#VIOLENTLY VOMITING SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING ETC ETC

[temerestercore]

WE COULD HAVE BEEN A REAL NATION

[andonutty]

my first draft of this post had me sounding like an utter maniac, so this is take two, where i’m going to attempt to not sound as absolutely insane as i am actually on the inside. so the as dusk falls promo trailer took over my life a few weeks back and i managed to stop myself from obsessively (and i mean obsessively) rewatching it for a while, but then i rewatched it twice in the last few minutes and barely resisted the urge to start open-mouth sobbing. because it makes me emotional! and so as not to repeat the mistakes of my last draft i will end that line of thought right here.

there are a lot of things that make me scream cry throw up etc about this trailer, but i am going to talk specifically in this post about the thing that i am MOST composed about and LEAST prone to start vomiting about. which is jim.

it feels wrong to start out with this post, since i haven’t actually talked yet about how masterfully composed this trailer actually is. but tl;dr: everything about this promo is fucking phenomenal and it makes me violently ill (mentally physically spiritually etc). but the one thing that’s really relevant about the composition of the trailer here is the shots they chose for it. and again there’s a lot to say here, but let me just put it this way:

the promo trailer is for whatever game was being advertised in this poster. the only character on this poster that is not featured prominently in the trailer is joyce, and i can kind of get why that is. but it’s important and striking to me that bear and jim are neither on this poster nor are they ANYWHERE to be seen in this trailer. (sidenote & tangent i’m so relieved that bear is not present in any promo materials that i know of, since his inclusion in the story is one that i think was always meant to be shocking and jarring, and having bear in the promo stuff would sort of cheapen that impact. people should not be going into this game going omg sam douglas!! they should be entering this game invested in the story and the characters and then sam douglas jumpscare like a freight train) this is especially true for jim, since there are a lot of scenes in the promo where we know that he’s supposed to be there, but he’s purposely obscured from us. when zoe’s voiceover says “we were on our way to start a new life”, it shows her and her parents in the car, with no indication that there is a whole ass joe biden behind vince.

then, in the trailer, when the family’s approaching the motel, we get this shot:

vs. in the game, where that shot is actually...

... cutely including jim’s ass. and then here, we get:

where the trailer frames it like vince is alone, when in reality, dale’s already knocked jim to the floor. in the scenes where we see vince’s family, it’s always heavily focusing on vince, michelle, and zoe, who seem to be the three main characters of the walker family. (similarly, and this is why i wanted to make the main characters post before this one, but we live and we learn, the holt boys are shown in the promo trailer to be the three main characters of the holt family.)

so jim is just like casually missing. he’s just not there. and that is intentional, imo. because i remember the heart attack this man gave me when vince and zoe are going back to the car and we just see THIS:

jim FUCKING jumpscare. now okay, let me backtrack a little because this is IMPORTANT. when i was first obsessively watching this trailer, obviously the first thing i noticed was this little ditty, set to jay’s voiceover of “it was a long-forgotten secret buried in the dark”:

now obviously my first reaction is (beyonce meme) JIM1?!?!?!??!?!?! because i’ve already played this game and i know that jim admits to being the reason why the desert dream happens. jim clearly has a history with the desert dream and with two rock in general: paul recognizes him right off the bat and slowly remembers him as being a “travelling salesman” that went to sharon’s bar fifteen to twenty years ago. jim also, when he hears jay say that his mother is coming inside, immediately reaches for a cap to obscure his face. if the player chooses to send jim out instead of zoe, jim also stumbles to the ambulance specifically because he doesn’t want dante to see him. and when jim is concussed, if you ask him where he is, he calls the desert dream by its former name. so it’s made really clear that jim’s been to two rock before and that he’s interacted with these characters before. and he’s clearly afraid of being recognized by these people, always dodging questions about him looking familiar and doing everything in his power not to interact with key players like sharon and dante.

and something i have always noticed about jim is that whenever he’s outside, the shots he has usually include the water tower. and i noticed this because... well <3 the sniper that shoots at dale is on the water tower. so it was interesting and important to me, so seeing it in the background of, like, every jim shot was a little interesting. they are not really subtle with it! like, we see it in a bunch of different places for jim. we obviously see it in the jim jumpscare, and then we see it again when he’s approaching the desert dream:

and then if you decide to go talk to jim instead of michelle, you get this shot right after vince and jim walk out of the motel room:

and i can’t find a playthrough on youtube where someone lets jim go, but i have a feeling they include a shot of the water tower there too. so when im seeing that person digging something and they’re kind of tall and lanky and the water tower is in the background, i am like. that has to be jim walker right. like it has to be. but then im looking at this picture and i’m like ... no wait that TREE. i recognize that TREE too. and what do you know! right after zoe finishes her opening monologue in book one, what is the FIRST shot we get?

TREE.

WATER TOWER.

i’m like oh my GOD. the rest stop. the FUCKING rest stop on route 66 that weird ass abandoned little rest stop.

in the GROUND?!?!?!? under a TRE???e?!?

JUST TOT THE THErEE?!?!?!

and then. and t. AND. look at this. these are the shots from the trailer.

tell me why the tree is so emphasized. tell me why the water tower is there. do you know what we get in-game? do you KNOW?!?!?!?!

NOTHING. NOTHING. THEY PURPOSELY PUT THE TREE AND WATER TOWER IN THERE TO SIGNAL TO YOU THAT THE TREE AND WATER TOWER ARE A WALKER CURSE. AND THEN THE FUCKING WATER TOWER CAN KILL DALE. THE WATER TOWER IS LITERALLY A DEATH OMEN. IT IS L.

like my personal theory is that jim killed someone and he is digging a grave in the trailer. like he does offhandedly mention to zoe that he had a car he really loved and he just got rid of it one day, and as dusk falls experts (aka bluffmotel dot tumblr dot com) have theorized like okay maybe he moved the body in it so he had to scrap it. and it would make sense since it parallels jim to bear, since bear um ... killed someone! and then buried him alive! or at least tried to. like idk it says something TO ME that the only two characters who must die in every playthrough of as dusk falls are dale and jim, and both of them are heavily defined by the water tower. IDK! i think jim killed someone. and that something related to them is buried under the tree in two rock by the rest stop. and idk who the stalker is. maybe it’s eddie.

[seiyasabi]

Yamaguchi’s Awakening

(Here’s a Yandere Yamaguchi Tadashi x Female Reader story :PP I know you only mentioned a Mommy fic, but I kinda added a lil more ‘spice’ to that lol, so I hope that’s okay! If not, feel free to message me! Also, he’s known the stutter, so I made it a bit prevalent in the story. Sorry if that’s annoying.

TW: !Noncon/dubcon!, Mommy kink!, !You are p mean lol, Painslut Yama!, Masochist Yama!, You physically fight him but he loves it, practically wrestles you to the floor!, thigh fucking, creampie!, Calls himself baby boy but alternates that w ‘pig slut!’, etc.. 

Please proceed with caution!) 

You woke up to Tadashi’s moans, eyes practically popping open in both terror and confusion. You’d taken a nap whilst waiting for him to come home from work, but you hadn’t expected to wake up to such a lewd sound. 

Pushing yourself up with shaky arms, your slip’s thin straps slide off of your moisturised shoulders, causing more of your cleavage to show in the skimpy garment. Tired eyes land on the green haired man’s slumped form, his long, lean body practically falling off of a plush chair on the other side of the room. His large hand is fisting his cock at an alarming pace, while his hips stutter upwards to meet his ministrations. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You frown in mild annoyance, scoffing in disgust. Is he really getting off to your sleeping form? 

“Mu-Mommy!” His face is pulled into the perfect Ahegao expression, tongue lolling out stupidly, as drool drips down his chin. Beads of sweat intermix with his perfectly scattered freckles, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tsukishima helped him kidnap you, you most likely would have found it arousing, “Puh-Please pu-punish me! I-I’m such a-a bad boy!” 

Screwing your face up in disgust, you practically spit venom at him, “Oh my God, you’re fucking disgusting. How dare you-” 

With a loud whine, he cums. His liquidy release coats his chest in large streaks, partially splashing himself in the face with his own spunk. The liquid creates a large puddle on the floor, demonstrating just how much semen he’s stored in his purple tinged balls. The sight before you has left you absolutely speechless, as Tadashi keens and whines for you to punish him. 

“Please, please, Mommy! I-I need you to-” 

“What the actual fuck did I just witness?” Your eyes never leave the puddle on your room’s wood look tile, “Oh my God, you’re such a disgusting pervert.”

At your words, the freckled man practically throws his naked body onto your lap, “Yu-you chose me! That means that you love me, right? A-and if Mommy loves me, she should punish me for being bad! Please hit me!” His previously softened cock is now standing back at attention, humping at your exposed legs. 

One of your perfectly manicured hands (thanks to Yamaguchi’s hard work) shoves his head off of your stomach, “Get the fuck off of me! Clearly, I chose wrong, because you’re just a slobbering pig!” Tears bead his large eyes, but the tall man doesn’t back down. He continues to try to rut against you, causing your shoves to become more violent, until you effectively shove him off of your bed. He lands on the hard ground with a ‘smack,’ as he moans on impact. 

“Ye-yes! Hi-hit me mu-more! I de-deserve it, your baby bu-boy deserves it!” He tries once more to crawl his way onto you, but you react far quicker than him. You use the ball of your foot to push him away by the forehead, dropping him back onto the cold floor. 

“Stay the fuck away from me! I knew I should’ve liked your asshole for a best friend, at least he wouldn’t be such a fucking weirdo!” You push yourself off of your bed, trying to escape to the bathroom, but it’s to no avail. Tadashi, in some sort of lucidity, drags you to the ground with him. His lean form tries to trap you to the floor, but your thrashing limbs and harsh elbows keep him from getting too close, “Stop it! Let go of me-”

“Du-don’t say you want someone else! Your precious piggy will do anything you want! Let your baby boy make his Mommy feel good!” You end up on your back, allowing your hands to worm their way between the two of you, and create a small distance. Taking full advantage of that, you get a single hand up by your face, which gives you the perfect opportunity to slap the dogshit out of the feral man. 

He moans breathily, as if he’s savouring the feeling of your harsh touches, “You’re fucking pathetic, Yamaguchi. No one would willingly choose you, which is why you lied and manipulated me!” You smack him multiple more times, his freckled, drooly cheeks quickly becoming bright red. You force your knees against his toned stomach, kneeing him uncomfortably in the ribs, which he just pushed more of his weight on. 

“Yes! Yes! Tell me more of the things you hate about me! Your harsh words are almost enough to make me cum!” Screwing up your face in absolute fury, you punch him in the throat, whilst simultaneously kicking him in the cock, causing him to cum immediately with a small scream, “Mu-Mommy, your piggy is cumming!” His hot, watery cum lands on your slip clad body, making you want to vomit. So, in a last ditch effort, you shove him off whilst he’s still recovering from a second intense orgasm. 

Scrambling to your feet, you make a break for the bathroom door, only to be dragged down to the floor by a firm grip on your ankle. Tadashi’s hot, wet body slots itself on top of yours, effectively pinning you down. Although he may be quite slim, his sheer size is enough to weigh you down. 

“Get off of me! You’re fucking sick!” He pants next to your ear, practically trying to mount you like a dog. His chest is firmly against your back, pushing down your lower half. His knees spread yours apart, allowing him to slot himself between your legs. 

You try to hit him, but because he’s behind you, your hits don’t land very hard. Both of his hands fumble whilst he tries to push your panties down, causing you to thrash even more than before. Growing tired of your ministrations, he rips the garment from your pussy. 

“Stop it! Yamaguchi, get off of me! Don’t do this to me!” Tears drip down your face in thick rivulets, as you sob in pure fury, “I-I’ll never forgive you! I’ll never forgive a pathetic fuck like you! I should have never become your friend- you don’t deserve any!” He lightly moans at your words, not quite listening to what you have to say, but enjoying your harsh tone. 

“Ye-yes, Mommy! Threaten me! I love how you belittle me so well!” He then tries to force his long cock inside of you, but is unsuccessful. You’d just barely moved your thighs together in time, blocking him from breaching your unprepared walls. But, that doesn’t seem to faze him, as he starts to hump your sweat slickened thighs, “Oh-oh my God, your thighs feel so good, Mommy! Your piggy slut loves them!” His eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head, as multiple squirts of precum escape his cock, slicking your pussy opening inadvertently. 

You throw your elbows at his head again, but he just lets them hit him, relishing your harsh blows. If anything, your attempted hits trigger him to hump you even faster. Which, in turn, unfortunately, causes him to accidentally hook his cockhead on your cunny opening, and force his prick inside of you. Your mouth gapes in both shock and pain, as you let out a shrill scream. He slams a sweaty hand over your mouth, fortunately minding your nose, letting you breathe through it. His entire body is convulsing, as he sits inside of you, relishing your twitching walls around his cock. 

“Mu-Mommy’s piggy lu-loves Mommy’s pu-pussy!” In quick, sudden movements, he bucks his hips into yours, his breeder balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. Your pants and light moans are muffled behind his hand, as you continue to cry and try to get free. Your thrashing does nothing but seat you further on his long cock, allowing him to hit your g-spot with every movement. Your pussy gushes at his ministrations, as you fall limp, “Fu-fuck, Mommy! Mommy, I-I’m gunna cum!” 

Your slack mouth tries to deny him, but your eyes practically roll up into your skull as you cum suddenly, spraying girl cum on his cock and on the floor below your chest, practically covering your entire torso. Feeling your orgasm milking his cock, Yamaguchi cums quickly after you, filling you to the brim with his watery, overabundant cum. It was like he was trying to fill every crevice inside of you with his milk, relishing how well you take him. You practically collapse to the ground, no longer having the strength to hold yourself off of the now slick wood look tile. This, in turn, causes his still cumming cock to fall out of you, spraying your ass and thighs with his seed. 

Yamaguchi strokes himself, trying to wring out as much cum as possibly on your crumpled, fucked out form. He looks down at you with an innocent grin, before smooching you kindly on the face, “Thank you, Mommy, your baby boy feels sooo much better, now that I’ve filled your pretty cunny! Do you want a bath?” 

You say nothing, seemingly still in shock at what just transpired. Yams coos at you, trying to gain your attention, but when you don’t respond, he takes it upon himself to clean you up. 

“It’s okay, sometimes when Tsukki would experiment with me, I’d be too sore to move, too! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re all pretty and clean after a long, hot bath.” 

With wobbly legs, the tall man stalks off to the bathroom, not batting an eye at your weird silence. 

[after-witch]

Doctor Doctor [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Doctor Doctor [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Needles and doctors and gowns, oh my. Overhaul only wants the best medical care for you--but the only thing you want is to get far away from his impromptu clinic. 

For request: Anonymous said: If you're still taking requests I would love to see what you imagine yandere chisaki would do with a darling that is terrified of all things medical, ESPECIALLY needles. Fic or HC

notes: yandere, medical stuff (needles, etc)

"Can't you just put me to sleep like you did before?"

You hate how whiny your voice sounds, how childish and light. But then again, everything you say feels small and pointless lately. Living with Kai Chisaki has a way of doing that to you. He has you on a schedule. He makes you wear night gowns and soft, flowing clothes. He makes you eat at the same time every morning, ever afternoon, every evening. He picks out your towels and your soaps and likes to use plaque rinse to make sure you're brushing and flossing adequately.

If only staring into your open mouth to look for spots of bright blue rinse was the extent of his medical inclinations. But it's not, and so here you sit, legs nervously kicking, on a medical exam table in a compact little room near his office. 

He brings you here every Monday for your... check-up. But this is the first time you’ve ever been awaken inside these four sterile walls. Normally, he sedates you--he lets you stick out your arm, trembling and terrified, then he injects you with a needle and when you wake up, you're back in your room, back in your bed, and the only sign that anything happened is the soreness in your arms and bandages on your skin.

But today was different. Today he gripped your arm firmly and led you to the room himself. The mere sight of the soft white walls and the examination table and the empty tray that will soon be filled with tools makes you want to vomit. You stumble a little as he guides you towards the table, grips your upper arm as you numbly let yourself be hoisted onto the cold surface, the icy smoothness broken only by a scratchy disposable liner.

You manage to meet his gaze and his eyes show nothing but condescension. He knows you hate doctors. He has to know this. You shrink away every time he insists on checking your blood pressure in the morning. Even weighing yourself on the scale, so he can make sure you're eating enough, makes your stomach twist in nervous knots.

"No more sleeping through your check-ups. I'm weaning you off the sedatives, (Y/N). It's not good to be so reliant on them."

You know this. And you hate being sedated, you really really do. You hate the way it burns your arm when you feel it rushing through your bloodstream and you hate those agonizingly slow seconds where everything is heavy and lidded and there's a terrible, burning fear that spreads through your body like poison. 

But at least when you let him sedate you before your "check-ups," it's a choice--a choice you're making, a choice that makes you feel sick and terrified, but a choice all the same. You always stick out your arm and try not to look and try not to cry, and then it's burning and darkness and lights out. It not the same as when you used to try to escape or when you sometimes (bad, uncontrollably thing that you are) scream at him or kick or have sobbing tantrums and get jabbed unexpectedly to calm you down.

He clears his throat, and you look up. Lost in your thoughts, you didn't see him standing there, waiting, with medical gown in his arms. You hate this medical gown. It looks thin and scratchy. It's a terrible, clinical blue.

"Can... can I just wear my night gown?" You ask. Your night gown is soft, and familiar, and comforting. And you’re stalling. 

He still has on his black mask, but you can tell he's smiling. A pity-filled, soft smile. The kind that makes you feel 10 inches tall. You hate this smile. 

"Not for your check up." He leaves no room for argument. He stares at you, mildly, and you know that there's no point in protesting. You take the gown in your slightly shaking hands. He turns around, as always, and you get changed. You were right. It is thin. It is scratchy. The coldness of the table seeps through the paper and makes your legs tremble even harder. You set your clothes down on the plastic bin set on the bed, and watch numbly as he sets it to the side.

Your body begins to feel weightless from anxiety. There's a deep-rooted part of you that wants to run, but even if there was somewhere to go (and there isn't) you know your legs would buckle the moment your feet stepped onto the cold floor. Your limbs feel like jelly. You briefly wonder if he did sedate you, and you didn't know it. But there's no burning or rushing, only fear, fear, fear.

So you sit (you’re so good right now) and let him measure your blood pressure even though the cuff hurts and you hate the sound the little bulb makes when it inflates; and you manage to breathe in, breathe out, nice and big, like tells you to, while he scribbles down your blood pressure (a little high) and your heart rate (a little fast).

You watch intently as he turns and heads toward a row of cabinets bolted to the wall. You crane and stretch and try to see what he's doing, what he's getting, what he's going to do to you. The fear enveloping your chest only tightens harder when you see him set down the syringes and tubes and little empty bottles. You're grateful that this all happens before breakfast, because it would be so much more than thin, acidic bile threatening to come up your throat at the moment. You know you're trembling, he knows you're trembling; but he says nothing, and instead heads for the sink.

"Kai." Your voice is soft and hoarse. Your throat feels constricted.

"Hmm?" He's scrubbing his hands with solution vigorously, obsessively. The sink is loud, a rushing in your ears, combined with harsh wet noises of soap-on-skin.

"I'm-scared-of-needles."

His hand twists the sink handle and the room is horribly silent.

"What did you say? The sink was too loud." He speaks firmly, nonchalantly, as he removes his black mask and instead straps on a medical one. It's a clinical blue. It matches your gown.

You can feel yourself starting to lose it. You can feel your trembles turn into violent shaking. Your legs are twitching up and down of their own accord. You tighten your jaw and try to gain control over yourself.

"I'm. scared. of. needles," you force out between clenched teeth. Your teeth chatter so hard you're sure that he can hear them.

You want to run. You need to run. Flight, flight, flight, you think.

He approaches you slowly, with his palms turned up. It reminds you of approaching a frightened animal. A lost dog, waiting to bolt.

"The needles have medicine," he says, patiently, matter-of-factly. "The medicine helps you stay healthy.”

You have to be calm. You have to be calm, or who knows what might happen. Your voice is still light and faint.

"Okay. Okay, I understand that." You lick your lips and they taste like stale, clinical air. "But I don't... I don't want you to use them. Can't I just drink my medicine?" You will drink it, you think, you will be so good and drink it all and then you can get back into your soft clothes and into your soft room and underneath your soft blankets where there are no needles or tubes or snapping rubber gloves.

His eyes crinkle. The damn smile. "You can't drink this type of medicine, sweetness." He turns and picks up one of the syringes. It's already filled with something. The needle on the end is small and thin and pointy and he's going to put it in your skin.

You don't do it consciously, you really don't. But you pull your legs up on the table and scoot furiously to the back, near the scratchy pillow, against the wall as far as you can go. "I don't want it!" Your tone is so high and so afraid. 

"Shhh," he says. He’s approaching you, approaching the wild animal, waiting to bolt.

"No," you say, "no, no, no." You don't plan it. You don't mean to do it. But your body can't flee, so it fights. And as soon as he's close enough, you KICK. The syringe flies out of his hand and onto the floor, clattering harshly on the floor. You watch it spin out and land underneath the sink.

You stare at the wayward syringe for only a moment before looking back at Kai, and oh. Oh. He doesn't look mad, he doesn't look mad. But he looks decisive and firm and you've seen this look before, this you-don't-know-what's-best-for-you look, and it makes you retch. Nothing comes up except a feeling of fear and even that lasts for a second, because in a moment he's pinning down your wrist without a word.

You squirm and cry out and breath harshly, but none of it matters because in a few seconds he has a strap wrapped and locked around your wrist. Your wrist is firmly pinned against the terribly cold table and he wastes no time in strapping down the other wrist.

"No, no!" You say, and you can do nothing now but kick and cry and scream. "Please, please, I'm sorry," you say, weak and fluttering. But it doesn't matter, either, and he holds your legs down and straps them tightly as well.

When you're all pinned down, nice and safe and immobile, he looms over you. "Shhh," he says, and you no longer feel like a wild dog but something more helpless and caught. A pinned frog, open on a table. A pinned butterfly, dead on the wall. He strokes your forehead and the rubber medical gloves (snap-snap) feel clammy against your skin.

"Poor thing," he says. "I should have know that this... phobia of yours might cause a strong reaction. Don't worry." He pulls off the gloves, dirtied with the previous task, and snaps on a new pair. "Now that I'm aware of how serious your phobia is, we can work on fixing it.”

He picks up a fresh syringe and approaches you. You keep your head raised and your neck hurts but you have to see what’s going on, what he’s going to do to you. You wonder if you can choke on air. Your throat feels so tight that it hurts. Your limbs still feel weightless, but they’re pinned--nowhere to go, even if you could float away from all this.

The sight of the syringe, so close to you, so close to your skin to your body to your blood, makes you wish you would just pass out. But you aren’t so lucky. Instead you watch as he swipes your skin with something that smells like metal and you take in a big, gulping sobbing breath as you watch the needle go in and you feel it pinch and pinch and it hurts, it hurts.

He pulls out slowly and you see a spot of blood underneath the gauze he presses on your arm. You look up him, tears already trickling down your cheeks, but you know there’s no argument, no pleading, that will work.

“I’ll redo the dose you kicked away earlier, and then we’ll move on to your blood samples.”

The bed is cold and your gown is thin and scratchy and you can’t move. You can only listen as he methodically picks up the dropped syringe and disposes of it, as he heads back to the tray with the bottles and needles and tools, as he fills up a sterile syringe and approaches you again. His eyes are crinkling with a hidden smile as he approaches you and swipes another area of your arm with the pungent liquid.

“This will be my first time trying out exposure therapy. But I know we’ll get through this together.”

You can’t watch, this time, and your eyes are shrouded in forced darkness as you feel the needle sliding into your skin.

[torquentor]

Aurelio suffers occasionally from something Nana Fatum called ‘the change’ at first, as a joke, comparing it to the menopause, because child Aurelio complained frequently about feeling ‘hot’, ‘sick’, was gaining and losing weight at a horrifically unnatural rate, suffering frequent panic and anxiety attacks.  At first, it was presumed to just be something relating to growth spurts. It was not. 

'Boy’ and 'Zazikiel’ were different entities, but, they have become one in Aurelio.   Aurelio always has one foot in the fade and one foot in the physical realm.     Sometimes, the side of him that was once Zazikiel tries to force himself through physically.      This results in an extremely uncomfortable, agonising, mentally straining situation where he legitimately has to fight that side of himself in order to keep himself from physically transforming into his draconic body. 

Aurelios shift into his draconic form is notoriously gory and painful. It takes between 1hr - 2 days at a push. This is when he is controlling it.  When Zazikiel gets lairy, often after a particularly bad experience in the fade or even an extreme mood, it is even worse.     Imagine there’s a dragon inside your skin trying to force itself out, and you’re trying and actively making effort all the time to force it back in, while also trying to maintain your duties as Black Divine: fight assassination attempts, protect your staff, take care of your mental health, control your mood swings ( that are normally quite aggressive but are now off the chain ) and much more.     Aurelio can endure ‘the change’ for much longer than his usual controlled transformation, and his longest change period has been almost three weeks.

DURING THE CHANGE, AURELIO WILL SUFFER IMMENSE PAIN, AND SICKNESS      as his mortal body and his old god form do battle with themselves.   Things like vomiting, trembling, high temperature to chills, migraines --- as well as aches, limb pain ( think, like, dragon bones trying to force themselves out of human arms and legs :I ), internal bleeding, bone breakages, difficulty breathing which often leads to unconsciousness, general all over fuckin agony as his biology literally violently changes itself.  Inability to walk or even talk sometimes.   Sometimes his draconic form will actually begin to break through his flesh and bone.   I put his change into three categories:

GREEN:               Able to walk and talk easily.  Able to hold a conversation.  Hot flashes, cold chills, difficulty sleeping and eating.   Sickness.    Headaches, but not migraines.   Sweating.     Paleness.       Mild fatigue.     Aches and pains but nothing debilitating.        Suffers nosebleeds and some internal bleeding which can be treated and made easier to bear.        Fluctuating weight loss/gain and more mood swings than usual. AMBER:           Difficulty running and manoeuvring quickly.       Distracted in conversation, can’t focus on too much other than the pain.     Vomiting, especially after meals.       Mental health takes a massive dinger as his physical agony actually starts to drive him a bit mad; may talk nonsense, hallucinate light patterns more frequently ( see my hc on his blindness for more info ), intense mood swings, bouts of crying and screaming when it goes through bad patches.     Mild weight loss/gain.     Migraines, ranging from mild to severe.    Manageable, he can go out, but he prefers to stay secluded when it gets to this stage.       Cannot fight physically at this point and relies on magic to protect himself. RED:   Severe, maddening agony.         No one , is allowed to see him at the red stage.    At this stage, his draconic form actually begins to break through his mortal one.     Jagged teeth tear his cheeks open, a scaled spine forces itself out of his back, claws rip through his fingers. Etc.     Cannot eat or sleep.    Bones break and reform and break and reform and entirely new bones grow seemingly as minutes pass.    Spends most of the day sobbing or forcibly put to sleep through powerful magic, if he isn’t already unconscious from his suffering.         Aurelio sometimes wakes up from dreaming in the red stage already, though this is rare, it is wildly traumatising.    Cannot move, let alone walk.     After a red stage, he is taken into urgent medical care for at least a few days afterwards.

[sickiebabytae]

Stupid hives

Sickie: Taehyung

Caretaker: Jungkook (mostly) and the rest of Bangtan

Word count: 1324 words

Description: In which Taehyung forgets to take his antihistamines in the pre-concert rush and pays the price when his cholinergic urticaria acts up during a performance.

TW: includes mentions of emeto.

--

Taehyung was used to the hustle and bustle before concerts. Final makeup and mic checks, hurriedly going over dances and performances, rushing under the stage for their grand entrance; it was all routine for the young vocalist. 

But there was only one problem: he had cholinergic urticaria. Now, you may be asking what cholinergic urticaria is. Well, in Taehyung’s case, it meant that whenever he would sweat for long periods of time, have extreme emotional changes, or be exposed to hot places, his skin would break out in itchy hives. 

The hives were annoying and held back his performance, but he always took antihistamines so, even if he did start having a reaction, the symptoms would be somewhat subdued. 

Unfortunately, Taehyung was quite a forgetful person, especially when it came to stressful situations. Like the pre-concert rush, for example. A time when the singer’s stomach would roil with nerves and his mind would be racing through all the moves he needed to do. 

These were times when Taehyung was thankful for the members, who would always remind him to take his antihistamines. Especially one member in particular: Jungkook. 

The younger would constantly be on Taehyung’s case, asking him if he’d remembered his medicine, asking his stylist if she’d recalled making his clothes loose and silky, the usual shebang. 

However, there had been one time where Jungkook had hurriedly run off to use the bathroom, leaving Taehyung alone with his thoughts. That day, the vocalist had passed by his antihistamines like they were nothing. It had completely slipped his mind that he needed to take them, what with his anxiety before the show. 

He didn’t realize the fatal mistake until the members were under the stage, preparing to come up on the underground lift. Jungkook had turned to him, asking his usual question too late. “Did you take your meds?” 

At his words, Taehyung’s eyes widened. He swore under his breath and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. How could he have been so stupid?! “N-No,” he stammered, “I totally forgot!”

Jungkook sucked in a breath. “Right, um…” He sighed, scrambling for some solution. He found nothing but flashbacks to previous times the older hadn’t taken the antihistamines. It was an ugly mix of red skin, wheezing breaths, and throwing up. 

One other fact about cholinergic urticaria: in severe cases, symptoms such as nausea, shortness of breath, dizziness, etc would occur due to the hives. 

And Taehyung was was prone to those severe cases.

He began to panic, which didn’t help in the slightest. He could already feel his back start to prickle with that familiar itch. 

Realizing he needed to calm down, he took a deep breath. He wouldn’t be able to get through the first half of the show if he was freaking out. He willed his nerves to back up a bit and steeled himself for the next hour. He was going to be fine. Absolutely, 100% fine.

Oh, how wrong he was. 

Half an hour into performing, and Taehyung could feel his condition worsening. His arms burned and itched, so did his back, chest, and legs. His windpipe felt like it was closing, and, worst of all, his stomach churned with nausea. And it wasn’t from nerves.

He knew that there was a very small chance he’d be able to get through the next half hour without at least passing out on stage due to lack of breath, or throwing up, or collapsing. 

Taehyung began to panic again, his anxiety making his stomach churn more painfully and his nausea rise. He whimpered, not knowing what to do. He was still supposed to be performing, everyone else was dancing, but he had to take a break. He knew if he didn’t, there would be more going on than just him sitting down…

However, despite his attempts to not make things into a big deal, he stopped entirely dancing and just collapsed to the ground, his breathing heavy. He heard gasps and mutterings, but honestly couldn’t care less. His ears were ringing, his head was spinning, he was so nauseous, he couldn’t breathe, everything felt uncomfortable and itchy. 

Through his haze, he saw Jungkook crouched in front of him, his eyes worried. The maknae slowly helped Taehyung backstage, the poor, sick vocalist having barely registered any of it. Just that someone carried him to the bathroom and, within seconds, he was retching violently, copious amounts of vomit spilling past his lips.

Jungkook frowned worriedly and held Taehyung’s sweaty hair back, hating the wheezes that Taehyung let out, how sick he seemed. “Oh hyung…” He cooed, biting his lip. “Why’d you have to forget?”

Taehyung threw up for what seemed like hours, but, in reality, it had probably only been a few minutes. He took in a big, scratchy breath and coughed miserably, his hands coming to his hair; a nervous habit of his. Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Hold on, Tae, I’ll go get a medic.” He promised before rushing off. 

Moments later, Taehyung was being led through breathing exercises while a numbing balm was rubbed against his back, arms, legs, stomach, and cheeks. He felt miserable, and not necessarily because his body was slowly deteriorating (though that may have been a major part of it). He felt guilty. Very guilty; he’d caused the whole show to come to a stop, burdened his members and made ARMY worried and panicked. It was all his fault.

He began to let out choked sobs, which instantly prompted the others to rush to his side, soothe him as best they could. “Oh, Tae, you’re okay!” One said. “Don’t cry, baby, everything’s alright!” Another cooed. The words meant nothing to Taehyung. “I-I was so s-stupid!” He cried, biting his lip hard and whimpering. “Everything w-went wrong because of m-me!” 

The members were quick to shoot down his claims and shake their heads, hands coming to ruffle Taehyung’s hair or rub his back or shoulders. “Don’t think that way!” They seemed to say in unison. “It wasn’t your fault you got sick, Tae-yah. Sure, you forgot to take your antihistamines, but it’s okay! We all forget sometimes, it’s human.” Namjoon assured, a small smile coming to his face. “Besides, at least you didn’t lose your passport.” He joked with a chuckle. This elicited Taehyung to cough out a laugh, his spirits lifting a bit. “I guess so.” 

They shared a few more giggles and laughs backstage, until Taehyung was feeling 100% again, before shuffling back out onto the stage. 

The crowd instantly erupted with confused shrieks and screams, which made Taehyung’s nerves pile once more. He glanced to the other members for support before raising his mic and clearing his throat. ARMY immediately hushed, intent on figuring out what on Earth had happened to their beloved singer. Taehyung’s eyes shook as well as his voice when he talked. “I j-just want to apologize for what happened a few minutes ago,” he began, swallowing nervously. “I wasn’t feeling very well, and it caused me to lose energy very fast on stage. I’m really, really sorry for making the concert come to a stop, and for worrying you all when I really am fine.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you all for your concern, but I assure you that there’s nothing to worry about, and that I have been taken care of. Hopefully you continue to enjoy your time in the rest of the concert.” He finished with a smile and a bow, giggling a bit at how he heard multiple, ‘I love you’s echo from the crowd.  

He was happy for the second half of performances, singing passionately and dancing to whatever songs he thought he could manage. ARMY and the staff were very sweet about it, especially the other members. His brothers. 

He thought to himself, then and there, that he wouldn’t have his life any other way. Even if he had to deal with urticaria.

--

I. finally. got. this. out!!! Hallelujah! Praise the lord!

Anyways, I hope it makes up for the utterly long wait, and I’m so sorry it even took this long. The ending is a bit rushed, and I’m not that happy with it, but I just wanted to post the damn thing. Besides, I don’t know how else to end it.

I hope you guys like it! Hopefully the next fic won’t take so long to get out.

[amairawrites]

⭐

I know most people who follow my tumblr came here because they read To Be Vulnerable.

So I’m going to talk about the story behind Fragile! You can go read it here.

It’s my least-read fic on AO3, currently the newest posted (I’m not counting chapter updates on TBV). But the abandoned WIP it came from is the oldest fic I wrote in the VLD fandom. Fragile was one of the early sections the fic, chronologically.

Stand By Me was always an ambitious project that I was never really going to finish – a full series rewrite, from the perspectives of Pidge and Shiro, completely abandoning the idea that this was ever supposed to be a child-appropriate show and diving straight into the very real effects of war on teenagers and young adults.

I, uh… clearly don’t do cutesy fluffy stories?

So, the basics: very slowburn eventual Keith/Pidge ship, left off at 36k words (some of which had been color-coded gray to mark it as no longer what I wanted), probably rated M or E for vaguely described awkward teenagers having their first time together and references to rubbing one out, and a whole lot of violence.

I adapted small bits of the show adapted to meet the tone or plot twists I had been planning. For example, when Ulaz first infiltrates the castle and flings Pidge across the hall, she collides with Keith, who cushions her fall, then gets back up to attack. In Stand By Me, he stays by her side and instead assumes a defensive pose over her to protect her.

A lot of it was working the song Stand By Me into the story as a thematic element as well as a way for the paladins to bond. Originally, Shiro sings it to Pidge when she’s stressed and upset and missing her family. Later, after he disappears, she finds Keith sitting in the observation deck (Did the castleship have one in the show? Who cares! You can do anything in fanfics!) singing the song to himself, and joins in.

I also jumped on the idea of the paladin bonds extending beyond paladin-lion to allow the paladins to connect to each other. It varied between characters, but the general idea covered sensing basic thoughts and emotions, as well as physical proximity and well-being.

Oh, and that everyone’s bayards could change shape with enough focus and a strong enough bond with their lion etc.

Ultimately, it shaped up to be a far more violent, raw, and emotional story than VLD was. I dropped it because I couldn’t figure out a satisfying ending after the major climax. I also decided a lot of what I had written earlier didn’t fit with what I was aiming for later, and that was a problem when I basically jumped around from start to finish and left huge gaps of plot development untouched. Then a lost of the plot points I was running with felt unsatisfying or downright bad, and then….

Yeah. I’m also a better writer now than I was when I started writing it.

And, if you’re still curious, I’m sharing another snippet of Stand By Me behind the cut. Feel free to message me with more questions about it, too!

Warnings for graphic violence in the first scene, and extremely mild sexual content between teenagers in the following scene.

Context: When Lotor’s crew encounters the paladins in the fanfic timeline’s equivalent to early s3 (Shiro is missing), it gets very violent very quickly. This is at the end of their third encounter, where Lotor is actually trying to kill them.

*****

“Keith! NO!” Pidge screams, spinning towards him.

His skin is split up the side, and she can’t tell where his blood ends and the red accents on his armor begin. The same red splatters up the blade of Lotor’s sword. 

Time seems to slow as her bayard crackles to life. Lotor raises his arm for a finishing strike.

Lotor is a skilled, accomplished warrior. He could easily defeat opponents twice his size, one-handed and blindfolded. He has sent Pidge flying across hallways without any effort. In his eyes, she is not, and never has been, any threat to him.

Which is probably why, when Pidge lets out a feral screech and sprints at him, he barely gives her a second look, a flick of his sword.

A flick that somehow positions it perfectly for her to disarm him.

Keith meets her eyes and mouths some kind of protest.

She’s sure her mind has gone offline. Her body moves of its own accord. Distantly, she’s aware that the other Paladins are charging in behind her, and she knows they’re there, but they might as well be figments of her imagination, shades of reality that don’t matter. All sound is muffled, all thought ceases. She can’t do anything other than keep her eyes locked with Keith’s. She can’t hear anything other than his desperate, shaky breaths. 

She can’t lose him, too.

The grappling hook of her bayard wraps around the blade and her hand yanks it back. Her head turns for a brief moment to track it as it skitters across the floor, as she crouches, scoops it up, and swings it upwards.

Through Lotor’s right thigh, opening his abdomen, and ending at a bone in his left shoulder.

His face is the textbook picture of shock, of surprise, mouth drawn open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, eyebrows arched, as though it was frozen in that position long before his own sword broke his skin.

Blood, purplish and hot, erupts out of his chest in spurts. Pidge relaxes her arm, nearly vomiting at the soft squelch his wound makes as she lets the sword drop.

Sound is back. Time is back. Everything is loud and fast and overwhelming and she’s going to be sick.

And Lotor falls forward, collapses onto her, leaks on her. Someone is shrieking, screaming, crying, and she doesn’t even realize it’s her until Hunk pulls the dying prince off and drops him to the floor. There are entrails on her thighs, and some sick part of her mind actually pauses to wonder if Galrans or Alteans have digestive systems configured like humans’ and maybe those are intestines?

Then, as if it’s not enough already, Lotor actually gurgles his final breaths, and Pidge tastes bile and acid in her throat, feels it in her nose, and – oh, she’s actually vomiting now.

She yanks her helmet off and scrambles over toward Keith, only for Hunk to grab her around the waist and pin her to his side.

“Hunk, let me go! Let me go! I have to – have to get to Keith. I have to protect Keith,” she half-sobs, her voice shrill and pinched. None of her kicks or punches have any effect, and his grip is starting to hurt even as his voice soothes, and she has no fight left in her anyway.

“It’s okay, Pidge. You already protected him. Lance and Allura got him, and he’s going to be okay.”

******

Lotor grins viciously at her, yellow eyes crinkling with joy at his handiwork.

Keith is dead.

He’s dead, and it’s her fault that she couldn’t stop Lotor in time. She cries out, lunges for him, but nothing she does can touch him. He’s too fast, too strong.

The walls start to curve and droop inwards and he just laughs over her.

Purple blood splatters out his chest.

Lotor hisses her name, her failure.

But it’s not Lotor anymore – it’s Shiro, and he’s dying on her bayard, and she’s killed him, she’s killed him, she’s a murderer.

“How could you?” he asks. Purple blood streams out of his mouth and lands on her face, and the droplets start to spread, consuming and erasing everything in their path.

He’s disintegrating outwards from his chest, and screaming at her, and she’s screaming at herself. The blood on her face is dripping onto her hands, staining them red and purple, and her skin turns black and dead.

He glares at her as she begs for him to stay, and she tries to claw at his shoulders but her hands are nothing more than bone now, and she can’t move. Then she can’t speak.

She can only watch as he vanishes, only listen as he tells her how she’s fallen, how she’s a monster, how she has failed. 

Then she can’t hear, can’t feel, can’t…

“Pidge! Pidge! It’s just a dream!”

She lurches forward, gasping and coughing.

She’s in her bed, in someone’s arms. Arms that are rubbing up and down her back.

“It’s just a dream, Pidge,” Keith murmurs into her hair.

She bursts into tears at his voice, and he hugs her tight.

He’s alive. He’s here, done with his time in the healing pod, looking good as new. She doesn’t know how long she clings to his jacket, but he doesn’t complain.

“I… I was too late, and Lotor killed you,” she eventually chokes out, and he holds her tighter. “And… and then when I killed Lotor, it was actually Shiro.”

Saying it out loud brings on another burst of tears, and a third arm around her shoulders.

She whips around, at least as much as she can with Keith still squeezing her. The other three Paladins are in the room as well. Lance is next to her, his face the very portrait of brotherly concern, Hunk and Allura flanking him.

Right. Lance has sisters. He knows the sound of nightmare screams.

The smile on Allura’s lips is meant to be reassuring, but the concern creasing her brows ruins the effect and just makes her look bewildered. The waver in her voice doesn’t help either. “We came to let you know Keith was awake, but…”

The silence stretches into awkwardness, until Lance slides in behind her, all splayed limbs and smug smiles.

“We figured you’d get more use out of the handsomest pillow in the galaxy.”

Pidge giggles, despite herself, and Keith reaches past her to grab her pillow and whack Lance square in the face with it, finally smiling at his muffled “Hey!”

“Pidge,” Allura begins again, “will you be alright?”

Lance’s arms stretch out to her, his smile dropping from smug into sweet, and Pidge scoots up to him, letting him fold her in his embrace.

“I got you, Pidgita,” he purrs, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and it’s almost like having Matt here, and the tears well up again.

Keith snuggles up on her other side, and it’s almost like having Shiro there, and she finally cracks out, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Well, the beds weren’t designed to fit five Paladins, but…” Allura trails off, her tone all mischief. She and Hunk share a look before they both shrug and jump onto the bed anyway, to the immediate protests of the three under them. They crush their victims for a few ticks before Hunk peels off the pile and starts pushing the mess on the floor toward the walls.

“I’ll just go grab my mattress, then.”

It takes a few moments for his words to register, what with the distraction of Lance’s fingers combing her hair.

“Wait, really?”

He shrugs again, as if it’s obvious. “Well, yeah. I mean, you’re already settled in, and Allura and I won’t fit on your bed too.”

They take up their vigil on the floor, mattress framed by all Pidge’s tech clutter, and she wants to thank them all for being so supportive, but the words that exit her mouth are, “You know, Lance, you’d have much better luck with the ladies if you were sweet like this rather than trying to be suave.”

“See if I come comfort you next time you have a nightmare,” he says with an exaggerated pout, but pulls her closer anyway.

Objectively, the pile on her bed can’t be comfortable for anyone except maybe Keith, who is curled up with his head resting on her chest. But the security everyone seems to get from each other, judging by their contented sighs as they settle in to sleep, overrides any anticipated aches and pains.

******

Pidge drifts into consciousness somewhere in the late morning. Her room is still dim, and silent aside from the soft sighs Keith makes as he sleeps next to her. At some point, the others must have returned to their own rooms, or got up to go about their day.

Slowly, she eases out of bed, careful not to wake him, and pads over to her bathroom. Her eyes burn and her face feels sticky and gross and the rest of her body has that odd sweat funk, and nothing sounds as good as a nice, hot shower.

She had taken it for granted, when she first got here, that there were giant showers in all the rooms and they used regular hot water. Over time, after eating nothing but goo for weeks on end and drinking what smells like moldy hot dog water entirely too often, she’s gained a new appreciation for the fact that Alteans don’t clean themselves with dust baths or wash in undiluted ammonia or something else equally unappealing.

However, not even the spray of water feels that great right now, as it stings against the previous night’s dried tears and sears into the raw skin of her cheeks.

Pidge blinks rapidly, but rather than clearing away the old tears, she only succeeds in bringing on a wave of new ones. A high, keening wail tears itself from her throat, bringing with it some kind of directionless grief.

Sliding down the wall of the shower, she hugs her knees to her chest and gasps, trying in vain not to cry.

“Pidge?” Keith, his voice still a sleepy rasp, pokes his head past the bathroom door. “Are you okay?”

She tries to answer, but only manages an unintelligible series of screeches and cries, her throat simultaneously weak and tight. A moment later, Keith’s face makes its appearance at the edge of the sliding shower door. She tucks her arms and legs closer around her.

“Hey, can I come in?”

This time, Pidge does manage to croak out a word. “Yeah.”

He leans in, hissing when the water strikes his shirt. “Fuck, that stings. Ugh. Give me a second.”

Pidge nods, and watches mutely as he pulls his shirt and jeans off, movements stiff and slow, far from his usual fluid grace. Now he’s just as naked as she is, and her eyes track to the jagged red scar tracing a line from his right thigh to his right armpit.

Raising an eyebrow, Keith sits across from her, angling his body so none of the water sprays directly onto the new skin, pulling his left leg in to hide behind. “Like what you see?”

Her face flushes, and she’s sure it’s just as pink as his scar is red. “Does it hurt?” She reaches towards his waist, before catching herself, flushing even deeper and snapping her hand back to her lap. “Sorry. I mean, I know it can’t feel that great, even with the healing pods, and… sorry. I should have been quicker to stop him.”

Keith scoots closer, grabs her hand, and pulls it to his chest. Neither of them breathe as he drags her fingertips down the line, to his ribs and waist and pelvis and thigh. His skin is so soft, taut against the muscle underneath it, and her blush probably covers every inch of her body now.

“It’s a little raw, and aches like a bruise,” he suddenly answers, making her jump and twitch back. His lips quirk up into a smirk and he twines his hand with hers. “Thank you, Pidge.”

“It’s Katie,” she blurts out. His eyebrow arches again. Shit, she’s blushing even harder now. “My real name is Katie.”

“I gathered, but….”

Her mouth works faster than her brain, and every word makes her want to die of embarrassment. “I mean, we’re sitting here in the shower, completely naked. It doesn’t really make sense if you don’t know my real name.”

“Sure, Katie,” he answers, smiling. “I already knew.”

“Oh.”

They keep their eyes locked on each other’s face as much as possible, occasionally dropping their stare downward, until it’s too much for Pidge, and she uncurls and flings her arms and legs out.

“Look! Just look! Holy shit, just get it over with!”

His eyes go wide and jaw falls slack. He bypasses pink entirely, instantly flushing a deep red all the way down to his sternum, even while his gaze roves over every inch of her. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he looks away.

“Well?” she demands.

“You’re… very pretty, Pidge,” he murmurs, hunching his shoulders up.

She giggles, hating the sound, but she can’t fight the grin on her face. She pulls her limbs back, sitting in a normal cross-legged position, and rakes her wet hair away from her face. Keith is still red all over, hunching so far that his face is half hidden behind his left leg.

Pidge looks him up and down. “Your turn?”

“Nooo, no please.”

“You’ll have to stand up eventually, you know.”

He doesn’t respond, only pulling his legs closer and folding them in front of his – oh. Ohhhh.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Keith.”

He grumbles some garbled string of words she can’t quite pick up on over the sound of the shower.

“Besides,” she continues with a grin and a nod towards his crotch, “he’s got good taste.”

“Oh my god.” Keith draws his arms around his knees and hides his face entirely. His blush spreads to his elbows.

She sighs. “At least move over so I can take my shower.”

“I – you know, fine. Here, look.”

He stands, slowly, his right side stiff and tense, and holds his arms out, turning in a circle for her. 

He’s all muscle, lean and slim and dangerous. The defined V of the middle of his back is mirrored at the bottom of his abs. A small patch of fine hair trails down the middle of his chest, picking up again just below his navel and down to his crotch. The spray from the shower splashes off his shoulders and back as he stops and drops his arms, framing him with an ethereal mist. His hair is plastered to his face and neck, his mouth pressed into a line as he waits for her to speak.

Her eyes drift from head to toe and back.

He is gorgeous. How has she never noticed before now?

“Wow,” Pidge breathes, then immediately wants to smack herself for sounding like some dazed airhead – and feeling like one, too. She rises to her feet and sweeps his hair away from his forehead. “To answer your earlier question, yes, I like what I see.”

Keith half-gurgles, half-whines, hiding his face in his left hand, as his right goes to shield his groin. He and Pidge both let out nervous giggles. She slides by him, blushing so hard her head spins as her bare thigh brushes against his.

“Pidge!” he squeaks.

“Sorry, sorry. Here,” she grumbles, leaning out of the shower and grabbing an extra washcloth, “you can use my stuff.”

They retreat to opposite ends of the shower, facing away from each other, and hastily clean themselves.

“Hey Pidge? Can you get my shoulder? I can’t quite reach it.”

She turns back around, and before she can oblige, her eye catches on a series of small, puckered scars next to his left hipbone. Because curiosity has been known to override all her other senses, including common sense, she reaches out and brushes her fingers over them.

Keith freezes.

Slowly, his hand peels hers off of his hip. No other part of him moves.

He’s trembling.

“Keith?” Pidge lifts her eyes to his, only to be met with the most fearful expression she’s ever seen. “What happened?”

After a few deep breaths, he lets out a shuddering sigh and droops slightly, looking so ashamed that Pidge has to wonder if they’re self-inflicted. Or maybe he ran with a bad crowd, or –

“Cigarette burns from my foster mom, when she was drunk. My… fourth or fifth home, I think. The last home.”

Her mind short-circuits and her eyes jerk back to the scars. There are at least a dozen, some larger than others. She pulls her hand free from his and places her palm over the marred skin, holding steady even though he shivers and flinches away. She doesn’t miss his sharp gasp when she places her other hand on his right hip.

He’s so tightly wound, so rigid and scared, and she wracks her brain for the right words, coming up empty.

“There’s nothing I can say to make it better, is there,” she finally sighs.

Keith’s eyebrows raise slightly.

Pidge curls her fingers into his hips and mutters, “I suppose she’s lucky I’m not on Earth, because I might just kill her for hurting you.”

His eyebrows raise straight to his hairline.

“Shiro almost did.”

“What?”

“I mean, he didn’t, but he was so angry. He somehow got custody of me instead, even though he’s not an actual foster parent, and he was going to officially help emancipate me after he got back from Kerberos, but…”

She takes a step closer to him, and he draws her into a loose hug, as little of their bare skin touching as possible for it to still count as an embrace. 

He brushes his hand along her left shoulder. “What’s this?”

Pidge knows what exactly he’s looking at without having to ask for clarification, the circle of odd spots that aren’t freckles but dust her skin like them. “Bullies in middle school. They thought it would be funny to stick the nerd with a bunch of mechanical pencils.”

She feels rather than hears his growl.

Then Keith dips his head down and presses his mouth to those little scars and her brain short-circuits for an entirely new reason. Her hands grip his hips even tighter, keeping him in place as she twists forward to tuck her head against his collarbone. The breathy sigh that earns her, hot against her neck, sends a rush of adrenaline straight to her chest.

Which means it’s the perfect time for her door’s comm to buzz. They jolt apart as though zapped.

“Pidge, it’s Allura. I wanted to see if you and Keith are awake yet,” comes the muffled voice from her bedroom comm speaker.

She quickly holds a finger to her lips and Keith nods. “Redirect comms to bathroom,” she states, turning to face the shower door, and a speaker next to it chimes in response. “Hey Allura, I’m just showering. We’ll be out soon.”

“Oh! Sorry, Pidge. Take your time. Is Keith alright?”

“Will do, thanks. He’s doing well, just a bit stiff.”

Keith chokes behind her, and she has to stifle her own laughter as she realizes the other way that answer could be interpreted.

Fortunately, Allura is oblivious to Earth slang. “I should have figured. He had quite a bit of damage to the underlying muscles. Even with the sleeping pod, it’ll take some time for them to be back to normal. Well, when you’re done, we have some data from Lotor’s ship that needs analysis.”

“I’ll be right on it. See you in a bit.” She waits a moment, then, “Reset comms to bedroom.”

After a beat, Pidge half-turns and very, very openly checks out Keith. “Just a bit stiff.”

“Oh my god, Pidge,” he groans.

She bursts into laughter, nearly cackling, as she quickly scrubs his shoulder. “I’m going to go dry off your shirt, and you can take your time finishing up.”

“Take my… what?”

Her eyes flick down again. “Just make sure it all gets down the drain.”

“Pidge!” Keith yelps, flushing bright red again.

She just grins and steps out of the shower.

Ten minutes later, after his shirt has been wrapped up in a towel and wrung enough that it’s only barely damp, Keith emerges from the bathroom.

“You’re terrible,” he says, scowling at her, wearing only a towel around his waist. He slightly purses his lips as he studies her sweatshirt. “That’s getting a bit worn out.”

“And too small,” Pidge grouses. “But I don’t have anything else.”

She towels off her hair, then does the same to Keith, and they quickly get dressed.

The look on Lance’s face as he sees them both exit her room together, hair equally damp, is so priceless that Pidge can’t help but start giggling again.

Keith just curses under his breath.

“Aw, don’t worry Keith,” she purrs, “I promise to do my level best not to think of it during our next group memory exercise.”

“Pidge!”

He’s bright red again, and looking more embarrassed than he was in the shower, but a ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

She can’t even remember why she had been so upset.

*****

[blueplanettrash]

You’ll Miss Me When I Go (Companion Fic)

This is a companion story to @langsty-mc-langstface ‘s story “You’ll Miss Me When I Go” which is super sad. If you’re not familiar with it you should definitely go and read it, it’s super good! Also thanks to my amazing military sister, who I asked way too many questions about gas attacks, gas masks, decontamination, etc. So I hope everyone enjoys! ❤️

“See you tomorrow Lance,” his boss waved to him as he left the restaurant and started walking down the streets of his hometown. He had gotten the rest of the day off because they were running a bit slow. He was excited to get home and take a nap before he had to get up and help his mamá with dinner. He smiled as his house came into view and he ran the last of the distance to jump onto the deck and in through the door.

“Lance!” His siblings cheered as he walked through the living room. He laughed and dropped to his knee, scooping up his two youngest siblings, Caleb and Sophie.

“What are you doing home?” Marie, his older sister asked him, ruffling his hair.

“I got the rest of the day off,” he said dropping the two back on the ground so they could run off. He yawned and stretched his arms above his head.

“Where’s papá and Mark?” He asked looked around. Marie pointed to the open back door and he walked over to wave hello to them.

“Oh Lance, you’re home early,” his papá said with a smile.

“Yeah got off early, mamá around?” he asked.

“We’re not enough for you?” He asked with a laugh. Mark pouted slightly from his side.

“Of course not guys, you know I’m a mamá’s boy,” he said with a shrug.

“Yeah yeah,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I think she was in the garden,” Lance gave him a small smile and ran around the side of the house.

“Mamá!” he cheered running up to her and wrapping his arms around her stomach. She gasped but ran her fingers through his hair.

“Lance, you startled me,” she said with a laugh. “I thought you were going to be back later,”

“I got off early,” he said nuzzling his cheek into her stomach. “I’m going to go take a nap, will you wake me up to help make supper?”

“Of course, go rest up,” she said with a loving smile. He kissed her on the cheek and ran back towards the back door, waving to Mark and his papá as he passed by. He walked down to the hall and collapsed onto his bed, he winced as his back hit the floor slightly. He had given his bed frame to Caleb because he broke it, so his mattress was laying on the floor until they could buy another one. He closed his eyes, content to be at home instead of at the restaurant for the rest of the day. He could finally relax.

He woke up to screaming and loud choking coughs that echoes throughout the house. His eyes opened wide and he tried to sit up on the bed, only to realize that he couldn’t move. His muscles were tense and quivering with the effort to lift himself off of the bed. He had to get to his family, there was something wrong.

His eyes started welling up with tears as he started coughing loudly, choking on every breath that he brought in. He struggled to turn himself on to his side, tears were rolling down his face in rivers and snot began pouring out of his nose. He brought his hands up to his face, itching at his heated face and arms. Everything itched and burned, he wanted to crawl out of his own skin.

He was just barely able to hang his head over the mattress as his coughs became full bellied and he vomited on the floor beside him. His throat felt like it was on fire, along with his eyes. Every short gasp in brought a new wave of burning pain, his face was soaked with tears and mucus.

It felt like hours before he heard the door of the house slam open and several loud pairs of footsteps ran into the house. He didn’t know what to think, too stuck in his own misery. Until his own door opened up.

“We got a survivor!” The soldier called out of the door before rushing towards Lance. He crouched down beside Lance and pulled a package out of his pack and ripped it open. He cupped the back of his head and wiped his face and hair quickly, and covering his face with a gas mask. He secured the straps tightly, before lifting Lance up to sit. He limply laid against the soldier’s chest, his vision fading in and out.

“Okay buddy, I need you to breathe out for me, can you do that?” He asked, the mask only slightly muffling his voice. Lance just barely nodded his head and did as he was told.

“Now, deep breath in,” he instructed covering the filter hole with his hand in order to seal it. Clean air flooded into his stinging lungs and he clutched to the soldier’s uniform as he easily picked him up and started carrying him out of the house. He started struggling slightly as they passed the living room and kitchen.

His family.

They were strewn about on the floor, collapsed on the floor in puddles of their own blood, and vomit. His mamá’s hand was stretched out in the direction of his room as if she was trying to crawl towards him.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” the soldier said quietly, reaching up to cover the lenses of the mask, so Lance couldn’t see them anymore. He wanted to reach out to them again but was stopped by another sudden cough. He clawed at the soldier as his lungs suddenly felt like they were liquifying. The pain made him fall limp over the soldier’s arms even as his body trembled violently.

He could see the soldier’s worried eyes look down at him before snapping up and calling for help.

“Hang on kid,” was the last thing he heard before he slipped into darkness.

Lance woke up to a shrill beeping and his throat still burning. He peeled his eyes open and sluggishly looked around the room. He was in the hospital. A nurse walked in looking at her chart before glancing up. She gasped and immediately ran out again. She returned a moment later with a doctor in tow.

“Lance McClain?” She asked. Lance blinked and nodded slowly.

“Hi Lance, my name is Doctor Baker,” she said gently. “Do you remember what happened?”

He nodded immediately. How could he forget? He saw everyone he loved lying on the floor. Wait.

“My family,” he rasped. He clutched his throat in pain and looked up at the doctor.

“I’m very sorry Lance, you were the only survivor,” she said looking at him with sympathy. He blinked and looked down at the blanket over his knees. His whole family was gone? Just like that? He flinched when his hair fell past his face.

“What?” he grabbed it in his fingers, this was too long.

“How long have I been asleep?” He asked fearfully. She sighed and sat down in the chair beside his bed.

“You’ve been in a medically induced coma for about a month now, your brain sustained damage from the lack of oxygen and the gas that you inhaled, it allowed for your lungs to heal slightly as well,” she informed him. His mind was spinning with the new information.

“Gas?” he asked weakly. He rested his head in his hands.

“Last month several neighborhoods were attacked using different kinds of gases,”

A gas attack. That didn’t happen to people like him. It was a story that he saw on TV all the time. It was a part of history that he learned in school. It wasn’t supposed to happen to him, or anyone that he knew.

“So why do my lungs still feel like they’re burning?”

“I’m afraid that you’ve sustained permanent damage to your lungs, it’s actually surprising that you woke up from your coma,” she said bringing her clipboard up to look at it.

“I’m assuming that that means I don’t have very long to live,” he said staring up at the ceiling.

“Unfortunately not, at the rate that your lungs are deteriorating, I would give you to the end of the month,” she stated quietly. Lance couldn’t bring himself to be sad at the news. Everything he cared about was already gone, there was nothing left for him here. His mind flashed back to the attack, and he remembered the soldier that carried him out of the house. He was so careful even when his life was crashing around him.

“The soldier that brought me here, can I thank him?” He asked looking over at Dr. Baker again. She sighed and took his hand in hers.

“His name was Takashi Shirogane, his ship sank on his most recent mission and his body hasn’t been able to be recovered,”

Lance felt himself going numb again. Had he been cursed or something?

“I’m so sorry Lance,” Dr. Baker said drawing his attention back over to her.

“I’m fine,” he choked out, unwilling to acknowledge the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. He felt her wrap her arms around him, he felt small in her embrace. Like a child.

“There is a family that wants to foster you,” she announced. Lance didn���t pull away from her, already too tired from the events of the day.

“They live in America, but you would be able to get the best care possible from there,”

He only nodded in response, he didn’t know if he could stay here anyway. Moving away was probably in his best interest.

“Would you like to stay with them?” She asked pulling away to rub his arm. He nodded his head meekly, if he didn’t agree now, he probably never would.

“Alright, we’ll get the paperwork started right away,” she said standing up and starting out of the room.

“We’ll talk later, get some rest Lance,” he nodded and leaned back in his pillows. In the span of fifteen minutes he found out that his family was dead, his saviour was dead, and that he was currently dying. Everything crashed down at him at once, a broken sob escaped his mouth before he was letting out loud bawls and covering his face with his hands.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Why did God hate him so much?

He laid in his hospital room, crying his heart out until the early hours of the morning. The hospital staff’s hearts breaking at the young man’s cries of sorrow as they walked through the halls.

It was only a few days before Lance was loaded onto a hospital helicopter and flown to meet his new foster family. As he was wheeled to the entrance of the hospital, he couldn’t help the sense of fear that washed over his body. He heard of the horrors of some foster houses, and he hoped with all of his heart that this wasn’t one of them. But as they rolled closer he saw three people standing by the entrance, big balloons in their hands and large smiles on their faces.

“That's them kiddo,” Dr. Baker said, putting a hand on his shoulder. She had traveled with him, to make him more comfortable. They stopped in front of the family of three and never once did the smiles die down.

“Hey Lance, I’m Donovan, this is my wife Joni and my son Hunk,” he said gesturing to each member of the family.

“Thank you so much for letting us foster you,” Joni said with a big smile holding his hands in hers.

“I should be thanking you,” Lance countered. She shook her head with a fond smile.

“You don’t need to thank us for anything, Lance,” she said. A smile crept across his face and he shakily started to stand. At his slight struggle, both Donovan and Hunk gently grabbed an arm and held him steady. When he was stable he latched his arms around Dr. Baker with a small smile.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” he said. She rubbed her hand up and down his back with a sigh.

“It’s my job, Lance,” she reminded him with a chuckle. She pulled away and ruffled his hair.

“Remember to keep up with your appointments and email me from time to time please, I want to know how you are doing,”

He nodded and left the hospital. Joni’s hand on the small of his back keeping him steady and Donovan and Hunk telling him about what he could expect from living in the house. The pain in his lungs would always remind him of the day that he lost his family, and that his own day of reckoning was fast approaching. He would never forget the bitter pain of losing his family and the fact that he would never have one again; but perhaps with the Garretts, he would be able to find something like it. 

Part 1/2

Stories Masterlist

[kimjongdaely]

Taken [Chapter 2]

Mafia!AU

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Warnings: Language; may have triggering situations including sexual situations, abuse, violence, etc.

Summary: You were just a normal girl. You were just trying to get by. Until a rather unfortunate relationship brought you to the hands of Suho, the leader of the greatest mafia in the country.

Prologue│Chapter 1│Chapter 2│Chapter 3│Chapter 4│Chapter 5│ Chapter 6│Chapter 7│Chapter 8│Chapter 9│Chapter 10│ Chapter 11│Chapter 12│Chapter 13│Chapter 14│Chapter 15│ Chapter 16│Chapter 17│Chapter 18│Epilogue

“Heh, you’re cuter when you’re asleep.”

You jolt awake from the familiar voice to meet face to face with Suho. You immediately bring yourself back into an upright position, instinctively moving back from him, only to hit the wall.

He let’s out a laugh at your reaction. You scowl.

“I hope you slept well.” His eyes sparkle dangerously. “And thought over what I said.”

You swallow thickly at the thought, also kind of disappointed at yourself for somehow dozing off. If Suho was a little bit more malevolent, you probably wouldn’t be able to open your eyes ever again.

“Come on,” he says fatly as he pulls you up swiftly by the arm, making you wince at the pain. “I trust you’ll follow me like a good girl. Or should I throw you to the hungry dogs?”

His tone made you think that his reference to ‘dogs’ may not be the literal thing. Probably something worse.

You suck in a shaky breath and without any other option, you squeak quietly, “I’ll be good.”

Suho gives you an approving nod, motioning for you to follow him out the door. You obediently walk behind like some kind of dog and it infuriates you to no end. The more you walk, the more you try to come up with a plan to somehow kill him or at least knock him out so you can escape.

In the end, you follow him to the basement without a word.

You’re useless, you curse at yourself.

The basement is dark and covered in deep shadows. It feels as if eyes are boring into you and someone may pop out from any corner at any time.

You shiver as you try to walk quicker, and closer to Suho.

Screw it, it’s not like he’ll protect you if you’re attacked anyways.

He stops in front of a large metal door again with a keypad next to it. Going through the same motions as the first door, he blocks the numbers from your sight and types in the password.

The door creaks open to reveal several guards who greet Suho with the utmost respect, bowing deeply as he passes.

“There he is.” Suho tells you, his voice several octaves lower. You squint your eyes from the dark of the room, but eventually you see your boyfriend on the floor, covered in cuts and bruises, hints of dried blood littering the cold ground.

Your eyes widen into saucers upon the sight, and you eventually had to turn away. “What have you done to him?”

“What we had to.” Suho merely says. He grabs your arm and pushes you forward, almost making you lose your footing. “Now go and talk to him, hm? I’m sure you missed him.”

You walk into the dark room, watching the man who is tied up and writhing in pain on the floor. He’s fully conscious, though it seems like he wasn’t always awake in the hours he was kept here. He sees you and his face lights up immediately with hope. “Jagiya! You’re okay! Please, please save me.”

You look at the man you used to love. But that was a long, long time ago. You know there are eyes watching you everywhere.

You look quickly over your shoulder, meeting Suho’s expecting eyes. His grin grows wider upon seeing your conflicted ones.

You swallow thickly and try to focus on breathing. A headache is forming, dull and heavy. You close your eyes and try to concentrate before reopening them to stare at your hopeful boyfriend. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t come to save you. I’m breaking up with you.”

His eyes widen in horror and then morphs to anger. “You’re betraying me, bitch?”

You flinch at his harsh tone, but try to keep your composure. “You can say that. Goodbye…and good luck. You’ll need it in this place.”

You turn on your heels and head out as he screams infuriating curses at you.

You let out a shaky breath and the door slides closed behind you, feeling tears in your eyes.

“I’m impressed.” You lift your head at the familiar voice and Suho smiles at you casually. “I really thought you were going to help him.”

“I couldn’t.” Your lips tremble as you look down, your fists clenched by your side. “I’ve done so much for him already…he brought this upon himself. I can’t help him.”

“You’re cruel.” Suho’s smile becomes harder. “But if you want to survive in this cruel world, you need to be cruel too.”

“Suho—” You start, but he turns away from you and his smile turns eerie.

“Take her away.” He barks at the guards surrounding you. Two large men grab your arms, twisting them painfully behind your back so you couldn’t escape. You thrash in their hold, dread filling you. Not again. “Get her ‘seasoned’ tomorrow.” He makes his slow way towards you, his eyes darkening as he gazes at you with a grin. “In order to survive, I am cruel as well. Meeting me will be your worst nightmare.”

Your eyes widen with terror as the men start to forcefully drag you away. “No! Suho, please!” You know it’s futile as his form gets farther and farther from you.

You are thrown painfully onto the cold floor of a small room, shrieks and cries of other girls behind you. “Leaders’ order. You will stay here until tomorrow.”

The man bangs the door closed harshly, making you jump. You twisted your wrist and bruised your ankle from the force of the fall.

Your eyes adjust to the dark room and you see multiple beds lined up against the walls, about ten or twelve girls shivering as they try to hide themselves under the sheets. Upon knowing that it’s safe, they slowly crawl out of the covers and eye you sadly.

“Who are you?” You ask shakily as you try to stand up. One girl about your age comes up to you, holding out her hands as if wanting to touch you. You let her graze your cheek gently, her touch gentle and soothing.

“We’re like you.” She answers after inspecting you for a while, her hands gasping yours tightly. “We were taken here forcefully.”

“What’s going to happen to us?” You whisper.

The room falls into heavy silence.

“The devils will come.” One girl cries as she shakes on the bed, her body curled up tightly in a ball as her hands press flat against her ears. “The devils will come soon and they’ll take us! They’ll curse our fate with spells and we’ll be taken. We won’t…” She wails. “We won’t ever return.”

Her words puzzle you, but the other girls start wailing with her, violent sobs filling the room. The first girls’ grip on you tightens as tears stream down her cheeks as well, her shoulders shaking.

Then it hits you.

Everyone here, including you, are going to be sold as prostitutes.

That night as you lay with the girl that held your hand, you couldn’t sleep. It seems normal considering what will happen to you, and it seems like no one could sleep either.

“Sometimes,” the girls starts softly, knowing you’re restless, “those men come in at ungodly hours. They make us take off our clothes and stand in front of them. They inspect us like cattle, and when they think you will sell, they take you to another room to be ‘seasoned.’”

It isn’t the first time you heard that term. Curiously, you ask slowly, carefully, “What’s ‘seasoned?’”

She pauses for a moment, her body sliding closer to yours for comfort. You feel the slight shake in her muscles. “They ‘test the product.’ Girls that go in are broken beyond repair, tortured into submission. They lose themselves to the darkness.”

You shiver at the thought, fear plaguing your mind. That will be your fate tomorrow. You let yourself cry quietly, pathetically, as the girl soothes you, whispering calming things, but she doesn’t say you’ll be alright.

Because they all know no one gets out.

“Suho! How could you?” Chanyeol accuses as he follows the said man through the hallway. “Come on, that girl didn’t do anything wrong! And she helped us find one of our debtors!”

“I don’t want to hear this from an arsonist.” Suho snaps. “And if you want to complain, go to Kai. He’s the one in charge of these things.”

“He’s not going to listen to me.” Chanyeol continues. “Besides, I’m not the one who wants to save her.”

“What are you talking about?” Suho growls as he finally stops in his track. “Honestly, if you have so much time to talk to me about a stupid girl, why don’t you go back to work—”

Chanyeol looks at him with a lopsided grin. “Come on, you can’t lie to me. You haven’t been yourself since she was taken away. You want to save her.”

“I don’t save anyone unless they’re useful to me.” Suho snaps as he continues down the hall in a quick pace, Chanyeol easily follows with his long legs.

Then suddenly Suho stops and thinks for a moment. A grin breaks out. “But…maybe she is.”

You scream as men drag you out of the small room with all the other girls. They hug each other as they watch you with horror filled eyes, some of them sobbing quietly.

You try to grab onto the door frame as they pull you out to no avail. You flail your limbs, but they are held tightly by strong men and there’s no chance of you escaping. The room you were previously in gets farther and farther away as they bring you to a new room at the end of the hallway.

The room is dim, just like the one you were previously in. There was nothing but a large, dull bed in the middle.

You use all your remaining strength to struggle, but it’s still useless. You try to scream, but no one comes to your rescue. You are in the deepest depths of Hell.

The men throw you harshly onto the bed and they hover around the doorway, a sinister grin adorning each of their faces. You back away on the bed, scanning the room wildly for an escape route.

No windows. No vents. Not even a crack in the wall.

Nothing.

A man laughs as he pulls your arm, pinning down your wrists above your head. His breath is rotten and makes you want to vomit. His hips keep your legs immobile.

This is it, you think with despair, it’s all over now.

He leans in and licks a nasty, wet trail down your neck towards your chest. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you sob, desperately trying to call for help.

“Get the hell off of her.” A deep voice booms and the man above you flinches before quickly scurrying off you. You lay there pathetically, trying to catch your breath and blink away tears.

Without warning, you are pulled up by another man, but his hold on you is more protective, more careful.

“Leaders’ order.” The man says and no one questions him, instead opening up a path so the two of you could get out.

You were only able to catch a glimpse of your savior before he pulls you out forcefully just like everyone else.

“Leaders’ order?” You repeat as you try futilely to catch up, instead almost tripping over yourself. “What did he order?”

“For you to be brought to him.” The man makes turns sharply, making you almost fall. “Safely.”

“Why would he do that?” You ask with a pant. “After he just made me go through that?”

“Do I look like the leader to you?” He snaps as he increases his pace. “My job is just to execute his orders. I don’t ask questions.”

“Looks like blind faith to me.” You hiss. “Don’t be too surprised if he stabs you in the back one day.”

The man stops abruptly, making you bump into his back painfully. He turns around at an inhuman speed and pushes you harshly against the wall, pinning you there by the neck. His eyes flash angrily as he growls at you. “Don’t you dare say that about him. You know nothing, bitch.”

He lets go of you and you gasp for breath, coughing as a rush of new air enters your lungs.

He watches you for a few more moments, letting you catch your breath.

“Lets go.” He finally says flatly, grabbing your wrist again, but this time his pace is considerably slower.

He turns a few more corners before he brings you to an unfamiliar room.

He pushes the door open and, thankfully, allows you to enter on your own accord. You hold your breath as you enter the room, which is completely different than any other room you’ve seen so far.

It was extravagant, brightly lit and designed like a mix of a ballroom and a dance room. Another male is standing inside, leaning on one of the bar handles casually, a graceful smile on his face.

Both him and the one who saved you are extremely handsome men.

“That was quick, Kai.” The man in the room remarks as he saunters towards the two of you with his hands in his jean pockets carelessly. “Did you run?”

“No,” the man—Kai—answers with a hint of humor in his tone. “I just have longer legs than you, Chen.”

The said man chuckles at this before letting out a high-pitched whine about it not being true.

You look between the two men and wonder if you can somehow escape from the scene.

“That wouldn’t be smart, love.” Chen coos before pulling your wrist and making you crash right into his chest. His voice is strangely smooth like rich chocolate, making you melt. “You won’t be able to get out of here even if you make a run for it now. Plus, you’ll be safest with us.”

“Suho wants her properly taken care of.” Kai states, looking directly at Chen. “You know that, right?”

“Of course.” Chen looks taken aback. “Are you accusing me of not being able to take orders?”

“You know your reputation.” Kai sighs before he turns and begins to exit the room. “Just follow orders.”

“Of course.” Chen says again as Kai exits completely, closing the door behind him.

This man for some reason, seems different than the rest. Maybe he’s more agreeable.

“Do you know why you’re brought here, love?” He says sweetly and you shake your head, captivated by his bright eyes. “You’re going to learn proper etiquette. My job is to prepare you for every situation and train you as our weapon.”

“Wait, what?” You blurt as you take a step backwards. “Etiquette? This is utterly ridiculous. I am not—”

Chen grips your forearm painfully and immobilizes you. His previously fun and gentle smile morphs into that of menacing dominance.

“You don’t have a choice, love.” He says lowly, his eyes boring into yours. “You should’ve learned that the first second you stepped foot here.”

You gulp at his sudden change of attitude.

You take back everything you thought about this person.

Previous Chapter│Next Chapter

Taken Mini Masterlist

A/N: *pokes head out timidly* Hi guys, I’m super nervous about starting series and all and I have so many ideas right now so please tell me what you guys think about my stories so far! Your opinions really matter 😊

©kimjongdaely

Request and let’s love!

[ask-mystical-bangtan]

beware of dog.

((hello! admin nyx here, with our first story and first taste of backstory with a couple of the boys! i hope you all like it :3))

warnings: violence, blood, gore, dead bodies, etc.

length: 2, 678 words

Hobi had known this day would eventually come, and he had been dreading it the entire time. Of course Jungkook would eventually go through the typical stages of puberty – he was, after all, a good portion human. More than Hobi himself, at least.

The little wolf boy sat attentively in front of Hobi, his fluffy ears perked forward.

Hobi was momentarily lost for words. He knew how human puberty worked, as he had done extensive research on it when he had first realized this would someday happen, he just wasn’t sure where to start. Or what areas to avoid. He had already had a tamer variation of The Talk with Jungkook a few years back, but this was a bit different. Part of him hoped Jungkook could figure most of that part out by himself so Hobi didn’t have to get involved.

“Alright, well, Jungkook…you’ve probably noticed some…changes with your body, right?” he started hesitantly.

Jungkook nodded. One of his ears still flopped a bit when he moved too quickly.

“That’s normal, and it happens to everyone like you, so it’s nothing to worry about, okay?” Another nod. “Some things you could expect are…well, you’re going to get taller, probably very quickly. Your voice is going to change, and you’re probably going to start developing some hair on your face and…other areas…”

Jungkook cut him off.

“What about my teeth?”

“Your…what?” Hobi paused, confused. Jungkook had already lost all of his baby teeth, and as far as Hobi was aware, there was nothing wrong with his adult teeth.

“My teeth. They hurt. Why?”

“They hurt? Wait, open your mouth.”

Jungkook obeyed, tipping his head back and letting his bottom jaw go slack. Hobi leaned closer, peering at his teeth, and noticed something a bit unusual. His canines seemed…bigger than the last time Hobi had seen them, and most of teeth were starting to slant into pointed edges. Then, Hobi realized something.

Jungkook was a werewolf, not a human. There were some similarities, obviously, but things would be slightly different for Jungkook as his wolf side developed alongside his human side.

“Right. Okay, so I guess I didn’t think of this earlier, but since you’re a werewolf, other things are going to change as well.”

“Like what?” Jungkook really didn’t seemed fazed by this at all. All the research Hobi had done had indicated that most young teens hated having these talks. Jungkook was mostly just curious, and maybe a bit excited.

“Like, well, like your teeth. And probably your senses, and some other, more wolfish instincts might start to become more prominent.” Hobi hesitated. “But if anything unusual happens, I want you to come tell me, okay? In-in regards to the wolf thing, that is,” he quickly clarified. He really didn’t want to have that misunderstood and have Jungkook come running to him every single time he deemed something a bit weird.

Jungkook nodded vigorously.

As the werewolf ran off, Hobi felt a sort of pre-emptive tiredness drag at his body. This was going to be a long, complicated few years.

----

It had been nearly three years since Jungkook had noticed the first changes in his body, and it had only gone downhill from there.

The inside of his mouth was covered in scars and sores from his now much bigger teeth, and it had taken him a long time to adjust to his claws – or, more specifically, to picking things up with his claws and touching Hobi without cutting him. He was now also taller than Hobi by at least several inches, his shoulders were nearly twice the size of the pixie’s, and he was able to lift Hobi over his head. Hobi hadn’t been very happy about his adoptive baby brother being both bigger and stronger than him, but he had come to terms with it eventually.

Within the past couple months, Jungkook had started to notice some more unusual changes.

Sometimes when he woke in the morning, his back and legs ached, the feeling very similar to how he remembered the worst of his growing pains; his mood had gotten increasingly worse and with very violent mood swings; and Hobi had yelled at him a couple times for literally growling at the pixie, something Jungkook had never done before.

Today had been one of those times.

The first time it happened, Hobi had been much more forgiving, telling Jungkook that everyone had bad days and that was probably why he had snapped at Hobi. But the couple times it had happened after that, Hobi had been less than impressed. Jungkook wasn’t sure why he had done it – he couldn’t even remember making the conscious decision to do so. As a sort of punishment, Hobi had sent him out to the woods to gather firewood by himself. Snow had just started to fall, and they would need to stock up on a few things in the next couple weeks.

Jungkook paused in his gathering to rub at his knee. His bones were aching again.

He could hear voices coming from somewhere down the path that snaked through the woods. He looked up, his ears perking forward, and caught some tidbits of their conversation. From what he could hear, it was a couple young girls, out for an autumn jog.

Slowly, keeping his steps as quiet as possible, Jungkook slipped over to a fallen tree and ducked behind it.

It was rare that anyone came this way, but Hobi had told Jungkook since the first day he had lived in the cabin that no one should see them. So Jungkook stayed still and silent as the women grew nearer and their smell grew stronger.

That was weird.

Jungkook’s senses were heightened, naturally, but he had never been this bothered by someone’s scent before. Something about it was…irritating, almost. He could feel something rumbling in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if it was a growl or something much worse.

It wasn’t until the wood of the fallen tree splintered under his nails that Jungkook realized he was gripping it. He suddenly felt irrationally angry.

Something else welled up in his chest.

Something…primal.

He shook his head, trying to chase it off. It was just something about one of the girls’ perfume, he told himself. Once they were gone, it would go away too.

But it was just getting worse the closer they came.

He considered calling out for Hobi, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was some kind of low growl, and he could feel his upper lip curling, baring his huge teeth. He lowered his head, nails gouging into the wood of the tree, the fur on his tail bristling as he tried desperately to fight off whatever the hell was happening. Every muscle in his body was tightened, saliva gathering in the back of his mouth. He squirmed uncomfortably, feeling the dull ache spread from his back and legs to the rest of him. His whole body felt like it was throbbing.

When he heard the girls’ footsteps very near his hiding place, he had to fight off the sudden urge to leap at them.

Slowly, he lifted his head and peered at them over the log, sealing his mouth shut to stop his noises. As soon as he laid eyes on them, the world started trembling, and everything hazed red.

----

The instant Hobi heard the screams, he dropped the carrots he had been peeling for dinner – he had been trying, desperately, to get Jungkook to eat more vegetables – and ran out of the cabin, not bothering to grab a jacket.

He hadn’t been able to tell exactly where they had been coming from, but it sounded generally like the area near the trail. He made his way there as quickly as possible, worried for Jungkook but also wondering who the hell had screamed. Jungkook’s voice hadn’t gotten to that pitch in at least two months.

What he found when he got there made him want to cry, scream, vomit and run away all at once.

He knew it was Jungkook because of the tail. There was no mistaking the fluffy fur, the white tip. Everything else, though. Everything else was not Jungkook.

It was…some kind of monster.

It was huge, at least half the size of the trees around them, its claws nearly the length of Hobi’s forearm.

There was blood everywhere. What snow there was on the ground was red, drops of the dark liquid spattered on the trees and ground, little rivers of it making their way downhill, winding through the grass. One of the young women was still alive.

The other…well, Hobi could see her hand on the ground near his foot, and the slimy, fat worms of her intestines spilling out from a huge gash in her stomach a few yards away. Her head was half caved-in, one of her eyeballs popped right out and crushed on the ground, her mouth open in a perpetual scream of terror.

Hobi turned, and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground.

There was a noise – a roar, a growl, some kind of wild, vicious noise – and Hobi covered his mouth as he turned back, determined not to vomit again.

The other women screamed, but it was cut short.

She was dead.

Hobi said something then, but he wasn’t too sure what it was. It might have been Jungkook’s name, or maybe it was just a wordless sob. Either way, it got the beast’s attention. His huge head swung around, and Hobi felt his breath catch in his throat when he caught sight of his feral eyes, saw the way his pupil contracted when he saw Hobi. The woman’s body was in his mouth, one of her legs gone and half of her torso ripped up beyond recognition as a human being.

He started to advance toward Hobi, painfully slowly, and as he did he tightened his jaw, and Hobi sobbed when he heard the sickening crack of the woman’s bones under his teeth. Her body convulsed, blood bubbling up around her lips. He dropped her, and the last of her ribs snapped under his foot as he stepped over her.

Hobi backed up until he felt a tree at his back.

He was terrified, he couldn’t feel his hands. This wasn’t Jungkook, he kept telling himself. Jungkook wouldn’t do this. Jungkook wouldn’t kill someone.

But all of a sudden, with the beast’s face a few inches in front of his own, he wasn’t so sure. There was blood and saliva dripping from his mouth, strings of human flesh and clothes caught between his massive, jagged teeth. He was snarling, his ferocious eyes pinning Hobi to his spot. Hobi could feel himself shaking.

Jungkook’s mouth opened, and Hobi could smell the blood on his breath, could see it staining his teeth and pooling in the corners of his mouth. One of Jungkook’s massive hands slammed on the ground next to Hobi and he shrieked, flinching back. His hands were grasping at the tree behind him, and he swore he felt his bones tremble when Jungkook growled, the sound rumbling from the very back of his throat.

Hobi stared up at his baby brother, unable to look away, unable to stop the tears leaking from his eyes or the sobs wracking his body. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready to die.

“Jung-k…Jungkook….” His voice trembled, and it was barely loud enough for him to hear.

The monster snarled, and Hobi screamed when he felt white-hot pain shoot up his arm, Jungkook’s claws gouging into his flesh. He felt warm blood drip from his fingertips onto the ground, and he started bawling for real, unable to form words anymore.

He was so, so scared.

He slammed his eyes shut, cringing back into himself in preparation for what he knew was coming, but to his surprise, it never did.

“H…Hobi?”

Hobi’s eyes shot open.

Jungkook was staring at him with wide eyes. Jungkook. Not that thing, that monster. Jungkook.

Hobi sobbed and threw his arms around the boy’s shoulders, letting his weak knees give out. Jungkook’s hands hesitated, and Hobi could feel the werewolf’s body shaking, could hear his laboured breathing.

“What happened?” Jungkook’s voice broke. His big, warm hands settled on Hobi’s back. “Did I…did I do this?”

Hobi didn’t answer, choosing instead to bury his face against the cleft of Jungkook’s neck and tighten his hold on him. He didn’t want to say, didn’t want to blame Jungkook for this. It wasn’t his fault, really. He clearly hadn’t been in control.

“Hobi. Did I do this?” Jungkook’s voice and hands were both shaking as he grasped Hobi’s shoulders gently and drew him far enough away to see his face. The werewolf’s big blue eyes were scared, tears budding in their corners. His mouth trembled, blood still staining his cheeks and teeth and hands. “Please tell me,” he whispered. His eyes searched Hobi’s face. “Please.”

Slowly, Hobi nodded.

One of Jungkook’s hands left him to cover his mouth.

“Jungkook, no, this wasn’t your fault…”

Hobi saw the boy’s eyes flicker to the huge, raw wound on Hobi’s forearm.

“You weren’t in control, you didn’t do this!”

Jungkook drew away entirely, and turned to look behind him. He stared at the remnants of the two young women, and Hobi forced himself not to look, focusing instead on the way Jungkook’s ears fell and his tail drew between his knees. He said Jungkook’s name again, and set a hand on his shoulder, but Jungkook didn’t acknowledge him. After a second, the boy sunk into a crouch, his hands covering his face. His broad shoulders trembled, and Hobi felt awful.

“Jungkook…”

“Go back to the cabin.”

Jungkook’s voice cracked. Hobi went to touch him again, but the werewolf moved away.

“Please. Please just go.”

Hobi reluctantly did as he said, walking back to the cabin with his arm cradled against his chest. He only glanced back once, and felt his heart break when he saw Jungkook sitting there covered in blood and self-hatred.

----

Four hours later, Jungkook returned to the cabin. He had washed all the blood off himself, but it was clear everything else still stuck with him. Hobi was sitting on the floor near the fire, his arm cleaned and bandaged. It would heal quickly, given his magic blood, but had been a bad enough injury that it would need a few days.

Jungkook stood next to him for a moment, his head down, eyes covered in shadow from his brow.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Hobi smiled softly, reaching out to touch his knee gently.

“It’s okay, Kookie. It wasn’t your fault.”

Jungkook sat down next to him on his knees, hands clenched in fists around the fabric of his ripped pants. His bottom lip trembled as he glanced up at Hobi, eyes teary. His ears were low, hidden among his wild hair. Hobi lifted his hand and pet one of the boy’s fluffy ears, grinning.

“It’s okay.”

Jungkook leaned closer, pressing his head to Hobi’s chest. He was whining softly, though his shoulders seemed to relax a bit when he felt Hobi loop a hand around his head and stroke his ears. Hobi pressed a kiss to his head and murmured little reassurances against his hair, his eyes lidded.

After a moment, Jungkook pulled back and moved to lay on the floor, curling his body around Hobi and laying his head near the pixie’s hand. Hobi smiled widely and gently pet his head.

Jungkook whined again, and Hobi realized he was looking at the bandages on his arm, and shook his head a little.

“I’ll be fine. It’ll heal in a couple days, you’ll see,” he said as happily as he could, flicking Jungkook’s nose. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but eventually seemed satisfied with this and laid his head down again. His fluffy tail rested over Hobi’s legs, and Hobi felt completely surrounded by the werewolf, and, surprisingly, the safest he’d ever felt.