come back for him.

Dream turned away from him, calling back to the guards.

"Make sure she's properly restrained."

Nightmare felt as though he'd been dunked in ice cold water. He hadn't been called 'she' for a long time. It sunk down his chest like a stone, growing heavier and heavier, and he was suddenly very aware of his binder around his chest.

Ink, by Dream's side, watched him. Not that he noticed.

----

"I'm not sure why you thought changing your appearance so drastically would keep me from finding you."

Nightmare huffed, glaring at Dream from behind the bars on the door. He sat on the bed provided, his knees pulled up to his chest. He'd never hated his body so much before.

"I'm not sure why how I choose to appear is any of your freaking business, Your Highness," he snarked, and Dream's stoic expression twitched momentarily into irritation.

"It hardly matters much now, Nightmare. You've always been this way," Dream sighed, turning away from the cell.

Nightmare put his head down, tears burning in the corners of his eyes.

"Guard her cell."

Dream's footsteps faded, and he was left alone with his thoughts, hoping Error and Cross would come soon.

They did.

They always did.

----

"You're trans, right?"

Nightmare stopped in his tracks. He knew it was dangerous to keep his back turned to Justice Reigns's top mercenary, but he was too shocked to do anything but freeze up.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he whacked it off, turning to look up into Ink's eyes.

"Why do you want to know?" He snapped, his voice that light and reedy tone he hated. Feminine. Not what he was.

"Figured it was worth asking." Ink shrugged, sliding his paint brush into the holder across his back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and Nightmare took a step back, tensing up. He didn't like how relaxed Ink was, half expecting an ambush from Justice Reigns guards.

"... Yes, I am. What's it to you?" He snapped, and he cringed silently, hating how high his voice was.

"Same hat. What pronouns?"

Nightmare stopped, blinking stupidly. "He, him. Why."

Ink shrugged again, a ghost of a smile twitching against his mouth. "You on hormones?"

"Uh, no? Nowhere to get them. Nowhere safe, at least." He gripped his staff tighter, knuckles turning white.

"I can fix that."

"You're not safe."

"You think Justice Reigns isn't safe?" Ink paused. "Don't answer that. My point is, I can get you hormones. I already get my own testosterone, nobody'll suspect if I'm the one to smuggle you some."

Nightmare breathed out slowly, hating the feeling of hope bubbling in his chest.

"I literally meant you, shitwit. Why would you help me anyways?"

"Not being able to pass isn't fun. It's free at Justice Reigns, you know. Binders, hormones, surgeries. All that shit. Not very 'just' to exclude you."

It didn't make sense to him, why Ink wanted to help. Maybe somewhere in there, Ink had made some alternate connection that Nightmare couldn't understand, because Ink had actually shown up the next week, handed him the case he said he would, and left. No ambush, no Justice Reigns guards, no Dream.

Life was great.

----

Life was, decidedly, not so great.

Dream stared down at him, eyes wide.

Calloused hands cupped his face, and Nightmare couldn't breathe, couldn't move as Dream's eyes flickered over his features, confused and uncertain. It was almost unbearable, seeing Dream without the spark of recognition in his eyes for him.

Nightmare coughed, and the sound came out deeper than it ever had before. His voice had changed, finally, thanks to the testosterone shots Ink was supplying him with. He didn't actually care who they were from, as long as he had them in the first place. Ink had been trustworthy in one regard.

"... Nightmare?" Dream started, and Nightmare took a step back, away from Dream's hands, reaching up to rub nervously at the stubble that had started to grow. Dream's gaze hardened.

"Nightmare-"

He fled.

Dream didn't chase him.

----

"Why wouldn't she tell me?"

"He."

"Why wouldn't he tell me?"

Ink shrugged, flopping on one of the couches in Dream's office and pulling out his phone.

"I mean, not like he could just waltz up to you and say 'hey Dream, guess what I'm trans', you know?"

Dream let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"And just how long have you been meeting up with her- him, to supply her- him, with these hormones?"

Ink snorted, looking vaguely amused at Dream's furious attempts to correct himself.

"A while now. I mean, dude's on the run, where else is he gonna get hormones he knows are safe?"

Dream sighed and dropped his head in his hands, slumping in his chair.

"I need to go through all his paperwork," he muttered, sounding vaguely horrified. Ink snickered, looking up from his phone.

"See? You're getting it."

----

"Stop him!"

Nightmare skidded around the corner, laughing gleefully and dodging a swipe from Ink's brush. Black paint splattered the wall beside him, and he hooked his staff into the building ahead of him and vaulted on top of it.

"Do not let him and his accomplices get away, Nightmare must be detained now."

From the rooftops, he could see Dream, giving orders in a voice that easily carried over the buildings. Dream caught his eye, and he grinned. He hadn't ever felt so euphoric before.

Dream raised a brow at his smile, a smile of his own rising from sheer disbelief. It made Nightmare cackle and continue running.

Error was just below, and Cross was fighting off the guards nearby.

"Nightmare man, c'mon!" Error shouted, ripping open a portal. Cackling still, Nightmare tumbled down from the roof, kicking against the wall and rolling to the ground. He knocked the last two guards over the heads and rushed for the portal.

"Nightmare, stop!"

"Shit," Cross swore, raising his knife and backing up slowly. Nightmare turned, and Dream stood there in the mouth of the alley.

"You can all come quietly, or we can take you back by force."

Nightmare snorted, unable to keep the smile off his face.

"Sorry, got plans and my boyfriends said I can't. Maybe you can take me out another time, though. Dinner and a movie?"

Error snorted and Cross burst out laughing, and Dream, to their surprise, huffed and sheathed his sword.

"Insufferable. Very well then," Dream spoke, his face carefully blank. "Though I am choosing the movie."

Nightmare sputtered, and Cross immediately hooked his arms underneath Nightmare's, proceeding to haul him back through the portal.

Dream let them go.

#ds

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

FIC: Outside Influences ch.2

Summary: The morning after, Edge is still looking for answers and Rus is looking for...something else.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Off-Screen Attempted Sexual Assault, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Aftermath of Violence, Pre-Spicyhoney, Blood and Injury, Injury Recovery, Aftermath of Attempted Sexual Assault

Notes: A lot of people were hopeful to see a continuation of this one and I am weak, weak weak.

Please read the warnings on this one!!

Chapter One

~~*~~

Read Chapter Two on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Rus slept most of the night, but his rest was not a peaceful one. If it weren’t for Red’s ‘tea’, he likely would have woken several times. As it was, Edge could only watch over him, murmuring soothing words whenever he twitched or whimpered.

The artificial daylight was streaming through the barred windows by the time Rus actually woke. He blinked heavily, pale eye lights going from an unfocused blur to narrow pinpricks as he looked around wildly. Not even awake enough yet to realize why he was afraid, but he was nonetheless.

“You’re safe,” Edge said, softly. Rus jerked, that searching gaze falling on him and finally there was recognition.

“oh,” Rus said hoarsely. The quilt slipped down as he shifted to scrub his hands over his weary face. It exposed his dirty sweatshirt, dried marrow already flaking from the bright fabric.

He kept a hand over his eyes, his shoulders quivering and for a moment, Edge thought he was crying. But the sound that escaped him was closer to a laugh, disjointed as it was. “okay, so, i have no fucking idea what to say to you. thanks, i guess? is thank you what you say right now?”

“If you want.”

Rus let his hands drop, raising his head to look directly at Edge. He frowned, his gaze searching, ”you look kinda shitty, did you sleep at all?”

“Of course not.” Edge tried not to sound insulted; Underswap was different, in ways Edge was still learning, and Rus might understand promises but honor fell along different lines. “I told you I’d keep you safe.”

“so what, you stayed up to guard me?” It wasn’t disbelief, but Edge didn’t know how to gauge that tone of voice.

It was the truth. He had stayed up, spent the night watching over him. Trying to protect him from the world outside and also the one haunting his dreams, as much as he could. But that didn’t seem to be what Rus wanted to hear.

Perhaps a different tact would be best.

“Are you hungry?” It was a rhetorical question; after draining his magic last night, Rus would be starving, his soul crying out for replenishment.

So it was something of a surprise for Rus to shake his head. “no. no, you guys have a hard enough time with supplies without having to scrounge something for me.”

And there it was; something that could have been an insult if Edge chose to take it as one. Dismissing his ability to provide was enough to justify drawing blood in his world.

Instead, Edge took a ginger puppy cake out of his inventory and silently offered it over. It was unquestionably from Underswap, pressed onto him by Blue the last time he was there. Edge had taken it from Blue without hesitation and he wondered absently at his own capriciousness, that he’d allow one brother to scold him into taking treats and take insult at a word from the other.

Rus only paused a moment before he took it, devouring it in quick, awkward bites. It would only be a small help, better than nothing. A drink would be appropriate to offer, plain tea this time without his brother’s additions, and it wouldn’t give Edge answers but it would help Rus, that and plenty of sweet honey.

Before he could offer, Rus sat up straight with a different panic, one not borne of fear.

“shit, what time is it?” He started patting at his pockets, increasingly frantic, pausing only when Edge held up his phone.

“Your brother tried to call you,” Edge said and when that bright panic flared again, he added hastily, “I sent a text from your phone saying you’ll be home later. I thought perhaps you didn’t want him coming here.”

Rus nodded and took his phone, sighing wearily. “yeah, that would…that would be bad.”

To Edge’s growing frustration, he didn’t expand on that and the urge to press was strong, to demand answers. As he was now, still panicky and senses clouded, Rus might well break down and explain….or he might lock down tighter and never say another word on it. Either way, whatever fragile trust was between them would very likely be broken. It was only luck that his brother’s ‘tea’ hadn’t done it already. It couldn’t be risked.

But a pang of his own dread rose when Rus started trying to climb to his feet, fumbling to pull the tangle of the quilt away. “thanks for helping and all but i should get home.”

“You don’t have to leave if you’d rather not.”

Rus paused, blinking at him. His sockets were rounded, owlishly confused, “what?”

“You don’t have to leave,” Edge repeated. “so long as you let your brother know you’re safe, you don’t have to go. Stay, get cleaned up, let your magic recover more. Can you even shortcut right now?”

That was an obvious sore point, one that Edge hadn’t a qualm about pressing, and the way Rus looked away gave the answer. The few times Red had drained enough magic to keep him from teleporting were memorable, his viciously angry frustration at any vulnerability. Edge could only imagine how Rus felt in the same position after what happened.

He couldn’t heal, he couldn’t teleport, his HP provided no protection and Blue was not only ignorant of the problem, he was no fighter. Every instinct within Edge screamed for Rus to stay here and if it took pressing on a few internal bruises to keep him, Edge would do what was necessary.

But the first one he’d prodded seemed to be enough. Rus kept his gaze aimed at the floor, blinking too much as he whispered, “why are you helping me?”

There was no answer Edge could give that Rus would want to hear, and so he countered, “Why do you think I wouldn’t?”

But Rus only shook his head. He didn’t seem angry, only confused and lost. “doubt you want me here sleeping on your,” his eye lights flicked to the sofa then slid away. “taking up space.”

“You can go upstairs and sleep in my bed.”

To his surprise, Rus froze at that, the joints in his hands creaking as they gripped each other. He swallowed nervously. “you want me to—i mean—“

It was so nonsensical to Edge that for a moment, he couldn’t understand. When the answer clicked, he was forced to turn away lest Rus think the anger was for him. It was, a little. He couldn’t possibly think that Edge would…he swallowed back a hot denial, forced as much gentleness as he could to say, “Just to sleep. I’ll stay down here and you can nap. If you want. It’s your choice.”

A choice Edge would try very hard to respect and if that meant he ended up spending a few hours lingering outside the Swap home to keep watch, then sentry duty it was.

Some of that blind fear faded and Rus nodded jerkily. “okay. okay, yeah, i can…i can do that. that would be…good. yeah.”

It was difficult to watch Rus struggle to his feet, making his way unsteadily to the stairs. He hesitated at the foot and Edge wondered if he would ask for help going up.

“maybe come up stairs for a few minutes?” Rus muttered. “i just—“

He trailed away and the shame that crossed his face made anger stir again, at whoever did this, for breaking that easy confidence Edge had seen in Rus from the beginning. They’d beaten more than his body; they’d left bruises on his soul, and there was no ready way to heal those.

Or perhaps not so terribly bruised. It was an easy guess that Rus wanted him close, to watch over him until he fell asleep. Edge could only wondered at the courage it must have taken for him to ask. “Of course.”

He followed Rus up, keeping a careful two steps down while Rus struggled his way up. They were at the landing, Rus leaning panting against the railing, when a thought occurred, “Did you want to shower first?”

Rus plucked at the front of his sweatshirt distastefully and grimaced. “yeah, you probably don’t want me in your sheets like this.”

Not at all the point, but Edge directed him down the hallway. “I’ll bring you something to wear. I can wash your clothes while you’re resting.”

Rus didn’t move. He stood there in his stained clothes that hid stars-knew what injuries. The façade he was clinging to was crumbling, leaving behind emotions but no answers.

“why are you helping me?” Rus asked again, with shaky determination. “what do you want.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“yeah. look, i just like to know the cost in advance, okay? make sure it’s not more than i can afford.”

Another conundrum, Rus’s distrust coupled with the memory of Blue’s constant generosity.

“Papyrus,” Edge said, deliberately. His name, their name, a reminder of the somewhat shared life between them. “I don’t want anything.”

That doubt didn’t disappear, but Rus seemed to accept it, for now. He shuffled to the bathroom and Edge went to his bedroom for clothes.

Folded neatly in a drawer he found a soft pair of flannel pajamas, a Gyftmas present from one of the other ‘verses. He took a moment to fold back the blanket invitingly on the rigidly made bed. Sleep that wasn’t drug-induced would do wonders for both healing and replacing Rus’s magic.

The water was running as Edge went to the bathroom door. He knocked anyway and called, “I’m setting the clothes inside.”

No response.

Cautiously, Edge opened the door. Through the thin curtain he could see the shadow of Rus sitting in the tub, water pouring down on him. The sound of falling water drowned out sound, but it couldn’t disguise the way his shoulders were shaking, the way he was curled into himself, arms wrapped behind his skull as he rocked back and forth.

Behind that curtain he was bare in more ways than one, and with one flick Edge would be able to see what Rus was hiding. He’d be able to see everything.

Edge tightened his jaw and silently set the pajamas on the floor, closing the door behind him.

“boss?”

Too quickly to be seen, Red dodged the wave of bones Edge hurled at the sound of his voice. The second wave was aborted, dissolving to dust and only then did Red step back out. He raised a brow bone at the uneven scatter embedded into the wall behind him.

“easy, bro,” Red said, mildly disapproving. He poked one of the jagged bones with an idle finger, wincing at the burn of the intent. He stuck the injured digit into his mouth and mumbled around it, “tense much?”

“What did you find out?” Edge demanded. If Rus couldn’t give him answers, he expected better from Red.

But his brother looked grim. “got a little info, but it ain’t nothing you’re gonna like. russy has himself a bit of a reputation, kinda a ‘for a good time call’ sorta guy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Edge said impatiently. Certainly nothing that would excuse that beating and whatever else Rus was hiding from them.

Red raised both hands defensively. “didn’t say there was, boss. anyway, that was easy gossip, but the timing wasn’t so good to get much on anything else last night. i’m gonna hit it tonight, see what else i can scrounge.” He ignored the rude sound Edge made and went on,“they didn’t jump him outside, i don’t think, not enough of a mess anywhere in town. he came out in a shortcut, i found that spot. must’ve gone through blind, he was pretty damn far from his house. looks like he healed up right there before he started for home.

Red licked his teeth, considering, uncaring as the sharp edges nicked his tongue. Casually, he added, “if it was me, the only way i’d heal up before shortcutting someplace safe was if i was in a bad way.”

“I know,” Edge said, low. The door opened behind him and Edge turned towards it, disgruntled that he hadn’t noticed the water turning off.

Rus looked out through the cracked open door, his dirty clothes in his arms. The pajamas only increased that aura of vulnerability, too big and too small at the same time.

He was slimmer than Edge, but taller, and there was a couple inches too much ankle showing. But they were still too wide for his frame and the pajamas hung down enough to expose his collarbone. From the way Rus tugged at the neckline, it wasn’t something he appreciated.

“heya, honey bun,” Red said easily, and if there was a certain gentleness to it, only Edge would have noticed. Nothing else, no comment that Rus was looking better or asking him what the fuck happened. Red batted the ball of conversation firmly into Rus’s court, for better or worse.

Rus stepped out further out into the hall, “i wasn’t sure what to do with…” he trailed off, holding up his dirty clothes.

“give ‘em here, i can toss ‘em in the wash.” Red held out his hands and those words might well have caused the first skeleton aneurysm ever if Edge didn’t know full well that his brother intended to inspect them thoroughly first.

Rus reached out and dropped them into Red’s arms. The action drew up his already too-short sleeve even further and the discoloration on the exposed bone drew Edge’s gaze, a darkened bruise circling his forearm.

The growl that rose in his throat was difficult to choke back, feebly disguised as a cough. Rus awkwardly tugged the sleeve back down, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Let’s get you into bed,” Edge said gruffly. Rus nodded and went into the darkened bedroom without another word.

The sheets were a little threadbare but they were clean. Rus eased onto the mattress, sighing gratefully. In short order the blankets were pulled loose from the corners, wrapping him thoroughly and Edge didn’t feel so much as a prick of irritation at the mess.

Not even when Rus whispered, “you don’t have to stay.”

“Do you want me to?” Edge settled to sit on the floor by the bed. The room was utilitarian. In one corner was a single bookshelf crammed with water-wrinkled books that had been read dozens of times, and couple that were set reverently on their own shelf, borrowed ones to be returned. Daylight crept in through the single, barred window past the thin curtain, falling across the darkened screen of the jerry-rigged computer

A bare whisper from behind him. “yes.”

“Then I’m staying.”

The only sound Rus made was a watery little sigh. The bed creaked, the blankets rustled, and then only soft, even breathing.

Edge’s sockets felt too dry, weariness nagging. He ignored it; he’d gone far longer without sleep and for much worse reasons.

He did take out his phone, texting his brother to go to the sentry checkpoints before he took a nap to check the traps. A confirmation came quickly, along with a pun that Edge ignored.

He sat in the semi-dark room and when the first whimper came, he was there to murmur, “You’re safe, Rus. I’m here, you’re safe.”

It was probably his imagination that Rus settled quicker at those words than he had the night before. Or perhaps without the drug to cloud his senses, he was better able to hear.

Either way, Rus did settle again, breathing soft and easy. Edge turned enough to look at him, asleep in his bed, wrapped tightly in a swathe of blankets. Sleeping willingly, allowing this vulnerability when he was already in a fragile state.

Trusting him.

Edge swallowed against a sudden thickening in his throat and turned back towards the door to keep watch.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #please read the warnings

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stuffandnosense · 5 years

Text

Never Ending: Message in a Bottle (Part 4)

So everyone over @altean-plance-au is still doing their thing, and the recent updates have been fantastic (a couple of which I still need to catch up on), and thanks to them and also my friends at the Pidgance Positivity Discord I finally managed to get back to this, and I’m really excited about my plans for it going forward. ;) I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Never Ending Oneshot | MiaB Part 1 | MiaB Part 2 | MiaB Part 3

***

“Almost every single one of these video files has a name - like a real name, not just a number or something. AND they’re color-coded into topics,” Lance observes, as they flip through the file folder on the screen in his room. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Because you know me,” Pidge smirks. “Just because the log was your idea doesn’t mean I’d have let you get away with doing it without some basic organization. What are we, animals?”

She’s expecting a laugh at that, but when she glances at him his face has fallen, and she realizes she made a mistake in her attempt to make a joke.

Too soon, she thinks. Too soon to be identifying with the people in these videos completely, even for a joke. Lance has come around enough since earlier to agree to watch these videos with her, but he is still confused. Still scared, even, maybe.

“S-Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean…”

Lance blinks and shakes his head. “No, I know; you were just being funny. It’s fine. Ignore me.”

Pidge lets her hand fall away from the screen “We don’t have to do this right now, you know. We could wait a little longer.”

He smiles. “It’s okay, Pidge, really.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable; are you sure—?”

“Pidge!” He grabs her hand and tugs her back to sit facing the huge screen they’d set up in here phoebs ago for the game console they bought at the space mall. “I mean it, come on,” he chuckles. He points the Altean remote-like thing at the display. “I guess we should just start at the beginning? What ARE these categories anyway?”

“One looks like messages to specific people; those we’ll skip. Otherwise, looks like…” Pidge squints at the screen. “General Logs, Altean History & Culture, Nonsense Logs - of course - and oh, neat, what’s Project Window? There’s also a Miscellaneous tag, because you have to have one of those.”

“You’re enjoying this too much already and we haven’t even started.”

She smirks at him, and then he comes to the end of the long list. The last several files aren’t named, or color-coded, and she frowns.

“What is it?” Lance asks.

“Nothing…” She tells herself it doesn’t have to mean anything, and steals the remote from Lance. “Come on, let’s pick up where we left off in the first general log I guess.”

“Hey give it back!”

***

Nonsense Log 2: Or, I knew this would probably devolve into Feed Funniest, and I was right.

“What are you doing?” Pidge turns on the recorder as Lance floats past her upside down - not that direction really matters in here. He’s trying to use bits of unfrozen water to propel himself across the space, but the stream keeps coagulating into clumps.

“Practicing. I’ve never used my powers in zero gravity before; it’s harder to keep it liquid when it otherwise wants to freeze, and it keeps, you know, acting like things in zero gravity do…”

He freezes a large ball of the water to grab onto to stop himself spinning, but with no anchor he just goes spinning away with the ice ball in his grasp.

Pidge giggles at his shriek. “You need to stay tied to the side!”

“That’s not going to help me figure out how to operate somewhere with zero-g that doesn’t have walls…!” Lance and his ball of ice bounce off the inside of the sphere; he unfreezes the water and pushes off from the wall with it to send himself back to her.

Pidge catches his arms as he gets closer; he’s still somewhat out of control, but at least he ended up relatively where he seems to have wanted to go.

“Well that was better,” she gives him, pulling him into the nest with her.

“Of course it was.” He winks and kisses her cheek.

“Since when did you like training?”

Lance feigns offense. “Excuse me; I’ve matured enough to recognize its’ merits, thank you very much. I wouldn’t be the skilled bodyguard or the master of my abilities I am without it.”

Pidge grins wickedly at that, and extends a pair of vines to shove him back out of the nest. “Oh? Show me what you’ve got, then.”

A glob of water hits her in the face as she emerges from the nest; Lance’s laugh echoes off the frozen walls of their life boat.

“You’re on.”

***

On venturing out for food they ask Allura what Feed Funniest would have meant, after seeing it in one of the log titles.

“Oh, the Feed was merely a...network of messaging and content channels, really. Those used by everyone. There were many, but that was the collective name for it. Feed Funniest was a channel used to compile humorous entries.”

Lance blinks at her. “It was social media.”

Pidge shrugs as she pulls a spoon from a drawer. “I mean, people are people everywhere, and Altea was a technologically advanced society. That makes sense; why wouldn’t they have had a way for people to collectively communicate?”

“Altea had social media!”

Allura seems confused. “Social media?”

Pidge smirks as she nudges a shell-shocked Lance out the kitchen door. “Don’t worry about it; he’ll adjust.”

“Pidge, Altea had social media!”

“I heard her, Lance.”

***

Project Window Entry 1: Or, I really hope this doesn’t get us killed.

“So we’ve decided that we can’t just sit here,” Pidge says. Her fingers fly over the projected keypad from the computer as it records them. A vine curls out from the wall of the sphere, wrapped around her waist to hold her in place as she runs her calculations.

“This one computer we have does have limited comm and scanning abilities, but the scanners won’t reach outside the sphere, and the comms barely will. We might be able to detect signals from ships close enough, but we definitely wouldn’t be able to tell what kinds of ships they were. If we want to have a chance of detecting and reaching out to a friendly ship and being rescued rather than captured or killed...we need a way to know for sure.”

Lance is floating over her shoulder, examining a section of the wall.

“Lance?”

“What?” He glances down at her and the computer. “Oh, right. What should I…?”

“Just tell the log what you told me.” Pidge grins, teasing but anxious. “You’re the one who wanted to record things.”

“Right…” He sighs. “We need to open a section of this wall so we can see out, but seeing as we’re floating in space we can’t just...do that. But there are several layers of plants, and I think if we replace them one by one with ice in this one spot, we can get all the way through. And even though it’ll be several layers, and they’ll need to be thick, I think with my powers I can make them clear enough for us to still be able to see enough for it to make a difference.”

Pidge is nodding. “It’ll end up acting like a magnifying glass, but at least we’ll be able to tell the difference between a Galra ship and one that might actually want to rescue us. And the magnification might actually help in some cases, too.”

“We have to be sure everything stays sealed while we do this, though. Quiznak, why did I even have this thought…?”

“It was a good thought! We can do it. I can make sure we don’t decompress; the plants will warn me if we’re in danger. We just have to treat it like an airlock.” The computer pulls away from her as she asks a vine to reach out and take it while they work.

Pidge offers Lance a reassuring smile. “Detail work is what you do.”

“Usually the life or death involved isn’t quite so direct…”

She tugs him to her and kisses him. “How’s that for motivation?”

Lance smiles back softly as he holds her against him for a moment. “I guess I did tell you we weren’t done, didn’t I?”

“We’re not,” she whispers into his cheek. Around them the glowing plants that light their lifeboat shine off the ice that seals it; the beauty still surprises her every morning she wakes. “If we made this place, we can do anything. We’re not dying in here.”

Log 5: I was going to delete, but Lance said not to; people need to understand what Zarkon did.

Pidge affixes the wrist computer to some vines beside the fruit basket woven into the sphere’s side, making it easier to begin recording as she pokes Lance’s resting form under the moss blankets in their nest bed.

“Lance? You awake?” Nothing, at first, but his breathing isn’t even in sleep. “Lance?”

“...I’m awake.”

“We need to work on this window; if we take too long, our allies could give up looking for survivors. If they’re even doing that, but anyway.”

His shoulders tense, and he still doesn’t turn over to face her. “Not right now, Pidge...”

“Are you okay? I’m still a little tired, too. Maybe you’re right; we could just record today. Maybe go over whatever we can remember from our history classes or something...whatever we can do, you know? You weren’t wrong; I guess it is a good idea to get down as much as we can about Altea somehow…”

Lance shifts under his blankets and pulls them up around his ears. “Not right now,” he repeats hollowly. Drops of liquid float over his shoulder, glinting in the glow of the bioluminescent plants, and Pidge’s chest clenches.

“Lance…” She gets a quiet sob in answer, and her own throat clogs. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

Having only just woken up herself, she doesn’t know how long he’s been awake. She does know there have been moments she’s woken up in the night, too, paralyzed. Moments when all she could do was miss her family. And Lance was there.

She leans over him and wraps her arms around him, slipping back under the moss to pull him close and let his tears soak her shoulder rather than floating away. Lance clings to her like a lifeline. They are each others’ lifelines. They are all they have left.

“It’s okay...we don’t have to do anything today,” she whispers. With a flick of her wrist, she turns the computer off with the tip of a vine.

***

Lance pauses the computer’s playback before the next log can start. His arms are wrapped tightly around his chest in the dim castle bedroom.

“Lance…?”

He swallows. “I...I still don’t know if there’s a whole other family I should be mourning, or…”

Pidge loops an arm around his shoulders and rests her head against his arm, because she isn’t sure what else she can do. He lets her, for a moment or two, but in the end he extracts himself gently from her grip and gets shakily to his feet.

“You want to take a break?” she asks.

“Yeah…”

The break lasts longer than either of them planned; Voltron is dispatched on a rescue mission almost immediately after returning to Galra headquarters.

***

“Lance…? Lance, are you okay?”

The cool castle wall presses into his forehead where he’s leaned into it. They must have returned from the shield station half a varga ago or more, but he hasn’t even made it out of Red’s hangar.

Hunk is hovering over him and Pidge is kneeling beside him, clutching at his arms and looking up at him with so much concern and…

When did he end up on his knees?

“I...I don’t...know…”

Lance…! LANCE! Pidge is screaming in his memory, but it isn’t HIS memory.

Hunk gets down on his knees with them, a hand rubbing at Lance’s back. He can’t feel it much through his armor, but the weight is welcome.

“What...what happened out there?” he asks. “I know I didn’t have time to ask before; everything was kind of going nuts. I’m sorry, man…”

“I-it’s okay, I know, I…” He shakes his head, trying to clear the buzzing from it. He was fine, he was fine, but then it hit him all over again.

“I know you saved Allura,” Hunk says, somewhat in awe. “That was...that was…”

“Stupid,” Pidge swallows.

“I was gonna say BRAVE…”

Lance snorts quietly. “Pidge is probably more right, but i-if I hadn’t…”

Allura would be dead. With no one to bring her back.

Like he’d been dead.

He’d been dead.

He died.

There are arms around him now. Hunk and Pidge pressing into him from both sides, wrapped around him. He’s shaking and he doesn’t know when that started.

“Lance? Buddy!”

“Lance!”

“I died,” he gasps. “I...just for a minute. Allura brought m-me back. Re...st-started my heart and healed me, I guess, I...I mean I guess it’s not really that different than like a defibrillator or something bringing me back, it wasn’t that long b-b-but I still…”

Pidge’s breath puffs against his neck. “What!”

“Oh man…” Hunk trails.

Their arms tighten around him but Lance doesn’t mind. He needs the touch. He needs to feel like he’s still here when his mind won’t stop racing.

“It’s okay,” Pidge is saying. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” It sounds like she’s saying it as much for herself as for him.

“I know,” he breathes. “I know.”

Over and over he feels the charge hit him. It HURT...so much. And maybe it was while he was screaming and maybe it was...after...but…

She was reaching for him. The vision. The...memory. It was a memory. Pidge screaming his name. Reaching. Or clinging to him? So much like she is now but...not this Pidge. And she was...

“Older,” he says aloud.

“What?” Hunk asks.

Lance sits up straighter. “She was older.”

“Who was?” Pidge asks.

He gets to his feet, maybe too quickly, reaching out for the wall for balance as his head spins. “You. I think. When what happened out there happened, I...saw something. Like we did in your hanger. Sort of. When we touched that energy.”

Where is Allura?

“I think she and Coran are still with Shiro; they wanted to make sure he was okay after whatever happened to him out there,” Pidge says.

“I asked that out loud?”

“Yeah...” Hunk says warily.

“Sorry, I’m just...ugh.” Lance winces as he finds Pidge’s hand and squeezes it. “I need to see something. Come on. Hunk, can you uh...can you find Allura and Coran? Get them to meet us in my room? If they’re done checking up on Shiro I mean.”

“Sure?”

“Thanks, man.”

Pidge follows him as he tugs her from the hangar, but her fingers are rubbing his worryingly as she clutches his hand in return. “Lance, what’s going on?”

He still feels...unsteady. And not because Allura didn’t heal him well enough. Physically he’s fine; it’s only the mental and emotional toll of what happened that’s making him shaky, he’s almost sure. But even through the fading tremors he has a purpose as he pulls her through the corridors.

“You’ll see.” He turns on the large screen when they reach his room, and starts scrolling through the log files to get to the end.

Pidge reaches out to still his hands. “What are you doing? I thought we weren’t skipping.”

She says it as the door opens again, Allura, Coran, and Shiro on Hunk’s heels.

“What? What’s going on?” the princess asks, echoing Pidge from moments ago. “Lance? Are you all right?”

He looks back at her and smiles. “I think so. Now. I...look, Allura, I know you and Coran have been watching these logs too, and...I know you haven’t wanted to get to the end, and I know why. But...I don’t think we have to be afraid of it anymore.”

Allura swallows. “How do you know?”

Lance winces. “What happened out there...I saw something. It was a memory; I know it was. And...I mean it wasn’t exactly the greatest kind. I don’t know what happened to them later. But what I saw, Pidge was older. Maybe ten or twenty years older, Allura. I don’t think they died in that sphere.”

“How can you be sure?”

“The last couple of files are so aren’t named,” Pidge says, her voice cracking.

He knows they don’t want to question him just to question him. Allura and Pidge are both looking at him, and they’re just afraid, and he understands. What if something went wrong finishing the window? What if they finished it, but no one came? He’d been thinking the same things. But...

“I know what I saw. I know it was a memory.” He looks from Allura to Pidge. “Can you trust me?”

***

Log 6: Or, We may be crazy but that’s okay

Lance is already recording when Pidge wakes up. She squints up at the light from the wrist computer’s projected screen.

“Why are you recording me sleeping?” She seems to be trying to sound disgruntled, but she can’t hide her smile.

“Because you’re beautiful in the light in here.”

“It’s still weird,” she smirks.

Lance leans down to nuzzle her cheek. “Hush. I only just turned it on.”

She yawns, stretching, and settles her arms around his neck as he floats just above her in the lack of gravity. “All right...what are you up to?”

He flips through the files. “You didn’t tell me you had music on this thing.”

“Not much...just some instrumental stuff I use when I’m working sometimes.”

Lance pushes himself back, hanging the computer on a vine and pressing play on a file before he floats away from the nest. A soft ballad drifts through the chill air.

“Come on,” he says. He holds out a hand, smiling. “Dance with me.”

Pidge laughs. “In zero gravity?”

“Hey, I can’t trip on your feet.”

She huffs in amusement as she pushes back the moss blankets and drifts to the edge of the nest. Lance wiggles his fingers at her to beckon, and her expression softens as she reaches out to take his hand.

Lance pulls her close, sending them into a gentle spin in the center of the sphere as the music plays from the computer.

“Sorry I kind of put the kibosh on yesterday,” he says quietly.

Pidge shakes her head. “It won’t be the last time one of us needs to do that.” She rests her head against his chest. “We lost...our planet. Everyone…” Her voice catches.

Lance strokes her hair, his face settling into a determined stare at nothing in particular. “We are going to get out of here. We’re going to finish that window, and someone is going to find us.”

“You can’t know that,” she whispers. “But thank you for saying it anyway.”

“We will,” he says again. He nudges her chin until she looks at him. “Because I want to have a life with you. I know it can’t be the same as it would have been on Altea...but I want it.”

“Zarkon will be looking for us. For any Alteans left. Anyone who was off-planet.”

“So we find them before he does.”

“More than that,” she says suddenly. “If we get out of this, we have to fight back.”

Lance is quiet for a moment, but at the certainty in her eyes, he nods. All he wants is for her to live, for anyone left to be safe, but…

“If that’s what you want, I’ll be by your side.”

***

Lance pulls up the last log file, from what must have been weeks after the last one they watched, and Pidge’s face fills the screen. The Altean version of her face.

It’s still so strange to see it, even though they’ve been watching these logs for a couple of days now. It still sends a strange shock through her stomach, sometimes. But Lance slips an arm around her shoulders, and it grounds her.

This time only the soft glow from the screen illuminates Pidge’s doppelganger; behind her the sphere is nearly dark. The plants are dying.

She looks so tired, her breath visible in the air, but her eyes are alight.

“Trigel’s people have found us! Not a moment too soon...another few quintants and…” She shakes her head. “They’re going to fire an escape capsule into the side of the sphere to get us out safely. We’ve weakened the wall just enough; they should be able to lodge the hatch end inside without decompressing our atmosphere.”

Her excitement fades. “They’ve told us the Paladins are gone...all of them. Even without the lions they fought to save Altea, but...and-and no one knows where the castle is, or who was still on it when it left.”

The Pidge on the screen swallows. Over her shoulder Lance floats into view, and he looks just as weak and exhausted, but he’s smiling tiredly as he holds onto her.

“Allura, if you’re out there…” The Pidge on the screen smiles, too. “I hope we find each other, but if we don’t, if you find this at least…”

“We lived, Allura. And we did everything we could.”

#plance #altean plance au #altean lance #altean pidge #altean plance #voltron legendary defender

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dontreadthistrashgarbage · 5 years

Text

Pt.3

Seyoon was unpacking all the late night snacks he had gotten onto a blanket at a secluded rooftop. Hearing footsteps he looked up to see Guerin, who looked different than usual. She didn't appear to be wearing any makeup, had her normal stud earrings but had a cute black mask with a white sharp toothy grin. She was dressed in joggers and a sweatshirt with the hood up. He cocked his head at her as she approached.

"I know, I look like shit. But it was late and I'd already gotten ready for bed. You can't expect me to spruce up after that." Guerin guessed at his expression.

"You look fine. Cozy. It's just different. Also you're late." He shrugged and patted the blanket next to him, sitting as he leaned against the wall behind him.

"I got lost..." she grumbled, "I've never been great with directions." She sat down in the spot he indicated, looking over the spread he had brought, "Good grief I thought you just wanted tteokbokki."

Seyoon smiled automatically, "You said you hadn't eaten, and I know how much you like food so I thought I should get some options." Guerin leaned her head in his direction and offered a wry smile under her mask, unable to argue with his logic. "Besides, I got this for us too." He pulled out an additional bag, from which he drew two paper cups, a bottle of soju and two cans of beer.

Guerin raised her eyebrows and sat up straight, "Oh we're drinking too?"

"We have to. It goes well with tteokbokki, fried chicken and jajangmyeon." He shrugged nonchalantly as he began opening everything up and handing Guerin some chopsticks. "Although it's blueberry soju. I thought you might like that."

"How did you figure that?" She asked, sneaking a piece of tteokbokki and pulling her mask to her chin to eat it.

"Well you said before you liked Grapefruit and Plum but I couldnt find it, so I thought blueberry was the next best option." Seyoon shrugged, separating the cups and pouring soju into them, handing one to Guerin and offering his as cheers.

She laughed in response and took her shot, "Honestly I dont know how that train of thought lines up but you aren't wrong." She watched as Seyoon refilled the cups and couldn't keep the grin from her face, "You really went all out for this, it's awesome. Thank you."

He shrugged again, looking up at her and their eyes met briefly before both looked away to select food options, "Food makes things better." He said simply.

"Cheers to that." They both took another shot and then ate in silence for a while.

"So... how are you?" Seyoon asked awkwardly, unsure of how to broach the subject.

"I'm fine, all things considered." Guerin said almost mechanically, "I keep telling people that."

"Okay... but how are you really?" Seyoon asked again, leaning back to look at Guerin. She sighed and set her chopsticks down and didn't speak for a moment.

"Well. What do you know happened?" She asked finally.

"I know you were attacked by that crazy lady. I know you were arrested but you were cleared because of video evidence. I know that she is being charged by the company. But I also know you haven't been with HEET lately." He trailed off.

Guerin reached over for one of the beers. Seyoon cracked it open and put it in her hand, grabbing his as well while she took a sip, leaned back against the wall and looked up at the sky.

"Yeah. We were worried something might happen again. So part of our plan included recording any more altercations that might occur. Self defense laws are tricky and it's usually one person's word against another. Plus as a foreigner, and a big one, we knew some witnesses might not provide unbiased information." She paused and took another sip, "The boys were so brave, they did exactly as they were supposed to. That woman had some gross stuff in that present too. Police said it was unwashed underwear, a vial of blood, another of spit..." she scrunched her nose, "stuff like that."

"Sounds like you guys have the law on your side." Seyoon said, waiting for more information.

Another sip and pause before she spoke, "Yeah, we do. We're able to press charges. The company is suing her. She might see jail time. They even made me go to the hospital to make sure they had a medical report for the court."

"Wait medical report?" Seyoon looked over at her, surprised, "What happened?" Now that she had pulled down her mask and he was looking closely he saw the cut and slight bruising at the corner of her mouth as she smiled dryly and tapped her cheek.

"I let her hit me. I figured if she looked unharmed and I was injured it would go better for us too."

"You're crazy." He sounded almost admiring as he leaned in closer, "Let me see that, does it hurt?"

"It's fine, I've been hit in the face many times, and she's probably the smallest adult that's ever taken a swing at me. It doesnt hurt at all. OW WHY?" She flinched and cried out as he poked the bruising.

His eyes widened and he let out a snort of laughter, "Doesn't hurt at all?"

"You little shit." She laughed and smacked his hand away from her face, "Of course it'll hurt if you press a bruise."

He giggled again, "Sorry. It does look like it hurts a lot. You should maybe stop letting people hit you in the face."

She laughed, "Well it hasn't always been a choice, this one was though."

"So... there's more right?" He asked after their laughter had subsided.

Guerin avoided his eyes by taking a longer drink from her beer, "Yeah. There's been some blowback. Some false stories have gotten out and theres some people that claim I'm making a bad name for HEET or that I was the one who started it, that I instigated a fight or was being rude to a fan. There's quite a lot that demanded I be removed as manager, actually."

"So they caved?" Seyoon asked disbelievingly.

"Well. Kind of?" Guerin sighed, "I've been temporarily removed. Right now with the case going and the false information it's actually less safe for HEET to be around me in case someone tries to target me. So until things are officially able to be released..." she stopped talking abruptly blinking rapidly, trying to hide it with another long gulp of beer. "It's not like I've been fired. I'm grateful for that. Another company would probably have written me off as more trouble than I'm worth. They have me doing other work right now but... I liked my job. I loved my boys, and looking after them." She couldnt hide the tears running down her face now, and didn't bother to try.

Seyoon floundered, watching her face then looking around before seeing napkins and hurriedly handing them to her. She smiled and thanked him, dabbing her cheeks half heartedly before giving up and chugging the rest of her beer through her tears. With an unconvincing smile she looked at Seyoon, "So that's what I mean when I say all things considered. I'm fine."

He didn't saying anything right away, pulling his long shirt sleeve over his hand, he leaned over and dabbed at her face to dry it. She started to pull away, shocked, but he reached out with his other hand and held her in place. "Hold still." She didn't fight back, he was so close and so handsome she couldn't help but feel somewhat transfixed, despite her stomache dropping and heart pounding, all she could do was freeze until he let her go. He picked up his chopsticks, selected a large piece of fried chicken and put it to her mouth, which she accepted without complaint.

"It's okay to be sad when bad things happen. You don't have to lie to everyone." He paused and added quietly as though he wasn't sure he should be saying it, "You don't have to lie to me."

Guerin choked, "Oh my god." She swallowed as soon as she could and laughed, "Are you using lines on me to seem cool? Is this a drama?" She laughed again.

"Yah." He protested, "I was just trying to be supportive."

Guerin laughed again then fed him some tteokbokki, "You're as adorable as a cicada." She said and pinched his cheek.

"I am so much more handsome than some bug." He protested around the food in his mouth.

"Of course you are." She put a shot of soju in his hand, cheersed and downed hers. He followed shortly.

"Thanks though." She glanced at him, "It means a lot."

He playfully shoved her and stole her chopsticks, which started a whole new bickering fit.

Charlie had been working up the nerve all morning to talk to her boss. It was a privilege to be allowed to be so hands on with animals and she didn't want her boss to think she was taking advantage... but it was such a cool opportunity. She had to at least try.

"Byun Minsoo-ssi." She lead off tentatively. The lead vet looked up from her paperwork. Perhaps she looked stern simply from Charlie's point of view but it was just as believable that she was no-nonsense in everyday life as well.

"Yes? Charlie-ssi?"

"I have a friend who is a manager for an idol group, she is friends with a group called A.C.E and I wondered if they could come behind the scenes to meet some of our animals?" Charlie ventured cautiously.

Minsoo paused for a moment before speaking "A.C.E? Your friend knows A.C.E? And they want to come here?" Her attempt to play it cool was poorly hidden and gave Charlie confidence.

"Yes! I'd like to invite my friend Guerin and A.C.E to come and see what we have. I think it would be an excellent opportunity to promote the zoo and educate on the importance of conservation!"

The normally serious Minsoo beamed at Charlie, "That's an excellent idea. Let's get in contact and organize something."

Charlie did a mental fist pump and hustled off to message her friends.

Deciding to keep the visit informal allowed the planning process to go more quickly. Approval from the higher ups and organizing with Beat Interactive took a few days. Guerin has been allowed to come as a personal guest for Charlie and A.C.E who requested she tag along. Guerin, never passing up a chance to visit the zoo, happily accepted. Charlie hoped it could provide her friend with a genuine mood boost. Guerin tended to internalize her negative emotions but Charlie could tell she wasn't her usual self.

"We'll do formal filming in the behind the scenes areas, but then we'll allow you to do your own self cam work throughout the areas of the zoo the public has regular access to." Minseok explained as A.C.E got last second touch ups.

"What animals are we seeing today?" Asked Chan excitedly. They were in the vet and quarantine areas so it was unpredictable what had been planned for them.

"It's a surprise." Charlie said, the most excited A.C.E had ever seen her.

Byun Minsoo would be taking the lead in speaking for the cameras but suggested Charlie stay by to help handle animals and manage the guests. Minsoo might be strict but she was fair, knowing Charlie wanted to do this with her friends she wasn't going to exclude her.

Guerin was hanging back with Minseok as preparations were made. "Noona do you know what we're gonna see?" Chan tried to wheedle from her, pouting slightly. Guerin stared pointedly away from him.

"Don't pull that cute stuff on me, I can't tell you." Of course she knew what animals Charlie was working with, she couldn't let some aegyo spoil the surprise. Chan pouted more and shook his shoulders in a small tantrum.

"Alright that's enough." Minseok stepped in before Guerin could cave, he redirected A.C.E to the main area so they could begin filming. The recording started with a tour of the facilities, showing equipment and how to accommodate all the different animals they had based on type and size. They explained the importance of training animals to participate in their own veterinary care voluntarily then showed them a video example of a mountain lion presenting for a blood draw, and a gorilla opening it's mouth for its teeth to be examined, or a macaque presenting its arm for an insulin injection. Minsoo continued to talk about the research and breeding that the zoo participated and how it was vital for conservation efforts and how it benefitted animals in the wild.

The boys were perfect guests, asking questions and reacting well. They saw a few animals in the quarantine area, new to the zoo and waiting to be introduced to their new homes. The last area they were taken to was for longer term housing for animals that couldnt be in the usual enclosures. A spot had been sectioned, layered with blankets, plushies and other toys. The boys, perplexed, were instructed to go in and sit down with Minsoo while Charlie disappeared momentarily. She returned with an inauspicious crate, facing it away from A.C.E she opened the door and sat with Minsoo, both grinning for the surprise.

Two young tiger cubs tottered they way out, mowing. The trepidation left A.C.E as they all exclaimed in amazement and adoration. Minsoo and Charlie showed A.C.E how to bottle feed them, then let them take turns.

"Their mother was a first time mom, and she wouldnt take care of them." Minsoo explained as the boys cooed sadly, "It's not unusual for that to happen with new mothers even in the wild. But since we are here we made the choice to step in and help raise them." Once the babies were fed they were left to roam and play. One clambered into Jun's lap and fell asleep, the other playing with a toy with Donghun and Byeongkwan. Jun couldn't control his face, his amazement and joy at being chosen as he got everyone's attention and pointed to the sleeping kitten. Seyoon and Chan scooted near him to pet the sleeping animal. Charlie couldn't stop herself from grinning, Guerin knew at least part of it was Jun's reaction and not just the cute tiger cubs.

Once it was time to say goodbye to the kittens, A.C.E did their formal goodbye with them and the filming for behind the scenes ended. The rest of the staff and guests got an opportunity to greet the tigers as well and once Guerin had her turn she flagged down Charlie as the babies were taken back to their enclosure. After a brief talk with Minsoo who let out a restrained laugh and nod, Charlie and Guerin went to a series of smaller tanks on the opposite side of the room, Guerin returning with her hands closed suspiciously.

"We have one more animal for you to meet." Charlie said with a chuckle. Donghun was the only one with the good sense to he suspicious.

"This is one of my favorite animals." Guerin said with a grin, uncovering her hand and showing a large male Madagascar Hissing Cockroach sitting placidly in her hand. All five boys instinctively recoiled, Chan and Jun exclaiming in surprise. A.C.E's reaction elicited chuckles from most of the staff if they werent busy being disgusted themselves.

"It's okay guys. They're harmless!" Guerin said holding it up. Donghun and Jun recovered the fastest, still looking apprehensive and surprised respectively. Chan was behind Jun, leaning around him curiously but still looking fearful. Beyongkwan, eyes wide, didnt move forward so quickly and Seyoon was the furthest away had a very subtle terror that could only be read in his eyes.

"They're really cool, they're called hissing cockroaches cause they hiss!" She gave the cockroach a light pet down it's back which caused it to take two steps forward and hiss quietly as it protested the contact. The boys jumped again. "So insects dont have lungs, they breath through small holes along their body called spiracles. These guys have evolved to force air out of those holes to make a hissing sound that they use to communicate to each other or even predators! Their mouths are too small to bite us so they're harmless!" She was so enthusiastic in the explanation it couldnt help but draw the boys curiosity. She explained how to tell males from females and how most cockroaches are pests at all and how vital they are to the environment. Eventually Donghun worked up the courage first to touch it when offered. Jun became somewhat enamored and greeted the insect before he touched it, but jumped when it hissed before laughing at his own reaction. Chan actually opted to hold it and Byeongkwan even moved forward but Seyoon stayed in the back.

"Come on Hyung!" Chan called to him, looking more closely at the cockroach.

"I'm just looking at stuff over here you guys go on without me." Seyoon said, pretending to examine equipment near him.

"It is kind of cute." Jun admitted, petting it again, still jumping slightly when it hissed.

"On a scale of Seyoon to a Cicada how cute is it?" Donghun joked causing Jun, Chan, Byeongkwan, Guerin and Charlie to laugh.

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