#if any one is interested in our au ill consider explaining it

[the-maximist-drawer]

Foot Leonardo!

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XII

Part I - - - - - - Part II - - - - - - - - - - - -  Part X - - - - - - Part XI

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

“We cannot delay much longer” Master Ki-Adi-Mundi said gravely. “Rumors are spreading like wildfire throughout the temple, and Master Kenobi’s absence is not going unnoticed among the troops.”

Master Fisto sighed and his hologram rippled. “As much as I dislike deliberate falsehoods, I think it might be best for morale if we keep- the truth, as we understand, under wraps as much as possible. Young Ashoka is deeply shaken. I myself...” the Nautolan sighed again, running a hand through his tendrils anxiously.

“Not to mention the fact that Master Kenobi might have a valid reason for mistrusting the Chancellor so strongly” Master Gallia added darkly. “Of course I’m not saying we should charge him with anything based on Kenobi’s scattered words alone, but given the chance that this was proceeded by some hypernaturally prescient event, some form of precaution seems warranted.”

Yoda hummed in reply, looking weary. “Fallen ill, Obi-Wan has, tell the Chancellor and the Admiralty, we shall. Incapable of visitors. Still unknown to us, the cause is. Overwork, we suspect. Truth, it may be?” he finished, turning to Master Windu.

Mace leaned back. “I’ve shared everything relevant. We still don’t know anything with absolute certainty. It is my hope that the healers will call upon our more powerful telepaths for assistance later today, should their other efforts continue to prove unsuccessful.” he added with a glance at Master Koon.

"In the mean time,” Master Tiin interjected. “We must discuss the situation in the Expansion Region! As much as we had hoped to delay the Unumbran until Master Kenobi was capable of leading the 212th-”

“That is no longer plausible, if ever it was.” Plo-Koon interrupted softly.

“You may be best suited for the task, Master Tiin” Windu offered. “Your 407th was intended to accompany the 212th, in any case.”

Saesee Tiin reared back, alarmed. “I’m honored, but as I’ve already explained to the council, my skills as a pilot and Shocktroop leader are best utilized at a lower command level. I’m certain there’s a better suited replacement for Kenobi, at least for the short term. What about Skywalker? He is Kenobi’s protegee, and more familiar with working directly with the 212th.”

“You are a veteran with considerable more experience than young Skywalker. You would truly trust his judgement over your own?” Shaak Tii asked skeptically.

“As a General? Absolutely. I’ve seen what he’s capable of.” Master Tiin confirmed.

Koon pushed back, disapproving. “Regardless of his skill, I don’t believe he is in the best mindset for such a task at the moment.”

“Will he be held back from the front entirely?” Master Koth asked, frowning. “That would mean reworking our forces considerably.”

Before Mace was forced to add his own concerns about Anakin’s role in the war, they were interrupted by a priority message from the Chancellor’s office.

Exchanging looks, the assembled council straightened in their seats, nodding one by one at Master Windu, who finally accepted the incoming call.

A full scale live holo of Chancellor Palpatine opened at the front of the room.

“Ah, I see the full council is here. I thank you humbly for accepting my call so quickly.” He said to the room with a smooth bow of the head.

Exchanging a glance with Mace, Master Yoda answered, “Of course, Chancellor. Serve the senate, we do. Help you how, can we?”

A troubled expression crossed Palpatine’s expression. “I recently heard the most terrible rumor about poor General Kenobi. I was hoping the Council could clear up the truth of the matter.”

“Hmm. Dangerous things, rumors are. Careful with them, you are wise to be.” Yoda said. Everyone in the room expertly stifled a smile at Yoda’s unrivaled skill at vague topic evasion.

The Chancellor was far too practiced a politician to allow irritation to cross his expression. “Thank you for that wisdom Master Yoda. Now what exactly is the condition of the High General of the Third System Army?”

Yoda’s ears drooped. “Plagued by sickness, Master Kenobi is. Unable to wake him, our best healers are.”

Palpatine gasped. “How horrid! Surely this must be some insidious Separatist plot! What else could have felled such a powerful Jedi.”

“Immune to illness, Not even the Jedi are. Still investigating the cause, are we. Discussing who should care for his troops, when you called, we were.”

“Oh, how dreadful, that we are forced to discuss such mundanities as troop movements when a good friend’s life might hang in the balance! Please, if there’s anything I or the Senate can do to help, you have my personal support in accessing the finest healers.”

“Very kind of you, that is. But well cared for, Master Kenobi is. Will help, a rest from the stress of war, we hope. Do our best to keep the news contained, we shall. Risk inspiring fear in the public, we do not wish.”

“Indeed! That is very wise thing to fear. Do not worry, I will ensure that any security leaks are taken care myself if need be.”

Master Windu finally spoke, tone and posture absolutely neutral. “Thank you, Chancellor. If there’s nothing else, we will return to planning our strategy during Master Kenobi’s unfortunate but necessary leave of absence from the front.” 

“Of course! When you are finished, would you be so kind as to send General Skywalker to brief me on what you decide?”

“That won’t be necessary, Chancellor. I’m more than happy to come in person to brief you myself” Windu replied in the same placid voice. 

“Oh, I’m certain that as Master of the Order you have more important tasks to do than talk to an old man such as myself! And as you know, I consider Anakin a friend of mine. It will do me good to check in on him myself, I’m sure you understand.”

“As you have so kindly reminded us in the past, nothing outweighs a Jedi’s duty to the Senate of the Republic. As Master of the Order, I consider discussing the matter with you a top priority. And as for Skywalker- your concern is of course appreciated. I’m sure, given your friendship, you will respect our decision to give the young man some time off from council obligations to meditate over his concern for his friend and former Master. We would be happy to pass on an informal invitation to meet with you, if you wish.”

Palpatine was silent for a moment. “How...very kind of you to respect their close bond with one another. Yes, please do pass on my personal invitation of support to Anakin. And my offer of non-Jedi medical consultation.”

“I will do so as soon as our meeting has finished. Thank you again Chancellor.”

Palpatine nodded briefly then closed the connection, hologram winking out of existence.

“Unaware, I was, a leave of absence from his duties, we were giving Knight Skywalker.” Yoda said with a raised brow.

“The full matter will need to wait until Master Kenobi wakes, but for now, trust me when I say that we should at least discuss possible replacement leadership for both the 212th and the 501st.”

The council grumbled at that, but Mace quelled any arguments with a severe look. 

“Very well.” Shaak Tii relented, pulling up a datapad. “Jedi Masters currently without troops to command include several shadows that we could hypothetically pull from their duties, as well as Master Krell after the tragic loss of his last division...”

---

“My Lord! This is an unexpected honor! How may I-”

“Save your simpering, Tyrannus.” The hooded figure hissed. “It appears we have a new player in the game.”

“To whom are you referring, my lord?” Dooku responded, thinking quickly. Of course both Sith were constantly instigating power plays amongst the Republic and Seperatist leadership, but nothing dramatic came to mean.”  

“You mean to tell me you don’t know?” Sideous replied with a wicked smirk. “How disappointing. I had thought your spy network better than that, particularly when it comes to your favorite lineage member.”

Dooku paused. “I was aware that Kenobi had missed the most recent major mixed war briefing. Do you mean to tell me he has begun to move against you, my lord?”

“My, my. Your sources truly are failing you, Darth Tyrannus. Quite the opposite is true. It appears that someone has managed to land a blow where our combined efforts had previously proven fruitless.”

“A blow against Kenobi? On Coruscant? That is...an interesting development” 

“Indeed. Find out everything you can. Whoever has succeeded has done so in such a manner as to utterly rattle the High Council. I’ve never seen them so deliciously shaken.”

“I see. And what of your favorite of my lineage? I assume you are managing to use the situation against him gracefully as ever.”

Palpatine’s smirk fell into twisted snarl. “The boy is despondent of course. My lack of warning means that I was unable to position myself advantageously in advance. And now he is refusing to answer messages, while the council has chosen to give him time off. Bah. Of all the times to attend to their Chosen one’s emotional wellbeing...”

Dooku drew himself up, expression betraying nothing. “Forgive me my lord, but any information you can provide me would help in my search to find our ‘new player’ as it were. I have never known the council to be so...soft with a knight when his former Master was simply in sickbay. Do you mean to tell me that Obi-Wan Kenobi has passed into the force?” His tone, haughtily impassive throughout the conversation, grew a touch disbelieving at the very end.

“My sources tell me he is ‘unwakeable’ but given the boy’s anger and grief, not to mention the fact that his force signature is practically non-existent... I suspect his condition may very well be critical. Find out the rest.  Do not fail me again, Tyrannus.”

The connection cutoff abruptly, leaving Dooku alone in the dimly lit room. He strode out, sealing the private chamber behind him and calling out. 

“Ventress! Attend me at once- I have an urgent assignment for you...”

Part XIII

[fanfiction-artist-prototype]

Blood Mistakes AU!

Since I’m already on a hit list for some uncompleted works I’m going to put this AU here instead of discord so hopefully the assassins take longer to catch me. Also if anybody wants to ask me about this AU I’m happy to chat about it.

Basic premise :

- Inko is a quirk researcher, she was top of her class at the top university in the country and despite everyone thinking it’s a waste of time for ‘someone like her’ she decides to go not into the improvement of quirks but rather researching how quirks have effected the human body post quirk.

She wants to know what physiological differences there are, what biological components might have changed because of the sudden evolution ect, rather than studying how quirks will change in the future.

- Because it’s an incredibly niche area of research and requires SO MUCH funding the people involved snap people up for jobs incredibly quickly. If it was any other field you’d be suspicious! (That’s something to hold on to)

She wants to research as much as she can though, because quirklessness is becoming a thing of the past and really she’s 200 years late to the party and time is only ticking onwards!

- Given the nature of the subject she ends up working under Dr.Garaki. And in the beginning nothing is amiss, a surprising feat for All For One’s doctor, and Inko enjoys her work; learning about how the quirked body is actually stronger in some areas as a baseline than the pre-quirked body is so interesting!

But then she starts to learn about some... adverse effects on the human body due to quirks; like the fact that studies have shown that the quirked brain is over prone to stress and that some cognitive skills take longer to master than they used to. For example in the quirked world you don’t hear of young children being at university level work anymore. And then she learns about how the human body’s genetic code is wrong after quirks. 

It doesn’t make sense anymore,, there’s no way to make sense of how there’s different classification of quirks and there’s so little to explain MUTATION quirks or even how animals are developing quirks.

And then when she’s realising how little quirks make sense and how almost... parasitical quirks are she begins to notice that not everything is as it seems.

- For one where’s all this data coming from? She hadn’t questioned anything at the time but some of the data? Looking back on it’s really sketchy; everything they know about the manifestation of quirks simply doesn’t apply to half of the cases- there were never any recorded cases of people developing their quirks at 30 or above and it makes even less sense how they’ve got most of the data any way! Everybody knows that the Japanese Government lost a majority of the pre-quirk files in a cyber attack by an anti-quirkless group (who didn’t take kindly to the ‘tainting of our countries records with that filth’) at least fifty years before she was born! But she’s never even seen ANY of the files she’s working from and considering she had to trawl the deep recesses of the internet and try and access defunct websites just to get information for her dissertation where she referenced over two hundred different records it’s not NORMAL.

The she realises what’s all this research going towards? Their lab nor their company have released anything in regards to the research and they haven’t been told what it’s even FOR.

- Eventually because she’s too curious for her own good and goes looking she finds out about the Nomu project, which is seeing how multiple quirks effect the quirked body. It doesn’t explain how the project will get it’s results or what it will be for, it doesn’t even say where they’re getting participants but everything just seems WRONG. The project is desperately searching for a quirkless participant. They want to see if the pre quirk body is the same as the quirkless body or if it’s different. Her name is listed on the possible researcher transfers list.

She feels ill. A large percentage of her family is quirkless, she’s the only one in this generation to HAVE a quirk, both her brothers are quirkless and so is her Father. Inko can’t help but feel that it wasn’t her work that got her here.

- She catches the attention of another competitor researcher not soon after, they meet at a conference that she only went to because Dr. Garaki would be there and if she didn’t turn up the boss would know something is up and she can’t let that happen. She CAN’T. 

Inko knows she has to be careful, she’s already on edge because of what the implications of project Nomu could bring, but she’s in her early twenties and this other researcher is nice, and he starts their interaction by saying how her dissertation on quirk studies was what helped him write HIS dissertation! She can at least humour him...

But it isn’t just humouring him after awhile. They keep in touch after the conference. She goes on a few dates and in what seems like no time at all she’s engaged and has a baby on the way!

- It’s the day after she finds out she’s pregnant that she’s put onto the Nomu project.

She throws up within minutes of being in the facility; her co-worker tells her she’ll have to get used to it. She’s here now, and the only way off the project is death. And well, she’s got a baby on the way and a fiance to keep in the dark secrecy will be all she has at her disposal.

- Izuku’s second birthday party is cut short when she’s told she MUST come into work because the Doctor wants to speed up the Nomu’s tests.

The Nomu known as Kurogiri shares a birthday with her son, and she has to ask Hisashi and Mitsuki to plan future parties because she’s never able to treat the day the same way.

- When her son turns four he’s diagnosed quirkless by someone she can say hand on heart *is* Dr.Garaki even if he’s using some stupid mirage quirk and using a different name she KNOWS.

That night when her son asks if she can be a hero she cries and tells him she’s sorry. She’s sorry because he’ll probably never get the chance to, he’ll probably be some body in a case that she has to experiment on because she’s managed to hide her family away from work but she won’t be able to hide Izuku. Everyone knows about her son. Someone will ask.

- Hisashi comes home that night and he already knows Izuku is quirkless and that’s when the blinkers come off on the relationship and she realises how WRONG it all is, how he managed to get so close to her and so engrained into her life when it’s all so clearly a façade she doesn’t know. But she digs and digs that night because Hisashi has to go on a ‘business trip’ that she’s fairly sure Izuku will be gone by the end of and hunts for what information she can find.

- She eventually stumbles upon All For One and the pieces just fall into place.

- Two days later she phones an old University friend who she’d kept in contact  with who worked as a police-mortuary correspondent but had never called in the massive favour they owed her. She asks them to help her fake Izuku’s death. They have a phoenix quirk, except it’s listed as a simple resistance quirk.

They’re appalled at her until she explains that her son’s in danger and she knows how to get him out of it but for that she NEEDS people to think Izuku is dead.

Two days after that Izuku is dropped off at All Might’s Tokyo tower with a stack of folders in his favourite rucksack all detailing information about All For One and his research facilities with the hope that the number one hero will understand from her letter WHY she’s doing this and a couple hours after that the news are reporting of a devastating car crash that has killed four year old Midoriya Izuku after someone with a grudge against the driver planted a car bomb; it was only due to the drivers quirk that they survived.

Nobody ever finds out it isn’t the real Midoriya’s body, mostly because there isn’t much of a body to recover besides a burnt scrap of his favourite All Might hoodie and a single clump of hair that is incinerated after being used to identify the body, though aside from the main coroner nobody even knows that that much survived. The friend makes sure of it.

- Hisashi doesn’t come back after that, only turning up for the funeral and to give her documents to divorce her stating that he can’t be in the relationship anymore because all it is is a reminder of the son they’ve lost. Inko is glad; if he wasn’t who she thought he was she’d find a way to get rid of him herself so All For One removing himself from the picture once his perfect subject is ‘dead’ works for her.

- Inko is about to try and pull off all the favours she’s amassed over the years to fake her own death when she’s removed from the Nomu project and placed as Shimura Tenko - now Shigaraki Tomura’s ward and his Nomu Kurogiri’s handler.

She thinks it’s intentional, after all she’s a griveing mother so of course she’d want to look after a child only a few years older than her own. Ten year old Shigaraki is already twisted and spiteful and takes cheap shots at her by saying she’s only there because her own son died - and that it only happened because he wanted to be a hero.

If her son wasn’t alive she’d probably have tried to do something to herself by that point. But she perceivers and eventually Shigaraki warms up to her. She is forced to raise the next symbol of evil and the back up vessel of All For One for the next eleven years.

She despises every second of it.

And she hates herself even more for growing to actually care for the boy who is supposed to be a cruel reminder of the son she’s ‘lost’.

- Izuku grows up for the next eleven years hidden away from most of the world, hopping from All Might’s side, to Sir Nighteye’s, to Gran Torino, to I-island and to everywhere in between, he’s All For One’s son - supposedly. And the mother is apparently an unwitting accomplice to some of AFO’s worst experiments but she has done everything she can to try and save her son so they’ve got to try and at least help. 

Nighteye doesn’t like it at first, because how do they not know that this isn’t some elaborate long con? But after he uses his quirk on the boy and sees him get almost seriously injure himself trying to ‘help’ him later in the day he decides that perhaps it is just an innocent child caught up in a hellish situation.

- For those eleven years though, Izuku can only think about the mother he can hardly remember as a hero. Even if some of the people who look after him don’t agree with him. Yes she works for someone horrible and evil but she SAVED him and she’s SAVED others by giving All Might that information she told him to hand over!

He can’t think of his mother as anything less than a hero, and he wants to be the best hero he could possibly be, even if that’s as a pro hero and not a scientist. He’s not really allowed to pursue science though because all the adults for some reason think he’ll do something bad if he does.

For that he hides his quirk analysis books because he doesn’t think they’d appreciate them if they found out.

- A few weeks before Izuku turns nine a purple portal drops off another folder, this time detailing where All For One’s base is and even more information on his business’ and other secret projects. All Might uses this to have his first official confrontation with All For One.

He hopes to be able to save young Izuku’s mother and return her to her son, but she’s long gone or perhaps was never there in the first place when he turns up. And he doesn’t mention her and simply says that he’s had his eye out for years when All For One asks how he finds him.

(Inko uses a special set of code words to get Kurogiri to do what she needs him to do without actually remembering doing it at all)

- Years pass and All Might decides that Izuku would be a good successor for One For All, there’s a little bit of an objection but the kids proven himself safe and really the whole point of a OFA successor is someone you believe will be able to pass on the strength and compassion of a true hero and Izuku has that in droves!

Besides, All For One is dead so choosing his son doesn’t feel as... wrong.

- The rest of the AU continues on from UA, where we have Aizawa who can tell something isn’t right with Sasaki Izuku but can’t quite tell *what*, Bakugou being slightly traumatised by the death of his friend in childhood only for his auntie to mysteriously disappear a little while after and is sure he’s hallucinating a grown up Midoriya Izuku and a Shigaraki Tomura who knows of the little brother he was supposed to have and is convinced he meets him at the USJ.

[phoenixyfriend]

The IzuTobi Prequel

Prequel to this post, which I’ve taken to calling the “Red Eyes = Spouse Material” AU.

WARNING: contains a reference to worries/fears of sexual coercion.

Like, okay, they did not know that Tobirama had red eyes at first. They weren't close enough on the river for Izuna to see, since he didn't have Sharingan yet, while Tajima and Madara were looking at their respective opponents, not Tobirama.

Then, once they were in their early teens, and Izuna already had his Sharingan, they met on the battlefield for the first time, and Izuna saw Tobirama's eyes. Sure, Tobirama wouldn't meet his gaze, but Izuna could still see him.

And Izuna, as is only natural, went to Madara to ask 'hey uhhhhhhhhh one of our enemies is actually Amaterasu-blessed, what do.'

And Madara's just like '!!!!!' because hey actually this is great news everybody knows that the first step upon meeting an unmarried stranger with red eyes is to figure out who the best person to court them is, they can get a marriage alliance out of this to end the bloodshed and child death! Even the Elders can't argue against having a clan marriage to an Amaterasu-blessed indivi--

They object.

Well, Tajima objects.

Madara and Izuna bring the issue to him, both pretty excited about doing the whole "arranged engagement in the early teens, actual marriage at twenty or so" thing as a way to stop killing kids but Nope! For a variety of reasons, most of which boil down on Tajima's side to "the Senju have killed three of my children, I have no interest in taking in one of their own," the plan is shot down.

Madara and Izuna are naturally devastated but keep an eye out for like. A chance. To slip the info to Tobirama or Hashirama so they're at least aware of the possibility for when Tajima dies, in case Butsuma is more open to it?

I can't decide if they actually manage to set up a Secret Meeting prior to their dads' deaths, but I'm leaning towards 'no.'

(In this plot, Izuna is still wary of the Senju, but much more open to the idea of peace on account of Auspicious Omens Are Here.)

Anyway, Tajima dies first, I think, and Madara's first act as Clan Head is to send Hashirama a request by hawk for a private meeting. Hashirama is still only heir, not Clan Head, but Butsuma is ill (infected wound, I think), so Hashirama has the option of accepting this.

They meet, and Madara explains that he can sway most of the clan into an alliance--not just an armistice, but an actual alliance, possibly even establish that village they talked about as kids--if they can marry Tobirama into the Uchiha.

"Does it have to be Tobirama?" Hashirama asks, because he's not the best brother, but he's good enough to know that Tobirama hates the idea of getting married.

"Yes," Madara says, and then explains that it's all in the eyes, that this is a deeply spiritual thing to the clan and while some of the more militant elders may object, most of the clan will take the red eyes as a sign that this is intended to happen.

And Hashirama is quiet, and then asks if a marriage would require Tobirama to sire any children.

"We're not going to try to steal a kekkei genkai."

"That's not it."

"...wait, does he prefer men? We can--we can make that happen. If it's... hell, in that case it might work better, he could marry me or Izuna, direct connection to the main house, skip the issue of heirs and--"

"No, that's not... not it. But it makes me feel better to know that. I'll have to run it past him."

Tobirama is VERY ace and Hashirama had strict plans to respect that so he's trying to feel out if consummation would be required, or if a kiss for the wedding and then cohabitation would be enough.

Internal logic is "I want peace but not at the expense of handing my brother over for coerced marital rape where he thinks he can't say no without restarting the war."

He manages to get the agreement that the Uchiha weren't looking to pressure Tobirama into any sex-related things, though Madara still thinks it's a matter of Bloodline Protection and that Hashirama is worried about, like, someone trying to steal surplus semen or something.

Hashirama goes home and outlines it to Tobirama, who is very ??? about the whole thing but willing to at least consider it after Hashirama explains the basic requirements and how he confirmed that sexual relations aren't necessary. Hashirama floats it past Butsuma as a Theoretical Exercise, and is shot down.

So, Hashirama sends Madara a letter to the effect of "Our esteemed Clan Head says no, but we'll keep it in mind [insert veiled implication that Butsuma's dying anyway here]."

Madara and Hashirama have always kinda held back against each other, but now Tobirama and Izuna are also holding back the teensiest bit, just enough that nobody can be sure (and tell Butsuma or and Elder about it).

Well, Touka notices, but her first resort is "ask Tobirama to his face" and second resort is "bother Hashirama about it" so she gets the rundown on how Madara and Izuna are angling to get a political marriage with Tobirama since his eyes are Apparently a spiritual matter to the Uchiha as a whole.

Obviously, Butsuma dies, and Hashirama then immediately sends Madara a letter like "HEY so I'm Clan Head now, here's a nice inn located in neutral territory, bring your brother and an advisor, I'll do the same, let's hammer out a contract ASAP."

So it's Hashirama, Tobirama, and Touka on one side, Madara, Izuna, and Hikaku on the other.

Tobirama explains that he refuses to engage in sexual relations with anyone he marries (internally he's thinking that he might eventually take interest if he gets comfortable enough, but overall the entire concept is a little disgusting to him, and he doesn't want anyone to think they can convince him to do it, so he takes a hardline stance during the marriage contract negotiation process), but is open to his marriage partner engaging in an extramarital affair for a period of time in order to secure an heir.

"I promise we're not trying to steal your--" "Madara. Look at me. I do not like sex, and have never had any intention to engage in the activity with anyone, Uchiha or Senju or any clan at all. I had no plans for marriage, ever. The only reason I am opening myself to this one is because I value the opportunity for peace." "...oh."

So, you know, that's out in the open now, but it actually makes it easier to negotiate because they now know why he's uncomfortable with the idea of marriage, so other things (like the cohabitation and dowry and whatnot) can be discussed without people getting resentful about the other party not trusting them with genetic material. Hashirama and Madara get really excited about the whole village idea again, in part because Hashirama wants his brother to be able to visit Really Easily.

At one point they ask Tobirama who he wants to marry, if there's anyone he's interested in? Male or female? What ages is he comfortable with? Main line would be most politically expedient, but--

And he's just like "I know Izuna best, as my rival, and I've taken note of enough recently to know he's not a terrible person, at least as far as any shinobi can be 'good.' If Izuna is open to it, then I would like to discuss what cohabitation would look like between us. Should our expectations of daily life line up well enough, then I imagine that would be optimal."

Izuna's torn, because Amaterasu-blessed, but also he'd kind of been hoping for a Real Marriage with Affection and Children. Touka loudly suggests they take a recess and let Tobirama and Izuna talk in private for a bit.

Izuna manages to get across his personal worries, and Tobirama laughs and says that he actually loves children and was planning to take on plenty of students. "If you don't like the option of the extramarital affair for a child, we could always adopt. As for affection... I've been told I cling like an eel in my sleep, if that suggests anything."

"So if I grew enough feelings that I wanted, like... a good morning kiss or something..." "Quite frankly, my feelings on kissing in general are pretty neutral. It's a little strange, but I could engage with it, once a rapport is built. Heavy petting is distasteful, however, and anything past that..."

And Izuna listens to all that like "Oh. Okay, I will be able to Acquire Cuddles."

Then they discuss the whole 'what do we anticipate out of cohabitation' thing, like pets and cleanliness standards and what spare rooms are for and what goes on in the basement and allergies. It matches up... not perfectly, really, but close enough that they can make it work. They shake hands like the nerds they are and call their families back in and say they've decided it'll work so let's get that paperwork drawn up and start planning a wedding.

Aaaaaaaaaaand then Zetsu kills Izuna and convinces Madara that it was Tobirama's fault so he loses the plot (or, well, finds the canon plot, really).

I'm happy to imagine Tobirama and Izuna on a couch in their house, Izuna halfway asleep and leaning his head on Tobirama's shoulder, while Tobirama's got on a pair of glasses and is reading a book.

Just. Really domestic.

Cutesy.

IDK I feel like they just end up as pleasant roommates who don't necessarily ignore each other, but are well aware of the fact that they entered into this arrangement with non-romance expectations, and they're both okay with that.

They take dinner together, talk shop, try to engage with each other's hobbies, go to events as each other's default plus-one...

It’s Nice

[jamaisjoons]

faded love | pjm

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 he doesn’t need to say it. because you can feel your husband, park jimin, falling out of love with you. 〞married couple au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: jimin x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst (rip sorry) ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 16k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: couples therapy (is that a warning?), cheating/infidelity, some swearing, soft mushy smut, oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, creampie, lots of kissing, this is just v soft mushy sex, like super light softcore romantic porn

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: W H A T I S U P D E M O N S! I’m back with another instalment of the mixtape series, i sincerely hope you all enjoy it!! almost everything is read through and edited except the smut because like,,, its 4am and the sun is coming up and i’m ill and tired

⇥ part of the mixtape series

⏤ unedited

The signs were there.

Your relationship with your husband, Park Jimin, was slowly fading; slowly dwindling into nothingness. You don’t really recall exactly why you’ve been drifting apart or what caused the start of the drift. All you knew, was that one day, two months ago, your husband had come home with a changed, indifferent air around him. Within that long agonising month, you had tried everything to garner his attention. You suggested bike riding down the Han River liked you used to when you began dating, trying to rekindle some of the love and passion in your relationship. However, Jimin had refuted the offer, claiming he had a busy day at work and he was tired. When you suggested a date night, something relaxing like a movie and dinner, Jimin had rebuked that too, not wanting to leave home. But when you’d suggested staying in and watching a film, he’d turned that down too; heading straight to bed instead.

For two months you tried whatever you could. From planned days in so that he could rest if he was tired, all the way to suggesting fun and exciting things like trips to museums or the park like you used to when you were dating. But each and every single idea was turned down with some excuse or another. At some point you began wondering if you had done something to annoy him or said something that caused him to begin pulling away from you. But no matter how much you racked your brain, you couldn’t pinpoint any thing. He was just no longer interested in spending time with you.

You let out a soft sigh, looking at the time before your shoulders droop in disappointment. You picked at your bowl, moving around the rice with your chopsticks before you sigh and place the wooden sticks down. Getting up, your grabbed the bowls and placed them on the kitchen counter before returning for the banchan dishes. Apathetically, you begin placing them in small tupperware containers. Tonight was another night that Jimin hadn’t come home in time for dinner. Another night he’d stayed later at the office.

You know he’s busy, being the CEO of a major company and everything but that didn’t mean that you didn’t miss him. It had been more than a few months since you’d even had dinner with him, let alone seen him. Before this weird slump in your relationship, Jimin would always make time for you. He’d leave work at six on the dot just so he could be home by seven to have dinner with you. You still remember it fondly.

[Flashback two and a half months ago]

You turned the stove off, before taking the steaks off of the pan, placing them on a plate to rest. Meanwhile, you pulled the potatoes out of the oven and plated them. Checking over the time, you let out a small smile. It was almost seven o’clock; which meant Jimin would be home soon. Tossing the salad, you moved the bowl to the dining table. It didn’t take you long to finish setting up the table, dimming the lights and lighting the candles for a little mood lighting.

Glancing at the clock once again, your stomach somersaults in anticipation. It was seven o’clock, which meant your beloved husband would be home at any moment now. You don’t have to wait long, in fact you’re barely waiting a few seconds, before you hear the telltale sound of keys jingling in the door. You spin on your heel, grinning with giddiness as your beautiful husband walks through the living room and into the dining room, one arm behind his back.

Jimin takes in the scene with a surprised gasp, his lush lips forming a perfect ‘o’, from the hot dinner laden on the table, to the candlelight, to your made up self. His face softens and he lets out a tender smile, walking up to you and taking you in his one free arm. The toned arm wraps around you, pulling you into him before he swoops down, crushing your lips between his plush ones.

You practically melted into his embrace, a soft sigh leaving your mouth as you taste him. Your hands move from your side to rest on his chest, pressing softly into the taut muscles before sliding up and wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down and closer to you. A couple moments later, he pulls away but only slightly, his lips still lingering next to yours. You slowly open your eyes, staring deeply into his as he peppers soft, lazy kisses on your lips.

“I missed you so much” Jimin whispers, his lips grazing yours from how close he is, voice slightly hoarse from your kiss. You let out a small smile, standing on your tip toes and kissing him once again. Suddenly, he’s moving the arm behind his bag, brandishing a beautiful bouquet of pale cream roses and white lilies. You gasp slightly, completely unsurprised, but loving the tender gesture anyway. You take the bouquet from him gently, deeply inhaling the strong musky scent of the lilies mixed with the sweet scent of roses.

“You hate the smell of lilies” You point out, turning and walking back into the kitchen to fetch a vase. Jimin lets out a small huff, following you like a puppy.

“I do” Jimin says, nose scrunched at the strong smell of the flowers.

“And you still buy them every week because?” You question, placing the bouquet in a vase filled with water as your finger traces a petal.

“Because you love lilies and I love you, even if I can’t stand the smell of them” Jimin replies, pressing his chest against your back and wrapping his arms around your waist before kissing the back of your shoulder tenderly. Your heart swells at his gesture, leaning back into his embrace.

“I love you” You whisper, Jimin’s arms tightening around you.

“I love you too. More than I thought it possible to love someone” Jimin replies, pressing another kiss onto your shoulder. You let out a small sigh before unwrapping his arms from around your waist and dragging him into the dining room. Jimin takes a seat at one end, you on the other. You reach over to serve him but he lightly smacks your hand away before entwining his fingers with yours, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing the spot he hit.

“You already cooked dinner; at least let me serve you” Jimin says and you bite your lip to try and stop your smile. You nod, taking a seat once again as Jimin serves you both a steak along with some salad and potatoes. The two of you fall into an easy silence, just the sound of cutlery scraping against the ceramic plates filling the room. Jimin takes a bite, plush lips slightly pouted and soft cheeks puffed as he chews. He closes his eyes and lets out a small groan, revelling in the taste.

“Gods, this steak is amazing. You really spoil me ____” Jimin says, relishing in the flavour. You chuckle slightly at his over exaggeration.

“I thought we could have something a bit different than our usual” You replied cheerily and Jimin nods, sending you a thumbs up.

“Definitely a good idea. Ten out of ten”

“So how was work?” You ask and Jimin lets out a small sigh before he begins speaking about how hard his day had been. You wince slightly when he tells you he had to fire a CFO for embezzling money and then had to spend the rest of the day sorting out the mess and the paperwork. You reach over and place your hand on his, offering him the little bit of comfort you could. You, yourself, could never understand stuffy office jobs. Instead, you owned your own little clothing company, from which you could work at home as you designed whatever came to mind.

“But enough of me. How was your day? Did you design anything brilliant?” Jimin questions, and you nod enthusiastically. You quickly get up run into your little design studio, grabbing your sketchbook and bringing it back to him. You flip open to the newest page, showing off your creation as you explain it to him. For the most of it, Jimin smiles and encourages you to continue, making small comments on what he thinks you could improve every now and then.

You spend the rest of dinner idly chatting, fingers lightly touching each other; just wanting to feel the other. And then, when dinner is done, Jimin drags you into your shared bedroom, proceeding to show you just exactly how much he missed you at work.

[End of flashback]

A small smile falls on your face as the fond memory ends. You glance back at the clock. It’s only a little past eight. Eyes flicking to the packed tupperware containers, you make a quick decision. Jimin had been working late far too much lately and you couldn’t fault him for that, being a CEO he was busy. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t head over to his company and take dinner to him. When was the last time you had done that? You can’t even remember. Determination floods you and you nod to yourself before packing up the containers into a bag.

Half an hour later, you find yourself at Jimin’s company. You walk through the large glass doors, heels clicking along the marble flooring. The reception greets you with a smile and bow, most of the company workers already knowing who you are. You enter the elevator, clicking the button that leads you to Jimin’s floor before standing in the middle, humming along to the elevator music, food in your hands.

A couple moments later and the elevator dings, doors opening. Jimin’s secretary is nowhere to be found, most likely already gone home for the day considering it’s already nine o’clock. You look towards the glass window, shoulders slumping as you realise he’s in with someone. Vaguely, she looks familiar to you. Her long hair flows down her back, dressed in a burgundy pant suit. Her face turns slightly and recognition fills you. If you remember correctly, her name was Cheon Yoojin and she was a CEO of a company Jimin was hoping to merge with. You had met her three months ago.

[Flashback three months ago]

“God I hate these parties” Jimin whines, his hand on your back as he leads you through the large gallery, smiling at various people as he passes them. You roll your eyes before elbowing him in the stomach lightly.

“It’s not like I enjoy being here either. We only do this because your company holds these parties and as the CEO you have to attend” You replied shortly, Jimin sighing.

“I know, I know! But that doesn’t mean I have to like it” Jimin whines before he pulls you closer, “it doesn’t help when you look as good as you do. I just want to take you home” Jimin whispers in your ear, voice low. You blush, face heating before you elbow him again.

“Jimin! You can’t do that here” You admonish, Jimin sighing before pouting again.

“Let’s just get this over and done with so we can leave” Jimin says and you giggle at his words before leaning in closer.

“You know… I’m not wearing any underwear” You whisper lowly in his ear. Jimin’s eyes widen, his gaze flicking towards your backside before groaning lowly.

“You can’t just tell me I’m not allowed to say I want to take you home and then tell me that” Jimin gripes. You send him a suggestive look before shrugging and walking away from his, a slight sway to your hips. Jimin groans, almost as if in pain, before following you quickly, hand once again on the small of your back.

“Just wait till we get home” Jimin growls and you bite your lip to suppress the small grin forming on your lips.

Jimin leads you to a small group of people. Most of them are men who are much older than your husband; all standing around talking about whatever business men spoke about. Their wives stand next to them, engaging in their own conversation about whatever gossip was running through the community. If you were being honest, you didn’t really care. Most of them were boring old men who cared far too much about money and having the best trophy wife. The wives were no better, most of them marrying rich with nothing better to do than to gossip about everyone else. However, amongst them, is one woman who looks about the same age as your husband, maybe slightly older.

“Gentleman. Ladies” Jimin greets with a small bow of respect towards his seniors. The men turn to him, smiling and nodding back.

“Ah! Jimin-ssi! It’s nice of you to finally join your own party. We were just talking about when you and your lovely wife would show up” one of the men says, practically leering at you with sparkling eyes as he rakes over your figure. You felt your stomach turn queasy, Jimin’s hold on you tightening. You smile tightly, knowing you had to be respectful, no matter how much you wanted to grab his wife’s drink and spill it in his face. What a pig!

“____-ssi, that’s a beautiful dress! Did you design it yourself?” One of the wives gushes, looking at your floor length gown. You turn to her, smiling politely as you nod.

“Oh it’s wonderful! You simply must design one for me” Another wife pipes in and you pull out a business card from your purse, handing it to her. She smiles brightly, taking it from your grasp. This was the only reason you even loathed to attend these parties. In fact, your biggest customer base was desperate housewives who had nothing better to do than spend their husband’s money. Custom made designer clothing was sought after throughout the entire community. Not just anyone could afford an entire wardrobe of hand tailored clothing after all.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met” the young woman says and you turn to her, blinking slightly. Up close she’s incredibly beautiful, from her sharp eyes and red lips all the way down to her elegant neckline. She’s built like a supermodel and you briefly wonder just whose wife she is.

“Yoojin-ssi, this is my wife ____. Yeobo, this is Cheon Yoojin. She’s the CEO of a company I’m hoping to merge with. Do you remember? I told you about it before” Jimin introduces and your eyes widen slightly. You reach out your hand, diamond wedding ring glinting in the light as you shake hands with Yoojin. You can’t help but admire and respect her; not only was she stunningly beautiful, she was also the CEO of a successful company at her young age. Not to mention she somehow had the respect of all the older men around her, who still only saw you as a piece of arm candy despite your own incredibly successful, albeit small, clothing business.

The two of you stand with the group for another ten minutes. Jimin engages in conversation with the men and Yoojin, trying to keep the conversation business related. However, for the most of it, the men only want to comment on the different women around, making slightly misogynistic comments every now and then that has you and Yoojin rolling your eyes. The wives don’t even bother paying attention to the conversation, instead trying to drag you into a conversation on your newest clothing line. You don’t divulge much, knowing that the added suspense and secrecy would undoubtedly ignite their curiosity and make them want to buy your clothing even more.

“Gentleman. Ladies. If you’ll excuse us, I would like to dance with my wife” Jimin says after a while, the women around him swooning and gushing as they watch Jimin lead you away.

“God that was awful. If I had to spend one more second there with those men ogling you, I was going to lose my mind” Jimin gripes, leading you towards the dancefloor. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you close, your own arms wrapping around his neck automatically; fingers entangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah… try being the one they’re speaking about" You answer, rolling your eyes as you remember some of their words from before.

"Let's just forget them and enjoy ourselves, yeah?" Jimin says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You nod, tucking your head under his chin as he gentle sways you to the music.

You breathe him in deeply, taking in his deep citrus and musk cologne, letting the smell wash over you. Closing your eyes, you lose yourself in the feel of his presence wrapped around you, allowing him to slowly lead you around the dancefloor. Jimin removes one of your hands from around his neck, entangling your fingers together and kissing the pads of your fingertips before once again wrapping it around his neck. His cheek is pressed into your head as he sways you; one of his hands on the small of your back while the other sits loosely on the back of your hip.

"I hate these parties so much but..." Jimin whispers, his breath fanning the hairs on your head.

"But?"

"But they're slightly more bearable with you. I love you" Jimin whispers, his voice low in your ear and yet it rings louder than even the classical music from the orchestra.

"I love you too" you sigh, more than happy to just be in your husband’s arms.

[End of flashback]

You remember the night with a happy smile, gripping the bag of food even tighter as you think about finally spending time and having dinner with your husband once again. You needed him to stop pulling away from you because of work and spend some time with you because you missed him dearly. You turn back to his office, wondering if they were done.

And then your heart stops.

Because there is your husband, the love of your life, with his lips on Cheon Yoojin.

Your heart instantaneously drops to your stomach. You can hear the drumming of your heartbeat thunder in your ears, drowning out the sound of anything else. You can't look away from the scene. A small part of you waits for something to happen. For Jimin to push her off. For him to tell her he loves you. For him to stop kissing her.

But moments pass and he's still locked lips with her. A slight hope flares in your chest as he pulls away from her. You watch the scene, completely fixated in a sick, twisted way. But then, he steps closer to her, his eyes dark and filled with want. The way he looks at you. His hand grabs her chin and then he pulls her into another kiss. The small inkling of hope that ignited in your chest completely burns out and you're left with nothing but an aching, broken heart.

Your fist clenches around the hand of the bag carrying your now completely cold dinner. You close your eyes, finally breaking away from the scene. Spinning on your heel, you walk away, your heart breaking with every step.

Somehow, you manage to stop yourself from breaking down in the car ride home. Somehow, you hold yourself together right up until you enter your home. Home... what a strange word. This was definitely your home. But now, it didn't feel like it. You trudge through the apartment, breath shaky and tears welling in your eyes. But they still don't fall. You feel completely numb.

You walk into your room, completely catatonic and moving as if on auto pilot. You sit on your bed, staring at nothing in particular as you remember the way he kissed her. The scene plays in your mind over and over again. As if it were a broken record stuck on repeat. The moonlight streaming through your window catches a large photo frame hanging on one of the walls. Your eyes are unspeakably drawn to the glinting photo.

It's your wedding photo.

It's a candid shot. You and Jimin are staring at each other, smiling tenderly at one another. Jimin's arm is around your waist, his head slightly bent and leaned into yours, almost as if he's about to kiss you. The white of your dress is a stark contrast against his black suit, the pale pink bouquet of roses on the floor as you hold onto his arms. The sun is setting in the background, both your silhouettes set ablaze with a halo of sunlight.

You remember the day as if it were yesterday. It was the happiest day of your life. Jimin sang to you in that sweet voice of his. He danced with you. Held you close. He kissed you and told you he loved you. The memory of him reciting his wedding vows pops into your mind. Followed immediately by the memory of seeing him kiss Yoojin.

And then you can't help it. You break down, sobs wracking through your body as you cry into the dark, quiet of your room. Your body shakes with your cries, tears flowing freely. You feel the warmth of them run down your cheeks before disappearing into your shirt. You fall back onto the bed, curled into a ball as you weep out all your feelings, all the hurt and heartache you feel. Your husband was cheating on you.

Park Jimin was cheating on you.

You cry and cry until finally, you can't cry anymore. You're throat is raw, now only dry hiccuping as you somehow run out of tears. Your heart aches, your headaches and your eyes sting. You slowly close your eyes, still sobbing but tears refusing to fall. Your cries are quiet in the night, slowly dying until you finally fall asleep from exhaustion.

He doesn't come home that night.

You're not surprised.

When he comes home the next day, he apologises to you saying he had to work late. A part of you wants to call him out, to tell him that you know. But you can't bring yourself to say the words. You know that as soon as you do, there's no going back. The minute you tell him you know, your relationship with Park Jimin is over. But despite how much he's hurt you, you still love him with everything you have. Your heart still belongs to him. You still want and need him in your life.

A part of you thinks that perhaps you could just never mention it and try everything in your power to bring him back to you. So that's what you do. You try to appeal to him more, try to spend more time with him. You try your hardest to remind you why he fell in love with you and why he married you. But the harder you try, the more he pulls away. Bit by bit, he slips from your life. You can feel him fall out of love with you; see it in his eyes. He didn't buy you flowers every week anymore. He no longer kissed you goodbye. He no longer sent you little messages about how much he loved and missed you. The more you try to occupy his attention, the more he refutes you, and your heart just aches all over again, longing for him to come back to you.

Months pass like this. Every time he leaves for work, you wonder if he's going to meet her. You wonder if he's buying her flowers like he used to for you. You wonder if he's texting her photos of the cats he spots on his way to work. You wonder if he kisses her like he used to kiss you. You don’t want to, but you can’t help but wonder if he loves her the way he loved you.

You sit at your desk, staring at your blank art book. You haven't had the inspiration to design anything recently. Your eyes well up with tears and you try to blink them away, not wanting to cry anymore. There was something that you could still do to bring him back. Surely, you weren’t supposed to just watch your husband disappear.

You turn to one of the clothing racks in your design room, a piece of lingerie sticking out. It's a soft baby blue colour, made of satin and lace. You remember designing it with Jimin in mind; knowing that he'd love seeing you in it. 

Suddenly, an idea pops in your head and you quickly grab the lingerie off the rack. You enter the bathroom, looking yourself over before grimacing. Your eyes were red and bloodshot, skin slightly pale and hair practically a rat’s nest. When was the last time you had even brushed it? You shake your head, stripping and getting in the shower. You spend the next hour or so shaving every part of your body, deep conditioning your hair and moisturising your body. When you're done in the bathroom, you walk to your vanity before dolling up yourself as much as you can. When you're finally done, your makeup is perfectly blended and light, highlighting your natural features, your still hair still slightly damp and dripping down your neck, drawing attention to your breasts in the lingerie.

You hear the front door open and your stomach churns with nerves. Your palms become sweaty but you shake of the anxious feeling. It shouldn't be hard to seduce your own husband. You had done so many times before, sometimes without even trying. You could do it once again. You'd show him how much you loved him and try and remind him how much he loved you.

The bedroom door opens and you stand up, facing him with your most sultry look. Jimin trudges into the room and you walk up to him, your hips swaying slightly. Jimin's jaw drops, his eyes raking your figure and excitement fills your entire being as you begin feeling giddy. He gulps slightly, his mouth slightly ajar as he takes in the powder blue lingerie against your skin. You place a hand on his chest and stare up at him through half lidded eyes, your bottom lip slightly poked out in a pout.

"I missed you" You whisper, voice deliberately husky, hand running down his chest. However, before you can reach the waistband of his trousers, Jimin's hand is shooting out, catching your hand in his. You startle slightly, eyes snapping towards his in shock. You search his eyes and your heart breaks at the obvious guilt flashing in them as well as the reluctance.

"I'm not... in the mood ___... I'm tired" Jimin says but you know it's an excuse. Suddenly, you spot a pink mark hidden behind his ear and you pull your hand away as if he's burned you. You stare at him in shock, your eyes scanning over his entire face, looking for any sign that would prove your hunch wrong. You find none.

His eyes are alight with guilt and nervousness, his hair slightly damp with sweat. The pink mark is unmistakably a hickey, and now that you weren't focused on seducing him, you can smell the faint scent of sex around him. You step away from him, eyes wide in disbelief.

You don't even wait for him to say anything, instead turning and walking away from him.

After that, you try less and less. If Jimin's noticed a change, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he's content to go along as if there isn't a huge rift amongst the two of you. You spend all your time throwing yourself into your work, designing and putting out clothing as if you were a machine. It helps take your mind off of things; helps you stop wondering where he is.

The day you dread comes six months after the first time you caught him cheating that night in his office. Jimin comes home early and the minute he steps into your home, you notice something is wrong. He's slightly nervous and fidgety, barely able to look you in the eyes. He calls you to the dining room and you join him, sitting across from him stoically as you watch him.

You both sit in silence for a few moments, neither of you saying anything. You open your mouth to ask him what this is about but before you can say anything, Jimin is pushing some papers across towards you. Your stare blankly at them before turning back to him, face scrunched in confusion. And then he says the words you've been dreading.

"Let's get a divorce."

The minute the words leave his mouth, you're heart is completely shattered, throat automatically closing up. You want to fight, you want to yell at him and ask him why. But you’re exhausted. And you know why. So instead, you reach out for the papers and passively stare at them. Jimin's brows furrow slightly and he shifts again, looking at you awkwardly. He waits for you to say something, waits for you to question why. But the words never come. Finally, when he's tired of squirming, he asks.

"Are you not going to ask why? I was expecting a fight. Or maybe some emotion" Jimin says but you're unresponsive, simply staring at the divorce papers.

"I know why" You finally managed to croak out.m Jimin stiffens in his seat, sucking in a sharp breath.

"What?" He asks, voice barely above a whisper and laced with alarm.

"I know you're cheating on me with Cheon Yoojin... I know you've slept with her" You say, swallowing thickly as the words finally leave your mouth.

"How?"

"I... I came by your office one night to have dinner with you. I saw you kiss her... and then that night... when you pulled away from me. I saw the hickey she left and you smelled like sex..." You whisper, barely audible. But he hears it, as clear as day. Jimin shifts again, swallowing thickly.

"I'm-" He begins and you shake your head, hair flying with it.

"Don't apologise. Don't say you're sorry. If you were, you would have ended it at the kiss" You say, finally looking up from the papers and towards him. Jimin sucks in a breath; your eyes are completely empty, exhausted of any emotion. You stare at him blankly, eyes flitting over his face as you count the faint lines on his forehead, commit the shape of his lips to your memory, the way his eyelashes kiss his cheeks every time he blinks. Was this the last time you’d be this close to him?

"I felt you slip away. I felt you pull away every day while I tried to hold on as much as I could... I felt you slowly fall out of love with me" You whisper unable to look away from him, eyes welling up once again.

"I... I don't know what to say" Jimin replies, completely at a loss for words.

"Tell me there's a way we can fix this... you loved me once. We could work this out. Please," you practically beg, your voice pleading.

"I don't know" Jimin says, uncertainty present in his voice.

"Please! Let's go to couple's therapy or marriage counselling" You suggest and Jimin shakes his head.

"I don't think it will work" he refutes and you bite your lip.

"Please! If it doesn't work, I'll sign the papers without a fight. I won't argue with you. Just let's try... you owe me this. Please,” you plead and Jimin finally sighs.

“For how long? How long are we going to try and make this work? What if it still doesn’t help?” Jimin asks and you bite your quivering lip.

“Three months. Just three months. And if it doesn’t work, I promise I’ll sign and leave you alone” You propose. Jimin closes his eyes before nodding.

"Okay. Because I owe you that much" Jimin relents and you nod, hope flaring in your chest for the first time in months.

The first therapy session, you both find yourselves seated in a councillor's office. Jimin sits on one side of the sofa, you on the other. The distance between the two of you is short and yet it feels as if he's oceans away. You fidget in the seat, your therapist, Mr. Kim, looking at both of you carefully. He's sat cross legged, a pen and a pad of paper resting on his knees.

"Welcome. I'm Kim Namjoon, I will be your therapist for the next three months" Namjoon introduces and you nod, smiling nervously at him. Jimin looks at him apathetically.

"What brings you here?" Namjoon asks. You look at Jimin, waiting for him to say something, but when he doesn't you let out a small sigh before turning back to Namjoon.

"We've run into some problems... Jimin wants to get a divorce but I was hoping we could work it out" You say, and Namjoon nods, turning to Jimin.

"If you don't mind me asking, why do you want a divorce?" He questioned the other man.

"Things have changed between us" Jimin says simply and you wince from his slightly callous tone. How could he be so blasé? Was his mind really already made up? It hurt. It hurt seeing how okay he was to simply end your relationship when you were so far from being anywhere close to alright. 

Namjoon asks you both more questions, trying to get the both of you to open up and speak more about your relationship. You answer as honestly and earnestly as you can, trying to get to the root of your problem. However, Jimin barely partakes in the discussion, content to simply let you speak. Namjoon looks at him briefly, his face passive before taking down some more notes. It was clear to him that you wanted to hold on to this relationship more than Jimin.

“Is there someone else?” Namjoon asks, watching the way Jimin stiffens before looking away slightly. He watches the way your shoulders slump, your legs shifting uneasily. There’s no response from either of you but he doesn’t need one.

“I see. How did you meet?” Namjoon asks, turning to Jimin. Jimin glares at him, jaw clenching. He briefly glances over to you, eyes heavy with emotion. It’s incredibly brief. You don’t notice it, far too absorbed in staring at the carpet while you try to drown out the conversation. But Namjoon sees it.

“Through work” comes his clipped reply, eyes once again trained on Namjoon.

“And why did you want or choose to spend more time with her than your wife?” Namjoon follows up.

“We just spent more time together because of work” Jimin responds through grit teeth. Namjoon makes a noncommittal noise, writing something else down in his notepad.

“And when was the last time you spent time with your wife?” Namjoon asks, leveling his stare at Jimin. Jimin freezes, unsure of how to respond. He couldn’t even remember. His lips downturn slightly, looking away as he tries to remember.

“April 18th” comes your soft voice. Jimin’s head snaps towards you, looking at you in horror, almost agog. Had it really been that long? That was more than half a year ago. Jimin could remember that date clearly. In fact, that was the date he and Yoojin had seriously begun meeting about the merger of their companies. Namjoon’s notes the distress on Jimin’s face before crossing his legs and levelling his gaze at both of you.

“Well, let’s start with spending time together then. Perhaps, if you both set aside some time once a week to just spend some time together again for let’s say… an hour?” Namjoon suggests. You look unsure, shrugging lightly before turning to Jimin in hope. Jimin for the most of it was still frowning. Had it really been that long? And why did you remember the date clearly? Namjoon clears his throat, drawing Jimin’s attention once again. Jimin clears his throat, focusing back on the conversation.

“What?”

“I suggested spending time with your wife once a week” Namjoon replies, looking at him pointedly. Jimin sighs before nodding, mind still jumbled over how long it had been since he’d spent time with you. Surely, it hadn’t been that long. There was no way. He racked his mind, trying to think of a time recently he’d been with you. With remorseful surprise, he realises he can’t think of any recent time. He swallows thickly before nodding.

“Yeah. Sure” comes his reply, eyes flicking momentarily towards you again.

“Alright. Let’s meet in two weeks then” Namjoon says with finality, ending the session.

A week later, you find yourself sitting in an ice cream shop, waiting for Jimin to join you. You shift nervously, wondering whether you should buy something or not. Glancing at your watch you sigh, you were ten minutes early. You shuffle around, trying to find a comfortable position but no matter how much you try, you can’t seem to find one. Letting out a little sigh, you take a deep breath trying to calm your nerves. You really shouldn’t be this nervous to meet with your own husband. And yet, for some reason, it feels like you’ve been thrown back years into the past, waiting for your boyfriend on your first date.

Ten minutes pass agonisingly slow. Every time the doorbell jingles, you look up expectantly, hoping to see your husband. Each time however, you’re left crestfallen. Another five minutes pass and you sigh in disappointment. Your husband, as usual, was late. Another ten minutes pass and you begin to grow anxious. Twenty minutes later and it’s been more than half an hour that you’ve been waiting for your husband. You begin to wonder if he was even going to show up at this point. Perhaps he had forgotten, or was more occupied with Yoojin. Perhaps he thought there was no point even turning up.

You wait another fifteen minutes and finally, when you tire of waiting, you start gathering your things. More than ready to up and leave as frustrated tears well up in your eyes. Just as you get up however, the door opens and Jimin walks in. He quickly walks over to you, sitting down at your booth.

“Sorry I’m late” He says but there’s no real apology in his tone. You know your husband well. After all, you’ve spent a decade together. You know him well enough to know that he’s not really sorry. You want to ask him where he was, to let him know you only have less than ten minutes of this ‘date’ left over. But you can’t bring yourself to say the words.

Instead, the two of you sit in silence just staring at each other. The atmosphere is awkward. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to think of something to say but nothing comes to mind. Jimin simply looks around, looking at anything but you.

“How was work?” You finally ask, gathering the courage to say something.

“Fine” comes his clipped answer. You slump slightly at his closed response.

“How’s the merger coming along?” You gulp, not really wanting to ask considering exactly who he was merging with.

“Good” Jimin replies curtly. His phone suddenly buzzes, drawing his attention. You watch as he answers his phone, a small smile on his face. Your chest aches, knowing exactly who is on the other end making him smile. You try to draw his attention back to you, but Jimin stays engrossed on his phone. The ice cream parlour is filled with people, all happily chatting as they eat their ice creams, some couples even sharing a sundae. And yet despite the amount of people around you, you’ve never felt more alone.

“It’s three o’clock. I believe we’re done here?” Jimin says, putting his phone down. Your eyes widen and you stutter, unsure of what to say.

“But you just got here” You point out, voice shaky.

“Yeah… but I have to get back to the office” Jimin excuses before he gets up.

“Jimin-” You call out and he turns to you.

“Do… do you even love me anymore?” You whisper, dread heavy in your bones as the question slips from your lips. Jimin’s eyes soften and you see the hesitation on his face as he contemplates whether he should answer you or simply walk away. Finally coming to a decision, Jimin stares directly in your eyes and you can almost feel the next words.

“I don’t know” he replies, the uncertainty reflected in his eyes before he walks away.

You watch him walk away from you, eyes trained on his back. As soon as he leaves the shop, he picks up his phone, a large smile on his face. You turn away, staring at the table. Was this all a waste of your time? Were you trying to fix your marriage in vain? Were you just drawing out your own pain until the inevitable happens and Jimin pulls the trigger on your relationship? Were you destined to watch your husband walk away from you and fall in love with someone else? You bite your lip and breathe in deeply, willing the tears away, ignoring the pitying looks of everyone around you.

Your next therapy session falls a week after the disaster that was your meeting. Jimin is once again late, barely greeting the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes follow Jimin’s figure before flicking between the both of you. He jots something down in his notepad before smiling. You return your own uneasy smile, although it comes out more like a grimace.

“So let’s start with speaking about your date. How was it?” Namjoon asks, smiling encouragingly at both of you. You let out another grimace, looking away from him, unable to meet his eyes or even bring yourself to speak about the disastrous meeting. Jimin shrugs his own response, not saying anything. Neither of you say anything, but just from the thick tension in the atmosphere, Namjoon can already surmise what most likely happened. 

“Okay then. Do you want to speak about where both of you think your marriage started going wrong?” Namjoon asks and you nod shakily. You really aren’t sure where it started going wrong. You had always been in love with Jimin and you still were. Even now, when seven o’clock struck, you’d find yourself looking towards the door, hoping he’d surprise you by walking in. And each time you’re left disappointed and distraught. Jimin hadn’t come home since he’d asked for a divorce; leaving you far more alone than you’d ever been in your huge luxury apartment.

“Can we cut this meeting short? There’s an emergency at the office” Jimin suddenly says and you whip your head towards him.

“And only you’re the one who can sort out this emergency?” Namjoon asks, quirking an eyebrow at him. You both know it’s an excuse. You both know your husband wants to be anywhere but here at the moment. His entire demeanour is closed off, arms and legs crossed as he stares out the window.

“I’m the CEO” comes Jimin’s reply and Namjoon nods.

“An important role yes. But isn’t your marriage equally important? Surely there are other people who can take care of the emergency” Namjoon presses, Jimin rolling his eyes.

“No there aren’t” he grits out, his eyes almost challenging Namjoon to continue pressing him. His entire response has you reeling. You don’t miss the way he glosses over Namjoon’s question about the importance of your marriage. But your worst fears are confirmed through both his words and actions. He really didn’t think your marriage was worth saving.

“Okay. ____-ssi, are you fine with cutting this meeting short?” Namjoon asks and you nod, now wanting to be as far away from Jimin as you possibly could be. You quickly gather your stuff before bowing and walking out of the office. Jimin moves to follow you, but Namjoon calls out his name, stopping him.

“Jimin-ssi, a moment please” Namjoon says. Jimin sighs before turning to him, looking at him in question.

“What?” Jimin grunts.

“It seems that your wife is trying much harder to save this relationship than you are” Namjoon points out and Jimin scoffs.

“She wants to save this marriage more than I do” Jimin answers, as if the answer was obvious, Namjoon humming.

“Perhaps. But I believe there’s a part of you that also wants to try and save this marriage. A part much larger than you even know” Namjoon says sagely, Jimin snorting.

“And why do you think that?” He asks, tone mocking and arms crossed as he begins tapping his legs impatiently, looking down at Namjoon.

“Because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here” Namjoon says, staring back through his thick frames.

“That’s not why I’m here” Jimin splutters, Namjoon raising an eyebrow.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I owe her that much for cheating on her and for asking for a divorce” Jimin replies, voice slightly quiet as he looks away, guilt emblazoned in his eyes.

“No” Namjoon says, Jimin’s head whipping to look at him in confusion, “you owe her nothing. You cheated on her and you want a divorce. If you really wanted that, you would have just walked away. Every time you speak of your affair there’s guilt in your eyes, which if I may point out, wouldn’t be there if you really wanted to leave. You act like you don’t want to be here and that these sessions are a chore and yet you still turn up every week despite being a busy CEO. I’ve counseled a lot of marriages and I’ve only seen these things happen when the person wanting to leave really wants to stay or is unsure about walking away. That guilt in your eyes, is something I only see in partners who still love their significant others. Tell me something, when was the last time you actually paid attention to your wife?” Namjoon asks and Jimin balks, unsure of what to say at Namjoon’s sudden tangent. More important, he doesn’t know the answer to Namjoon’s question.

“If you have nothing to say that’s fine. Just think about it. I believe our next session is in another two weeks. I want you to think about this relationship carefully. If you want to stay, then stay and work to try and fix your marriage. But if not, then just walk away. Don’t prolong this. Break it off and let your wife grieve and move on cause right now, you’re causing her more pain by giving her false hope. I hope you make a decision by our next session” Namjoon says, his tone final. Jimin quickly leaves the room, his mind in a jumble for the first time in a while.

Was Namjoon right? Was he subconsciously holding onto your relationship?

The next time you meet Jimin, it’s once again at the ice cream parlour. You hesitate for a bit, staring up at the neon sign as you wonder if there’s any real point to going in. Jimin was most likely going to be late anyway and when he finally did turn up, he probably wouldn’t even pay attention to you. Perhaps it was best if you walked away from the ice cream shop and consequently away from your marriage. It would save you a lot of heartache. And yet, no matter how much you want to walk away, you simply can’t bring yourself to do so.

Therefore, you find yourself opening the door. You trudge through the shop, deciding that this time, you’d at least order some ice cream. That way, you wouldn’t look like some sad sop just sitting waiting for a man who no longer wanted to be with her. You walk up to the counter, the staff recognising you with a small pitying smile. You ignore their looks and order the biggest sundae you could find before taking a seat in the same booth you had a fortnight ago.

The clock strikes two o’clock and you sigh, your husband still nowhere in sight. You dig into your melting ice cream, letting the cookie and cream flavour slowly comfort you. Ten minutes later, however, to your greatest surprise, your husband rushes in. Jimin briskly walks over and you greet him with a small nod before turning your eyes back to your ice cream.

“I’m sorry! I tried to leave but my meeting ran later than I thought it would” Jimin quickly excuses and you shrug, squashing the little bit of hope that flares at his apologetic tone. There’s no point in hoping or longing for Jimin to stay anymore, he had already made his decision in wanting to leave you.

For the first time in over half a year, Jimin watches you; pays attention to you. Your eyes are downcast, idly scooping ice cream into your mouth. You refuse to look at him, your eyes staying trained on your sundae. He takes the time to take in your figure, guilt practically drowning him at how small and hopeless you look. Your hair still shines the way it used to, skin still glowing. Your makeup is flawless and you still dress yourself the same, carrying yourself like the high end fashion designer you were; and yet your entire demeanour screams exhaustion, your eyes practically empty. The sudden realization that he did that to you makes his stomach churn, throat closing up. When did he become the type of person to hurt someone he cared about so deeply?

He sits up straighter, his phone buzzing and Yoojin’s name popping up on screen. But instead of paying attention, he turns his phone on silent and flips it over as an extra measure. He had said he’d at least try and no matter what feelings he had for Yoojin, he knew he had to stick to his words. He owed you that much at least for hurting you so deeply. Jimin swallows thickly, eyes scanning over your face and willing you to look at him. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t even know where to start. He frowns slightly at that. You’d been together for almost ten years, so why was it suddenly so hard to speak to you?

All of a sudden, the distance between you two hits JImin like a freight train. He can feel the huge rift between the two of you. He frowns slightly, wondering when it had gotten so big. Did you always feel this far away from him? Why did it feel like you were worlds away, almost unattainable? The two of you had always been close, always been able to speak about everything and anything. There were times when you’d both wake up in the early hours of the morning, still in bed and voice heavy with sleep and speak about the smallest, silliest of things like how blue the ceiling was or the amount of steps it would take to walk to the moon. But now here you were, sitting completely in silence, the atmosphere so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. He waits for you to say something, for you to ask him how his day was or how work was. But you don’t. 

Frustration wells up inside of him, wondering if you had given up on trying to work on your relationship. He freezes abruptly. Why did he care so much? Surely, that was good for him. It meant that you could both walk away. So, why did those thoughts fill him with dismay instead of joy? Why was his throat closing up, his heart heavy with emotion at the thought of you giving up on him? He gulps slightly, Namjoon’s words ringing in his mind. Was he right? Did he really want to try and save this marriage?

“How was your day?” Jimin asks, the words spilling out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think of them. He watches the way you sit up suddenly, eyes flicking to his figure in confusion. Guilt bubbles in his veins at the sudden surprise in your eyes. Was it really so shocking for him to ask you about your day? Was it so surprising for him to take an interest in your day? You were married after all. ‘Not for long’ his mind taunts. Jimin shakes his inner thoughts off. He tries to ignore the momentary distress at the thought of his ending marriage, but he can’t.

“It was… fine” comes your stilted answer and Jimin visibly winces at how awkward your words are. Silence washes over the both of you once again and Jimin shifts uneasily, the tension almost suffocating.

“How… how about work? You mentioned there were some talks about Lotte sponsoring you and allowing you to open a store in their department” Jimin questions and you nod, looking away slightly.

“That was months ago… I’ve had my own store for about half a year now” you reply, your voice quiet. Jimin feels dismayed, unsure of how to respond. He gapes at you, opening and closing his mouth as words escape you. That was a huge deal for you. In fact, for as long as he could remember, it had been your biggest dream. You’d always said that getting to opening a store in Lotte would be your greatest accomplishment. Was he so detached from your life that you hadn’t even mentioned such a milestone in your career? An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach. You just seemed to be getting further and further away from him. But that was a good thing. Right? So why wasn’t he happy?

“Why… why didn’t you tell me?” He finally manages to stutter out and you look at him in surprise, lips forming a thin line but he can see the hurt in your eyes, as clear as day.

“I did. Or at least, I tried to… you were busy with your… merger” you reply, voice whispering the last word. Jimin’s throat closes from emotion and he can feel his bottom lip trembling. Had he really been so absorbed in Yoojin and his affair that he’d missed your biggest dream come true? He didn’t know what to do with the information. He gulps, ready to ask you more about the deal and whether it was running smoothly but suddenly you’re getting up. He looks at you in alarm, watching as you gather your stuff.

“Where are you going?” Jimin blurts out in a panic, a small part of him wanting you to stay.

“It’s three o’clock. I didn’t want to keep you longer than you wanted to be here” You replied, voice small. Jimin flips his phone over, eyes almost bugging as he realised it had been almost an hour. He’d forgotten how quickly time would fly when you were together.

“Well then. I’ll see you at the next session. Goodbye” You say, a small bow accompanying your farewell. Jimin’s brows furrow as he watches you walk away. Why were you suddenly so formal? You had spent close to a decade together; you knew each other like the back of each other’s hands. Jimin freezes slightly, one question running through his mind.

When had you stopped kissing each other goodbye?

Over the next month and a half Jimin takes more interest in you and your relationship than he had in months. Between the little dates and long therapy sessions, Jimin now actively participating, the awkward tension slowly fades away and you wonder if perhaps it’s getting better and that there may be a chance that you both manage to salvage your relationship. A part of you still holds back for fear of the disappointment if Jimin still leaves at the end of all your therapy sessions. But for now, things were getting - hopefully - slightly better.

You check over the address, a slight frown on your face as you ensure you’re waiting at the right place. Your husband had suggested a change of scenery from the ice cream parlour, especially as you both were becoming ‘the odd couple’ at the shop. This week, you find yourself outside a horticultural and botanical garden centre.

“____! Here” Jimin calls out. You turn to him in shock, pleasantly surprised by his presence.

“You’re… early” You say, almost dumbly. Jimin blushes slightly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah sorry, I was late a lot wasn’t I?” Jimin asks and you bite your lip, nodding before looking away as you were reminded of the other woman in Jimin’s life. Was he still seeing her? You had no idea. It had been weeks since you’d even heard any mention of her. You didn’t even want to ask for the fear of the answer. But a small part of you hoped that he was done with her. 

“Why are we here?” You ask, trying to move the conversation along. Jimin grins before grabbing your hand, pulling you into the centre.

“You once told me you loved flowers because they give you inspiration for your designs. So here we are! The largest botanical garden in Seoul” He says cheerily, paying the lady at the reception the money before guiding you into the gardens.

You let him drag you through the garden, your eyes more trained on your joint hands. He’s more loose lipped now, speaking freely about anything and everything under the sun. You don’t really know what caused the change in him, but suddenly he feels like he’s the Park Jimin you fell in love with. Vaguely, you hear him reading the little description of the flowers you were looking at, but you’re still too focused on your joint hands. His hands fit perfectly within yours, his palm pressed against yours, your fingers interlocked together.

“Hey ____? You listening?” Jimin calls out and you break out of your reverie, looking at him slightly dazed.

“Are you okay?” Jimin follows up, looking at you worriedly.

“I’m fine! Sorry, I spaced out for a bit. What were you saying?” You say and Jimin shakes his head, smiling fondly before turning back to the flowers.

“I said those look really pretty don’t they?” He repeats, pointing towards some small succulents growing near the ground. You crouch down towards them, reaching out and feeling the squishy leaves under your fingertips. You take in the different colours and sizes, from vibrant greens to muted purples. Jimin crouches down next to you, leaning in closely before whispering.

“Do you think they’d notice if we just took some home?”

His tone is conspiratorial and hushed, as if he were planning the most covert operation. You turn to him, taking in his completely serious face before bursting into a fit of giggles at the ridiculousness of it all. You laugh to yourself, hand pressed against your mouth as you try to stifle your laughter, people watching the two of you. Jimin doesn’t care at their sudden audience. Instead, he’s focus on your face.

Your cheeks were lightly flushed, head slightly bent over into your knees and cheeks bulging under your eyes. But most importantly, your eyes were sparkling with emotion. They weren’t empty or defeated like he’d become accustomed to seeing them. Jimin’s breath hitches. Was this the first time he’d heard you laugh in over half a year? He’d forgotten how it sounded. His face softened slightly as he watched you pull yourself together. He’d forgotten how much he loved hearing you laugh. You couldn’t have always been this beautiful laughing, could you? Jimin muses to himself.

“I think we should go. We’re getting strange looks” You whisper, before taking Jimin’s hand in yours and dragging him away. The action comes simply to you, both of you slipping into the easiness you once had in your relationship.

Walking hand in hand, you both navigate through the gardens, stopping every now and then when either of you spot a flower or plant you both like. You’re almost at the end of the garden when Jimin suddenly stops, his nose scrunched up in distaste. You look at him in question, but Jimin points towards a field behind you. You turn, your heart thrumming in your chest as you suck in a breath. 

You’re surrounded by a field of lilies. Blooms of every colour you could imagine growing along the grassland. Your heart soars and you let go of Jimin’s hand, running through the field, giddiness coursing through your veins. Jimin is startled by the sudden loss of your hand in his. For how long had you been holding hands? Jimin hadn’t even noticed. The action came so easy to him, almost as if it were in his nature to hold her. He flexes his hand, the sudden coldness of it making his stomach drop in disappointment.

How long had it been since he held your hand? He missed it. More than he thought it was possible. Had your hand always fit so perfectly within his? It had. It was something he had noticed during the early days of your relationship. He’d always known. He’d just forgotten. The more time he spends with you on these little ‘dates’ the more he remembers the little things. Things like how you hadn’t changed your perfume in years just because he loved the scent. Or how your eyes would crinkle in the corners every time you smiled at him. Or the warmth of your hand encasing his. He was slowly but easily remembering the things he had forgotten over the course of your marriage.

He turns from his hand to look at the way you run through the field of lilies, laughing with excitement. His throat closes up. The sun is low in the sky, hidden behind some of the large greenhouses; yet sunlight still streaming through the glass. You’re highlighted by the sunshine, your silhouette encased in a halo made of sun rays. You look more vibrant than you had in months, your hair flying in the wind behind you as you raced through the flowers. Jimin loses himself in you. His heart quickens as he watches you, his hands becoming clammy. It was like he was falling in love with you all over again.

As if on auto pilot, Jimin walks over to you; almost like he was magnetised by your presence. Before he knows it, he’s right beside you. You pant heavily, somewhat out of breath, giggling from the rush of running through the field, adrenaline pumping in your veins. He takes in your flushed appearance, face crumpling at the first signs of honest happiness on your face in a while. He scrunches his nose, slightly put off by the incredibly strong musky scent of lilies surrounding you both.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” You gush, spinning around to look at the lilies. Jimin nods, agreeing with you. But it’s not the lilies he’s looking at.

“I think this is the end of the gardens. Are you ready to go back? I’m sorry this took more than an hour” You say, shifting slightly as you realised exactly why you were here. The sudden wave of sadness that courses through you is completely juxtaposed by your previous feelings of happiness and joy. Jimin notices the slight dimming of your eyes as you’re both brought back to reality. He hates himself for what he’s done to you.

In a bid to make it better and keep the sparkle in your eyes, he’s bending over. His eyes scan over the lilies in his vicinity before his eyes are caught by a bright yellow one in full bloom. The petals are completely open, the outer petals a soft yellow before darkening to an electric orange in the centre. He plucks it from the ground, making you gasp before looking around, ensuring you’re both alone.

“Jimin! You can’t do that. You could get in trouble for destruction of property” You admonish but Jimin shrugs before presenting it to you. You gasp slightly, shyly taking the flower from his hand. 

“They have thousands of them. I’m sure they won’t miss one. Besides, if I want to give my wife some flowers, I will give my wife some flowers” Jimin says. You suck in a breath at his words, your heart fluttering at his use of wife. You blush prettily, ducking your head and sniffing the flower, a soft smile on your lips. Jimin is suddenly struck by the familiarity of the situation. His heart swells at the situation and he simply can’t resist pulling you closer into him. Your eyes widen as you tumble into him, your husband catching you easily.

Before you can say anything, he swoops down, his head ducking and capturing your lips within his. Your eyes shoot open slightly before you find yourself melting into you, your eyes slipping shut. Jimin’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer into him until there’s not even a hair’s breadth between your chests. Your lips practically meld together, your hands running up his chest and wrapping around his neck. Jimin moans into the kiss, pulling you as close as possible, one of his hands entangling in your hair.

Moments pass slowly, your heart thumping in your chest cavity. Finally, when the need for oxygen burns both your chests, you both pulled away. Jimin’s lips linger next to yours, both of you panting, breath fanning each other’s faces. Your eyes slowly open, meeting Jimin’s. He bumps his forehead against yours lightly, eyes twinkling with something you hadn’t seen for a long time. He peppers kisses against the corner of your mouth, holding you close the entire time. You close your eyes against, breathing in his scent as a large, barely suppressed smile breaks out on your face.

For the first time in almost a year, you finally feel loved by Park Jimin.

It’s the last week of your third month of trying to work things out with your husband. 

Jimin sits in his office, flicking through the photos of your shop’s grand opening in Lotte Department Store. He smiles sadly, feeling incredibly maudlin and remorseful that he’d missed such an event. He scrolls through the photo album on Naver, stopping at a close up of you. You look almost as beautiful as the day he married you, dressed sophisticatedly and smiling at the press as cameras blindingly flash around you. You look perfect, completely poised and as if you were in your element. Which, of course, you were. His heart aches with emotion, both pride and shame swelling in his chest. He should have been there with you. He should have celebrated with you. He should have stood beside you, like you had with him when he’d opened his company.

He continues scrolling, eyes welling up at the one thing that takes away from the joyous occasion. In every single one of the photos, you have the most melancholic, somber smile on your face, your eyes reflecting a certain hopelessness. His throat closes up. He had done that to you. Tarnished and tainted a momentous milestone in your career with his selfishness.

He closes the article, unable to take the forlornness present in your entire demeanour. He lets out a little exhale, trying to collect himself. He didn’t have the right to feel guilty. He had done this to himself. Worked harder at his job than he needed to, started staying longer because of the merger. And by doing so, he had almost ruined his marriage. He’d slowly forgotten about you and the love he had for you, pulled away from you the months before he’d started his illicit affair.

There’s a sudden knock on his door, pulling him out of his musings. Jimin turns to the door, watching as Yoojin saunters in as if she owns the place. He frowns slightly as he takes her in. Now looking at her, he realised, she was completely different to his wife. She could easily pass for one of the women who modeled for you. She was incredibly beautiful, stunning even. But he was no longer attracted to her. There was no more allure surrounding her, nothing that made him want to pursue her. All in all, she wasn’t you.

“Where have you been?” Yoojin asks, taking a seat on one of his sofas.

“Right here, working. As you should be. Why are you here?” Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow. Why had he even begun his affair with her? Just because he’d spent some time away from you? Because he needed the company and she was easy? Because they’d spent so much time in close proximity? None of these seemed like good enough reasons anymore. God, he really was a weak, feeble man, he scoffed to himself.

“Do I need a reason to see my boyfriend?” Yoojin asks and suddenly he feels sick at her words. He thinks back to the day Yoojin had kissed him in his office. He should have pulled away. He knew he should have, but before he even knew what he was doing, he was already pulling her in for another kiss. Something that you had, apparently witnessed. Suddenly, he feels even more nauseous.

“Besides, it’s been almost three months I’ve seen you. Your soon to be ex-wife has been monopolising your time lately. Should I be feeling jealous?” Yoojin continues, tone playful and cocky. The minute ‘ex-wife’ leaves her mouth, Jimin feels despair crash through him. No. He couldn’t lose you. Wouldn’t lose you. Not when he was just finding you again. He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to end it.

“I’m not your boyfriend” Jimin says, voice slightly cold. Yoojin looks at him in surprise, a perfectly threaded eyebrows arched.

“Since when?” She asks.

“Since now. I can’t be with you” Jimin says curtly and Yoojin scoffs.

“What did your wife say? You’ve been spending so much time with her lately. Has she been putting thoughts in your head?” Yoojin asks suspiciously.

“No. She just reminded me how much I love her not you. She’s my wife and I don’t want to lose her” Jimin states and Yoojin glares at him.

“If I had known that bitch’s plan for you to try and save your marriage would have worked I never would have humoured it” Yoojin scoffs as she stands up. However, before she can even blink, Jimin is right in front of her, eyes boring holes into her. Yoojin lets out a small gasp, stumbling back at the rage in his eyes.

“That’s my wife you’re speaking about and you will respect her” Jimin seethes, unhappy with the way Yoojin had so casually insulted you.

“Yes, the wife you cheated on” Yoojin spits back, not one to back down. Her eyes were cold and calculating as she stared at him and Jimin reels. It was so completely different from the warmth yours radiated.

“Yeah. A mistake if I ever made one. One that somehow she is willing to overlook so she can save our marriage. She is a far better person than you and I could ever hope to be. But I love her and I want to save my marriage. So, this is it for us Cheon Yoojin-ssi” Jimin says, retreating back, his face turning passive and tone back to being polite. Yoojin looks affronted, grabbing her bag from the seat.

“Well then. Consider this the end of the merger too” Yoojin says haughtily, before stalking out of Jimin’s office. Jimin lets out a little sigh of relief, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his shoulder. He didn’t care too much about the merger, especially considering all the pain and suffering it had wrought on his marriage. It was more trouble than it was worth.

He quickly glances over at the clock hanging on one of his office walls. His eyes widen. It was almost six. He quickly gathered his stuff, dismissing his secretary before rushing out of the office and into the elevator. His foot tapped impatiently, waiting for the elevator to take him to the basement of the building, where his car was parked. He had to get home to you, the urgent need to save his marriage overwhelming him. For the first time in months, his head was clear. He loved you and he couldn’t lose you.

Practically running through parking lot, he quickly located his car. Checking his watch, he let out a breath of relief. Six on the dot. Which means, he had more than enough time to get to you. Jimin drives through the busy roads of Seoul, humming to the radio and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he navigates towards your shared home. He smiles softly, remembering the more frequent and prolonged visits with you. Passing by one familiar street, he finds himself double taking before slowing down as he drives past a familiar flower shop.

Before he can help himself, he finds himself turning down a road and parking the car in the spot he usually would. He swiftly gets out, briskly walking towards the familiar flower shop. He glances at his watch, almost running when he realises it’s almost closing time. He pushes the glass door with more force than he intended to, almost slamming it open. He’s suddenly hit with an onslaught of sweet, earth scents, the bell jingling violently to signal his arrival. The old lady that runs the shop, turns around in surprise, ready to send him away.

“We’re closing- oh! It’s you Park-ssi” The woman says with pleasant recognition.

“Hello halmeoni. Are you done for the day?” Jimin asks and the lady quickly shakes her head, walking up to him as quick as her old feet can take her before dragging him inside.

“For you? Never! It’s been so long since you’ve been here, I was starting to get worried” The old florist says and Jimin shifts on his feet, unable to look her in the eyes. It finally dawns on him why he stopped buying his wife flowers. He had stopped taking his usual route home.

Before, he used to drive the same way every day, passing by this flower shop only to be reminded of his wife. However, when he started meeting with Yoojin, he started taking a different route home. Guilt floods through him as he realises that he was, without a shadow of a doubt, completely responsible for your relationship falling apart.

“Is everything alright at home?” The woman asks kindly and Jimin is unsure how to respond. Was everything okay? Sure, things were definitely better, both you and him in a much better place in your relationship. But had you forgiven him for his affair? Would you be able to get over it? The three month period of you trying to save your relationship was slowly coming to an end. But Jimin didn’t want it to end.

Throughout the three months, you had somehow succeeded in saving your marriage. He had never wanted to be with you more than he did right now. He couldn’t believe he had almost lost you. But he now knew, that without a single doubt, he was completely in love with you. You were his entire world and he definitely wasn’t ready to throw away a ten year relationship.

“Everything… is fine. Sorry, I was just busy” Jimin finally replies lamely, not wanting to admit to the woman that he had almost destroyed his marriage with an affair. The lady smiles before slowly walking to a tub of flowers.

“That’s a shame. It was really sweet how you would drop by every Friday to buy flowers for your wife. Ah, such a sweet young love. It makes me miss my husband. Do you want the usual?” She asks, already assembling a large bouquet of roses and lilies. Jimin nods, feeling even more remorse at her words. It had been a sweet love. But he had almost lost it with his foolish decisions. He stands patiently, albeit slightly nervously as the woman puts the flowers together. Was this the right thing to do? It had been so long since he’d bought flowers home for you. Would you still be as reciprocating of them now, after everything he had done?

“There we go! Beautiful aren’t they? But I assume the woman receiving them is even more beautiful” The lady teases and Jimin blushes, nodding with a smile.

“The most beautiful of them all” Jimin says quietly and the lady grins at him, pushing the bouquet towards him.

“Well then, don’t let go of her! It’s so hard to find love these days. Couples are always breaking up and changing partners. And they’ve even stopped buying flowers” The lady tuts, Jimin feeling even guiltier. He had almost been one of those people.

“I will. I don’t think I ever want to let her go” Jimin says, determination lacing his voice. He grabs the bouquet, paying for the flowers and tipping handsomely before leaving the flower shop.

He rushes towards his car, not wanting to make you wait any longer. He glanced at his clock, grinning to himself as he realised he’d be home in time for seven o’clock. Starting the engine, he practically speeds home, his thoughts preoccupied with you. Pulling into the parking garage of your apartment complex, Jimin grabs the bouquet, antsy to get up towards you.

Long moments later, he’s finally at your door. Nerves build up in his stomach and he has to wipe his hands on the trousers or his suit from how clammy they were. Were you waiting for him? Or had you already had dinner? He wouldn’t blame you if you’d stopped waiting for him. It had been a long while since he’d made it back home at this time. He pulls his keys out of his pocket, hesitating for a short while, too tense to open the door. Was this okay? Was it okay for him to come home like this as if he hadn’t tried walking out three months ago?

Jimin takes in a deep breath before exhaling, trying to rid all his nerves. He had to do this. He couldn’t let himself walk away from you. Pushing the keys into the keyhole, Jimin enters the house. You walk through, surprise written on your face.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, heart quickening. Your eyes scan over his figure; he's still dressed in the suit from work, hair pushed back and exposing his forehead. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the hand behind his back. You suck in a breath, not wanting to get your hopes up. Was he doing what you think he was doing? Jimin shuffles from one foot to the other before slowly walking up to you, brandishing a beautiful bouquet of roses and lilies.

"Oh" You gasp out, swallowing thickly. You reach out with shaky hands, incredibly slowly, as if any sudden movements would spook him and cause him to disappear from your life again. You take them from him, bringing the bouquet up to your nose and inhaling deeply. The sweet, subtle scent of roses is almost drowned out by the strong, musky scent of lilies. You bite your lip before turning your gaze to him.

"You hate lilies" You say and Jimin's face crumples at the awful familiarity of everything. It had been so long since the two of you had done this.

"But I love you" Jimin croaks out, voice hoarse and heavy with emotion. You hiccup slightly, tears welling in your eyes. Jimin quickly walks up to you, taking you in his arms, one hand cupping your cheek. You sob, melting into his hand. Jimin traced his thumb along your cheek, wiping away the lone tear that managed to escape from your eye before brushing his thumb along your lips.

He leans down and captures your lips in his. You lean up, pressing harder into him. Jimin pulls away and you chase after his lips, not wanting to break away from him. He presses a short, tender kiss to your lip before completely pulling away, holding you at arm's length. He takes your hand in his and draws you to the dining table. You take a seat. The sight is all too familiar to you. It was awfully similar to the day he asked you for a divorce.

"Jimin?" You ask, unable to mask the worry in your voice. He shakes his head, taking your hand in his.

"Before we continue, I think we need to talk" Jimin says, despite the catch in his throat. This was going to be a hard conversation, but he knew he had to do it, so that you could both get passed this.

"Okay..." You say before quietening down. Jimin gathers every ounce of courage he can muster; taking in a deep breath he looks you straight in the eyes. You're almost floored by the amount of emotions in them. The long years of being with him had made you an expert in reading him. You could almost feel every single emotion that danced along his deep coffee eyes as if it were your own.

"I made a mistake. I shouldn't... I shouldn't have cheated on you. It was wrong of me. I started staying at the office later and later and slowly I forgot you and how much I loved you. That was wrong. It was even more wrong for me to look for those feelings in Yoojin" Jimin begins and you listen carefully, keeping your expression guarded despite the dread that sears through your veins.

"Jimin-" You begin, trying to cut him off but he shakes his head, gripping your hand tighter.

"Please. I know. I know you want to forget and you want to move on. But I can't move on without saying this, without apologising for how awful I've been to you these past months. You didn't deserve that" Jimin says, his words sincere. You nod and gripped his hand tighter, knowing that you'd both need the comfort each other offered. Jimin's face falls, wondering how you could offer him such comfort after all the hurt he caused you. He really didn't deserve you. Which only made this harder.

“I’m sorry for cheating on you. I’m sorry for hurting you like that when I promised that I would never hurt you like that. I broke our wedding vows and you should have left me the minute I asked you for a divorce. But you’re a far better person than I could ever be. I never imagined that you would ask me to stay and work things out. But I’m so glad you did” Jimin says, voice shuddering with emotion. Tears well up in both your eyes and you squeeze his hand, letting him know it was okay to keep going.

“These three months, despite how bad I was at the start, showed me how much I love you and how much it was my fault that we drifted. I can’t thank you enough for not giving up on me and for bringing me back. I love you. I love you so much. I’m sorry for hurting you and I know my words may mean next to nothing to you now, but just know that I will use the rest of our lives together to show you just how much you mean to me and how much I love you. Can… can you forgive me? Can you take me back? I want to come home to you” Jimin finally croaks out, tears falling down his cheeks.

“Can I ask for one thing?” You ask and Jimin is immediately nodding.

“Anything”

“Can we continue therapy? I think we need more sessions to work this out” You say and Jimin quickly nods, assenting instantaneously.

“If that’s what you want then yes. Just… please don’t leave me” Jimin begs. The shift of your roles are almost jarring.

You can’t deny how much he had hurt you in the past but if there was one thing you feared, it was losing your husband. You knew it would take much longer to get through this whole ordeal, but for now, you were just far too happy to have your husband back. You nod, instantly getting up from your seat and hugging him. Jimin’s shoulders slump as he feels your embrace around him. He pulls you into his lap, holding you close to his body.

Leaning down, you pull his lips into yours, pouring all the love you have for each other into the kiss. Jimin stands up, keeping your lips locked and guiding you towards your bedroom. He lays you down gently, taking in the way the moonlight floods through the window and illuminates your body, your hair fanned out on the pillow. He face softens as he once again leans down kissing along your jaw as he unbuttons your shirt-dress, before slipping it off your shoulder. His breath hitches, eyes trailing over your body, committing each nook and every contour of your body to memory.

“Fuck… I’d forgotten how beautiful you were” Jimin says, almost reverently as he continues taking in your body. You flush underneath him, almost wanting to hide. Jimin catches your hand, shaking his head.

“Don’t hide from me” Jimin says, crawling over you. He braces his arms on either side of you, muscles bulging in his shirt as he dips his head to pull you in for another kiss. Your hands roam over his chest, gripping his shirt and pulling him closer to you.

“I want to see you” You whisper against his lips, breaking the kiss. Jimin lets out a little smile before kneeling. You watch, unable to take your eyes off of him as his small fingers work the buttons of his shirt. Your breathing deepens as smooth, tan chest is slowly revealed to you, inch by inch.

“Strip for me Angel” Jimin orders as he begins unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his trousers. You break out of your trance, suddenly in a rush to undress. It had been so agonisingly long since you felt your husband that you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you once again.

When you’re both fully undressed, you both kneel on your bed, taking in each other. Your eyes trail over his body, longing to reach out and touch him. His cock twitches slightly, standing erect and hard, almost pulsing.. Jimin slowly shuffles towards you, laying you down once again. His hands move to your thighs, running along the skin, simply feeling you under him. You moan at his light touch, spreading your legs to accommodate him between your thighs. He peppers light, butterfly kisses along the column of your neck before brushing them against your collarbones. You arch at the touch, hands wrapping around his shoulder and nails pressing into his shoulders.

“Lemme make you feel good” Jimin says as he kisses down your chest. On his way, he lightly kisses each of your nipples before pressing a kiss to your sternum, between your breasts. Continuing his descent, he kisses and licks his way down your stomach. His tongue swirled into your belly button, making you gasp as his lips ghost over your skin.

He slowly spreads your legs, situating himself comfortably between them. His eyes trail over every inch of your nether lips, eyes automatically drawn to the slightly wet lips. He lips his lips before closing his eyes and pressing a soft kiss against your clit. You instantly gasp out, hands lacing into his locks. He peels your lips open before licking a swipe all the way from your dripping core to your clit. You shudder above him, letting him slowly, almost reverently eat you out. He pulled your thigh over his shoulder, giving himself better access. He pulled your clit between his plush lips, suckling on the bud. You moan throatily, rolling your hips into his mouth as your juices started coating his face. 

“You’re so sweet. Fuck, I have missed you” Jimin moans against your pussy causing your eyes to roll back from the vibrations.

“Please! Jimin, I need-” You begin to beg, but Jimin knows your body better than anyone else. He moves one of his hands, slowly pressing a finger into you. You groan as you’re filled up, grinding into his ministrations. It had been so long since you’d had someone else giving you an orgam that you could feel your end already nearing, far too sensitive at everything.

Jimin feels the way your pussy pulsates around his finger, adding in a second one and stretching you out. You’d only had your own fingers to keep you company and even then you were usually too heartbroken and distraught to even think about sex or pleasure. That was until now. Jimin’s fingers were thicker than yours and you groan at the feeling, loving the slight twinge of pain from the stretch. Jimin laps at your clit, trying to push you closer to the edge, loving the way you taste on his lips.

His eyes are trained on your face, captivated by your beauty, heart twinging at how he almost lost you. He slowly thrusts his finger in and out, scissoring your weeping pussy as he tries to stretch you out. He almost groans by how tight you’ve become, knowing he’d need to take it slow. He feels your end approaching from the way your cunt gushes and the way your breath quickens. He speeds his fingers up ever so slightly, angling them to brush against the soft spot inside you. You almost scream at the sensation, fingers digging into his head.

You’re panting now, mewling out his name over and over as you roll your hips on top of his. He slowly nibbles your clit between his teeth, forcing you over the edge. Your orgasm ricochets through your, legs convulsing on either side of his head. Jimin takes in the way you bite your lip, your eyes half lidded, pupils rolled back into your skull and the way you flush. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything more beautiful. Your back arches off of the bed as you gush around him, releasing your cum all over his face while you moan his name.

Waves of pleasure continue rippling through you, Jimin’s lips and fingers guiding you through your orgasm. The smell of your orgasm permeates the air, driving Jimin wild. He has to be in you and he has to be in you now. His pupils dilated, darkening with lust and want as he watched you come down from your high. He pulls away from you but not before pressing a kiss against your clit. You whine slightly at the oversensitivity, watching through hazy eyes as he crawls back over you.

“I love you” Jimin mumbles as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself. You practically licked his mouth clean of your cum before he pulls away, pressing his nose into your head, pressing a tender kiss against the temple as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo.

“I love you too” You whisper back, heart soaring at his affirmation of your love. Jimin slowly rubs the head of his cock against your lips, coating it in a mixture of your cum and his precum. You whine, thighs quivering at the sensation. Your arms lazily wrap around his neck as he lines up with your centre.

He pulls you in for a kiss, slowly guiding his cock into you. You break the kiss, back arching of the bed as you gasp against his lips as he slowly stretches you open. Jimin moves incredibly slowly, filling you inch by inch and allowing you to get used to him. Once he’s buried as deep into you as he could go, he stills. Pressing a kiss onto your lips, he takes in a deep breath, focusing on not cumming from how hot and tight you are around him.

“Move” You mewl, rolling your hips against his. Jimin slowly pulls out before pushing back in, in one single stroke. You gasp, throwing your head back, arms automatically moving to his shoulders, pressing your fingertips into the flesh and leaving little crescent shaped marks.

“I love you” Jimin whispers again, punctuating his words with another thrust. You want to say it back, but you’re too lost in the haze of pleasure. Jimin continues slowly grinding and thrusting into you, One of his hands removes the hand from his shoulder, entwining your hands, fingers locked with each other.

“Open your eyes. I want to see you. All of you” Jimin mumbles and your eyes slowly slip open. You briefly wonder when they even shut. Jimin looks down at you from above, eyes focused on you, love and adoration emblazoned in his dark eyes. You gasp out, feeling closer to him than you ever had. He squeezes your hand, pushing into you once again. He keeps the pace slow, drawing soft moans from you with every thrust. His agonising ministrations causes the coil in your belly to tighten once again.

“Are you going to cum again Angel?” Jimin asks and you nod under him.

“Just hold on a little longer sweet, I’m almost there. Fuck… you’re so tight” Jimin groans out, breathing laboured. His chest leans down, your soft breasts pressed against his taught chest. His head moves to the crook of your neck, burying his face as he suckles light hickeys into your neck.

“I’m so close” You groan out, moving your hips against his faster, more urgently.

“Fuck. Okay. Cum for me baby” Jimin says, one hand moving between your legs to rub your clit, the other squeezing your hand in his. The fingers on your clit send you overboard, stomach clenching and unclenching as your orgasm washes over you. You groan against him, squeezing his hand as tight as you could.

“Fuck. I’m cumming. You’re so tight. That’s it my love. I love you. My angel. My wife” Jimin mutters, pressing kisses onto your lips between each of his words. You whimper, velvet walls rippling around him. Jimin buries himself to the hilt, cock pulsing before he groans, releasing his cum deep into you. You mewl as his heat fills you up, coating your walls with his thick cum. Jimin lightly thrusts into you, you walls milking him for all he was worth.

He almost collapses on top of you, just barely catching himself by bracing himself on his elbows. You slowly come down from the euphoria of your orgasm, eyes slowly focusing once again. Jimin’s face slowly comes into view and you smile, biting your lip. You let out a little giggle at his flushed face, swollen lips and panting figure. You lift one of your hands despite the exertion, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. You lean up and kiss his nose, Jimin lazily smiling down at you.

“I love you” You whisper and Jimin nods. He slowly rolls off of you before pulling you towards his body, unbothered by your sweaty, hot figure against his. He kisses your temple, placing his chin above your head and tucking you into his chest.

“I love you too Angel” Jimin mumbles. You snuggle into his chest, letting his breathing and the rhythmic thumping of his heart slowly lull you to sleep.

The next morning, you’re awoken by your husband lightly pressing kisses into the back of your shoulder, his arm tightening around your waist. You lowly whine, still exhausted from the previous night. He giggles against your shoulder, softly pecking it again. You turn in his arms, facing him before sluggishly opening your eyes. The first thing you see is Jimin’s deep brown eyes, sparkling with nothing but love and affection, Your heart speeds up, eyes searching his face intently.

"Is this a dream?" You croakily whisper, almost afraid. Jimin’s heart grips at the fear lacing your voice. He shakes his head, pulling your hand up and kissing the pads of your fingertips before pulling you close.

"No. I'm yours. Now and forever"

a/n: high key this almost ended with reader and jimin getting that divorce but i grew TOO ATTACHED and could not end it like that, rip me... anyway!!!!! hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!

Mixtape Series | Masterlist

[belladxne]

i will see you where the shadow ends | chapter 8

[see notes for ao3 and ff links]

part of the put your faith in the light that you cannot see series AU: Breath of the Wild pairing: KiriBaku word count: 6,638

chapter 8: i think you should know this uncertainty has got me restless

Eijiro’s not really sure what he was expecting when he finally saw Aizawa. Inko had called him a young man—probably because, by comparison to her, he was—but she had also said he’d been one of Katsuki’s advisors one hundred years before. The end result was that Eijiro had had a completely incongruent mental image of him, something somewhere between, like, some mysterious Sheikah warrior in his late twenties, and a wizened, decrepit old sage with endless patience and kind eyes.

The Aizawa he gets is… not either of those things. Like, not even close.

Even in age, he’s neither young like Inko had said, nor as old as he logically should be if he was around a century before. If Eijiro had to guess, he’d put Aizawa somewhere in his sixties; the man seems old but not tremendously so, with a few spare wrinkles pressed into the lines of his face here and there, and hair gone white with age—only the leftover strands of black littered throughout indicating that his hair wasn’t always traditional Sheikah white.

But it comes down to a lot more than just his age. Eijiro’s kind of surprised that the esteemed leader of the Sheikah has such bloodshot eyes and disheveled… uh, well, everything. The faint, soft smile just barely tugging at the corner of the man’s lips is the only clue at all that the man’s expression is ever anything but unimpressed exhaustion, which just—isn’t what Eijiro would expect.

As his feet carry him further into the room, the man’s eyes drowsily close again and he shifts to scratch the area just below his left eye with his pinky, letting out a slow exhale.

“Judging from your silence, I’m going to assume you don’t remember me,” he says before his eyes sleepily blink back open—seriously, Eijiro has to wonder if this man has slept a day in his life—and Eijiro falters in his tracks.

“Um… no, sorry,” he shakes his head, biting at his lower lip in something like guilt. He—he hadn’t really thought before this about the fact that he probably should know Aizawa, if they’d both been around Katsuki one hundred years before. He hadn’t really sat still long enough to think about it, and now, as he studies the man’s face, for the first time thinking to look for anything familiar… he tries, but he finds nothing to recognize at all. “You’re—you are Aizawa, right? You—uh, Midoriya Inko? Said I should speak with you?”

Eijiro almost winces at how jumbled and awkwardly unsure it all comes out—but he hadn’t really sat still long enough to think about what to say, either. Aizawa’s eyebrows raise, eyes widening just slightly in surprise. Eijiro supposes that’s fair, considering— ...well. Considering.

“Well,” he says, his voice somewhat quiet. There’s something heavy masked in his tone, and he nods slowly. “I suppose that explains how you’re here. When we discovered the entrance to the Great Plateau caved in and blocked, we weren’t sure what could be done. It was too near Hyrule Field to justify an effort to clear the boulders—too exposed—and no one could put forward a more rational plan to get up to the plateau to leave you a message.”

Aizawa sighs, deep and honest, admiration and something a little more raw, more world-weary and mournful clear in his voice, “Midoriya Inko was a remarkably compassionate woman. I suppose it doesn’t surprise me that if anyone were to make a way to help you, it would be her.”

It’s… hard for Eijiro to think of her as dead—weird, even with the fact that she’d revealed it herself before he left the plateau. It just doesn’t click in his mind, on so many levels. Maybe it’s that most of the time they spent together was under the pretense she was alive, or maybe it’s that it’s such a surreal notion to think that the one person he’s spent the most time around since awakening wasn’t even living, or maybe it’s something else entirely.

Whatever it is, hearing her spoken of in the past tense is unsettling and—just—feels wrong. Sharp teeth poking at his bottom lip, he nods slightly, unsure how to respond. How to even begin to express just how much help she’d been, just how kind she was. Aizawa, for his part, doesn’t seem particularly interested in waiting for an answer, though, already pulling himself back to the topic at hand.

“While your memory loss is likely going to prove problematic at some point, for now I think we should consider it a blessing in disguise.”

Eijiro’s jaw drops, incredulous. “Wha—how?” His lack of memory grates at him, constantly—an always-present weight on his mind whenever he does or doesn’t recognize anything. It makes him feel so—so—frustrated and lost; the only connection he even has to who he is is Katsuki’s voice calling to him from the castle, and he still doesn’t even remember what the prince looks like.

He’s adrift and clueless, and it’s supposed to be a ‘blessing’?

A weary huff escapes Aizawa, who levels him with his surprisingly intimidating stare. “As our crown prince was particularly fond of telling you: you, Kirishima Eijiro, have always been exceedingly reckless. I have little doubt that if you remembered everything, you would already have made an ill-advised attempt to raid the castle, without stopping long enough to listen to reason.”

Eijiro doesn’t particularly want to tell him that he already can hardly restrain himself from doing exactly that. Pouting slightly, his gaze drops a little as he mutters, “Inko told me I shouldn’t.”

“And she was able to get the advice out before you’d already charged off, a fact we can all be grateful for,” Aizawa responds. Resting both his hands on his knees in front of him, the man releases a sigh. “But more so than that, there’s the nature of your memories to consider. The Calamity one hundred years ago… the events that passed were catastrophic, and for those left who lived it, to even bear the memories of what we’d seen is an unimaginable weight. To bear what you endured, Kirishima… I wouldn’t wish it on you, or anyone.”

Inko had said something to the same effect when she’d finally begun to explain things to him—he’d been unable to hold it against her at the time, but hearing the same sentiment echoed now, he grits his teeth.

He wants to—to yell, kick things, throw a tantrum if there was half a chance it might make a difference. He has to have that right, doesn’t he? To demand why everyone thinks they can decide for him what he can and can’t handle—especially when it comes to knowledge about his own self.

It’s just—it’s not fair. None of this has been fair and he’s starting to get sick of it.

As though the man can sense his line of thoughts, Aizawa leans forward, giving him a pointed look.

“Our first priority will be helping you recover your memories, Kirishima, and I am already dedicated to helping you do so to the full extent that I am able, but for now, I think we should be grateful that any time it takes you to remember will be time you can spend bracing and preparing yourself. The horrors you experienced are not to be taken lightly.”

Lips pressing together, Eijiro’s brow furrows. His hands fidget with the hem of his tunic in irritation, but... the assurance that Aizawa will help placates him some. The frustrating truth of the matter is, he trusts Inko completely and totally, and she had thought the same of how potentially overwhelming the news of what had happened to him could be—and if she trusts Aizawa to help him, he has little choice but to accept the man’s judgment. However begrudging and incomplete that acceptance may be.

“If—then—” Not for the first time—far from the first time—Eijiro has so many questions he can’t sort through that he doesn’t even know where to start, his words halting and stumbling over each other in his attempt.

They’re distracted before Eijiro can decide where to begin, however, by a faint creaking behind them. Eijiro turns, and he and Aizawa both direct their gaze to the entryway, where the little girl stands, fingers curled around the doorway as she peeks in with wide eyes. Eijiro feels the brunt of his stressed dissatisfaction drain, slightly, now that the tension has been broken by the interruption.

“It’s all right, Eri,” Aizawa calls to her gently, inclining his head. “You can come in and listen.”

She hesitates a moment or two, still seeming somewhat skittish, before she slips past the door, moving closer to Eijiro.

“Eri, this is Kirishima Eijiro. You remember the stories I’ve told you about him?”

The little girl—Eri—nods, gaze flicking to Eijiro once more as she edges closer to him. Again, he tries to give her his friendliest and most encouraging smile despite his lingering frustration. He thinks, maybe, she seems at least a little emboldened as she continues to approach him. Little victories.

“Kirishima, this is Eri. We rescued her from the Yiga Clan not long ago, and I’ve been taking care of her since. I trust I don’t have to tell you to be patient with her during your time in Kakariko Village.”

“Of course,” Eijiro responds with a firm nod, before turning again to the little girl, beaming. “It’s nice to meet you, Eri.���

She flushes, nodding quickly and looking down at the floor as she grabs again at the hem of her tunic. The Yiga Clan… it’s another piece of knowledge that does come back to him when he thinks. They were—are—a group that splintered off from the Sheikah. His memory of history more or less seems to be intact, because he can remember, somehow, that the Sheikah clan had been scorned and shunned by a Hyrulean king thousands of years ago. Out of... fear of the advanced Sheikah technology that had since been buried, he thinks?

Most of the Sheikah had decided to give up their technological advancements and hide them under the ground, but some of them had resented the king turning on them. Those were the ones who had formed the Yiga Clan, a merciless group dedicated to bringing back All for One and bringing about the deaths of its enemies.

Which meant Katsuki, and him. He manages to avoid his expression twisting in distaste, unable to picture a clan like that as being the most nurturing of places. From what he can imagine, and what he can gather from Eri’s easily frightened nature, it’s a very good thing they’d gotten her out.

“Returning to the matter at hand,” Aizawa says, directing Eijiro’s attention back to him. “You’ll know by now that one hundred years ago, the kingdom of Hyrule was destroyed. Prince Katsuki’s last action before returning to the castle was to demand you be placed in a sacred slumber in the Shrine of Resurrection, to save you. His intention was to go alone to face All for One, and hold him off until you were healed, but Midoriya Izuku was here when he arrived.”

Eijiro nods, brows tugging together guiltily as his gaze fell to the floorboards. “Inko told me—told me he went in my place, because he was also a chosen of Farore.”

“Eijiro, look at me.” Aizawa’s voice is firm, and Eijiro has a hard time finding reason to refuse such a stern demand. Reluctantly, he presses his lips together and lifts his head, to meet Aizawa’s gaze. Some of the exhaustion there has ebbed, replaced with something a little more fierce.

“Neither of them were under the impression that Midoriya Izuku could take your place, nor did Midoriya believe he was obligated to undertake this burden due to some nonexistent failing on your part. Do you understand?” His tone leaves no room for argument, expression steely and unyielding. “They were under no illusions that even the two of them together could do more than buy time for your return, but that is a choice they both made, on their own—and it is neither your fault, nor something they bear any resentment towards you for. Those are the facts of the matter. Do not allow yourself to think any differently. It’s hardly rational to martyr yourself over this. You’ve already done more than most others could ever have accomplished.”

Gritting his teeth once more, Eijiro’s fists clench at his sides as he tries to bring himself to agree. Inko and Aizawa are both so insistent that he’d gone above and beyond, but he can’t remember that, can’t see any proof of it in the devastation of a kingdom he can’t even recall the heyday of. The only thing he has evidence of is that he’d fallen.

Before he can argue or force himself to accept Inko and Aizawa’s words, there’s a tugging at his waist, surprising him out of his thoughts. He blinks, looking down to see Eri’s hands wrapped tentatively around the Sheikah Slate, eyes wide and a little pleading.

“Oh, uh—” He lifts his head to look to Aizawa, unsure, but the man inclines his head in assent, so Eijiro shrugs and manages a smile directed down Eri’s way, helping her unclip it from his belt. “Just... be careful with it, okay?”

She nods adorably seriously, clearly taking his words as a matter of grave importance, before beginning to poke around the Sheikah Slate with so much confidence it’s like she’s an old pro. Eijiro watches, impressed, and it dawns on him in the moment that he might need to rethink his prior judgments on babies using Sheikah Slates, before the matter at hand tugs at his attention once more.

He doesn’t know if he can bring himself to really believe Aizawa, but it’s all beside the point.

“But...” There’s a furrow in his brow and an uncertain flex to his hands, no longer fisted tightly at his waist, as he tries to get his bearings. “Either way I have to help them. I’m—they’re running out of time, and I’m the only one who can do this, right? So how… if I can’t go to the castle, how am I supposed to help them? Inko said—said you’d know what steps to take?”

Aizawa nods, and Eijiro will concede that even if this haggard, overworked-seeming man is far from what he’d expect from a confidence-inspiring leader, or a trustworthy advisor, there’s something to the man’s demeanor.

He speaks as though his words are indisputable, tone almost bored in the thorough assurance that he’s voicing the only logical conclusion to be drawn from all the facts at hand. It makes it hard to question or deny what he says, and the calm, methodical way he carries himself makes it hard to panic. Eijiro can see why the Sheikah would trust him to lead them, why a royal family would trust him to advise.

“The only reason Prince Katsuki risked his life returning to Kakariko at all was to entrust me with a message for you. I’ve been holding onto the words he intended for you for one hundred years.”

Eijiro finds himself holding his breath as he waits for whatever could be such a grave message, wondering what could possibly be the kind of thing he couldn’t tell Eijiro himself. This—it has to be what Eijiro’s looking for, the thing that’s going to give him some—direction, finally.

He’s had no idea what he’s doing, what he should be doing, since he woke up. It feels like he’s had nothing to cling to but confusion and a sense of hurry up and wait—the urgency of being told that Hyrule needs him and that Katsuki and Izuku have been fighting his battle for a hundred years, and the maddening hindrance of being told he couldn’t even go do anything about it yet. If Katsuki left such an important message, he has to know what Eijiro can do now. He has to.

Aizawa seems to be examining Eijiro as he weighs his next words, but before he can finally give Eijiro the answer he’s been looking for—a small, confused sound interrupts them.

“It’s broken,” chimes a tiny, unfamiliar voice at his side, and Eijiro blinks as he looks down at Eri, realizing this is the first time he's heard her speak. It doesn’t register for another couple seconds that she must be talking about the slate still resting in her hands, as she frowns down at it.

Alarm fills him—how can it be broken? It’s practically the only way he got this far, and it’s Katsuki’s—Katsuki had said he’d need it to get around, he can’t have gotten it broken already.

Resisting the urge to snatch the device out of a literal six-year-old’s hands to confirm, Eijiro looks back to Aizawa for—for—well, he doesn’t know, but maybe some reassurance, or indication that the man just assumes Eri doesn’t know what she’s talking about, or anything. Aizawa isn’t looking at him anymore, though, and his expression is anything but reassuring. Eyes slightly wider and posture suddenly straight, in a manner that would have looked like alarm on any marginally more emotive man, Aizawa’s gaze is fixed on Eri.

“What do you mean, Eri?” he asks, managing the urgency Eijiro can just barely hear in his tone admirably—for Eri’s sake, presumably.

The girl frowns at the slate in her hands, looking first to Eijiro, and then to Aizawa with the most minute furrow between her brows. She has the runes screen open—all of a sudden Eijiro’s doubting the wisdom of letting a little kid handle a device that can make bombs—but before he can process the concern, she answers.

“Aunt Emi’s takes pictures.” She taps what looks like an empty rune slot on the screen, to the right of the cryonis symbol. There’s a spark of confusion in Eijiro’s mind, but then he almost lets out a sigh, because if that’s the only thing wrong with the slate then he still has all the things he needs—but Aizawa leans forward with a grim intensity that makes him rethink that.

“Is the album still intact?”

Eri shakes her little head, but begins operating the slate with effortless familiarity once more, switching to the map screen before confirming, “It’s not there.”

Aizawa hisses something under his breath that Eijiro has the distinct impression is a curse, and Eijiro’s eyebrows lift slightly. Aizawa runs a hand through his hair, expression drawn together in serious thought.

“Is...” Eijiro hazards, voice tentative as he glances between Eri and Aizawa again, “is that something I’ll need?”

It’s another moment before Aizawa returns his gaze to Eijiro, racing thoughts having apparently run their course. “For most parts of your mission, the album will be a frivolity that has no impact.” He pauses, and his tone leads Eijiro to expect the but. “But it serves a far more important purpose in the grand scheme of things.” Swearing under his breath once more, Aizawa leans back wearily.

“I can’t in good faith expect you to undertake any of the grave challenges laid before you if you can’t even remember for yourself the importance of what’s expected of you. If you have any desire to recover your memories, that album was meant to be your greatest asset.”

Eijiro’s eyes widen, a flash of distress sweeping through him. “Wh—but I can get my memories back without it, right?”

Aizawa’s lips press together in a tight line, and again there’s an uncomfortable pause before he sighs. Posture drooping, he drapes his forearms across his lap and all at once Eijiro gets the impression of the past century weighing physically on the Sheikah. “If we’re being rational, we have no guarantee that you can recover your memories at all. The intended purpose of the album was to aid in that process, but there are very real possibilities that you could get your memories back without it, or that even with it you may never remember at all. What’s important is not to panic.”

And it’s rich—it’s so rich of him to say that, as if that is not one of the most panic-worthy things Eijiro has heard since waking up.

“But I—I—” His words fail him, and how could they not? How could he possibly be expected to put into words how badly he wants to remember everything about a voice that isn’t even familiar to him? Maybe it’s just because Katsuki was the first contact he had after waking up, but Eijiro hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it—about Katsuki, more than any of the other blanks in his memory that plague him every second of the day.

It’s unbalanced—he’s important to Katsuki, he knows he is; he can tell just from the way Katsuki talks to him. How can he be content to know there’s immeasurable history behind every brief conversation they manage to have, when he can’t even put a face to Katsuki’s name? How can he be content doing that to Katsuki?

“Kirishima—” There’s the faintest note of impatience in Aizawa’s voice, but then he stops, seemingly catching himself, and when he continues, it’s with a tone minutely more gentle. “Eijiro. It’s pointless to work yourself up over a scenario that may not even come to pass. You won’t do yourself any favors by giving up hope just because there’s a chance you won’t remember. And as for the album, there’s still a chance it can be restored.”

Eijiro lets out a shaky breath, still trying to calm himself. It’s not that Aizawa’s not helping, not that his words don’t have any effect, but he can’t just turn it off.

“Okay,” he manages—though his voice isn’t as firm or as certain as he’d like. “Then, what would I need to do?” His gut still roils with unease, faintly, despite his efforts to let Aizawa’s words comfort him, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to deal with—with any of this if he can’t cling to his own next steps, to what he can do about it.

Aizawa nods, either acknowledging or approving of his attempt to focus his efforts, and the man swiftly seems to gather his thoughts. “You’ll need to take that slate to my colleague, Fukukado Emi, in Hateno Village. She’s been studying this technology since before the Calamity, and she knows more than anyone else in the kingdom about the slates specifically. If there’s a way to restore the album, she’ll either know it or she’ll find it.”

Okay… Okay. This is doable, if what Aizawa’s saying is true. Eri still holds the slate in her hands, so he can’t look at the map, but he tries to do the math from memory—not counting for the distractions and rest in the middle, it had only taken him about four hours on horseback to reach Kakariko from the horse stable, and Hateno had been about… maybe twice as far from the fork in the road?

If he leaves now—doesn’t let himself get distracted along the way—he can be in Hateno maybe a couple hours after sunset, give or take, he could—he could maybe even have the slate fixed by—

“You’re already getting ahead of yourself.” Aizawa’s sigh cuts through his thoughts. “While your eagerness is written all over your face, so is your exhaustion. And don’t think I’ve missed that glaring bruise on your head or the way you’ve been favoring your left leg.”

Eijiro flushes, something between embarrassment and shame, and he opens his mouth to protest—Aizawa’s already shaking his head wearily.

“I understand that the position you’re in is frustrating, but it’s better you understand now—there is no way to save Prince Katsuki in a matter of days. There is no way to save him in a matter of weeks. The task laid in front of you is too monumental for that, and to approach it sensibly will take time. With how long this will take, you will have to learn patience eventually, and it will be better for you to do it now, when your recovering body will need it most. Have I made myself clear?”

Eijiro feels his face twisting in aggravation, eyebrows drawing together and a pout tugging at his lips. There’s a few moments of silence in which he meets Aizawa’s flat, unimpressed stare, and then a huff escapes him. “So… what, then? I’m supposed to just—sit on my hands, or something? Do nothing despite what’s going on in the world?”

“You’re supposed to take the time you need,” he responds, eyes closing as he blatantly attempts to maintain his own patience. “You will have to get stronger to conquer any of the challenges put before you, and continuously throwing yourself from task to task without allowing yourself even a moment to heal from your injuries will only weaken you. Take the day to rest, get a long night’s sleep in a real bed, set out after you’ve recuperated and not before.”

Eijiro’s hands flex and clench at his sides, and try as he might he can’t make the tension drain despite his sigh. “Sir, I don’t think I can just—sit around that long.”

“Nor do I expect you to. There’s hardly a shortage of things to do in the village in the meantime. If you’re really at such a loss what to do, you can start with sitting down. No doubt you have countless questions about yourself, and the world. I’ll try to answer them for as long as I’m able.”

That—Eijiro had been so frantic to figure out what he needed to do, he hadn’t even thought of all the questions that have been threatening to burst forward like a flood since—since Katsuki had first spoken to him, really. So many that he’s never been able to figure out which to ask first, and, to be fair, he doesn’t think he’s been able to just… sit and ask them all, yet. No one’s been capable of answering them, and there’s always something else to do.

Scratching idly at the skin beneath his eye, Aizawa pushes on, offering more options to fill his day.

“I’d recommend acquainting yourself with the people in the village, it will be good practice; with limited travel and communication, there’s no one person alive who can tell you all of the evils All for One has unleashed in this kingdom. Speaking to those who will have had to coexist with those evils will reveal far more to you than I can, and it’s important to remember that there are problems on a lower scale than All for One itself. There is a fairy fountain on a hill that overlooks this village—it would be wise to touch base with her, in the event she can aid your travels. And if you’re truly incapable of taking it easy for an entire day, the village has an ancient shrine that you may be able to access.”

Done with his list, Aizawa blinks tiredly at Eijiro, gaze flat. “There should be more than enough to amuse you in the village for one day, but I will remind you again not to strain yourself, so I don’t have to confine you to the village for another day.”

Eijiro takes issue with that—it’s not like Aizawa can really stop him from leaving, but… “I… fine. You… you’ll really answer all of my questions?”

The Sheikah nods. “As many as I’m able, for as long as I can keep awake. The pains I took to ensure I would be alive for this day were effective, but they are, unfortunately, exhausting.”

Eijiro hesitates, curious and concerned. How much of a strain did he have to undertake on Eijiro’s behalf? “What… what did you have to do?”

“It’s hardly anything to write home about, to be frank. I thought I told you to sit down.” The last part is delivered in a slightly more stern tone, and Eijiro blinks, flushing just slightly as he hurries to do so. Seemingly satisfied, Aizawa deigns to answer in more detail. “The Sheikah have been pledged to Bakusatsuo for longer than we have been pledged to his descendants, the royal family. The result is that we’ve always had a special relationship with his first domain—time.”

With a heavy breath and the faintest hint of a shrug, the older man continues, “It’s likely I would have been alive to see this day even had I not taken special precautions; time has always been kind to the Sheikah, and not in a metaphorical sense. Oftentimes our people are blessed with exceptionally long lifespans. But there is also a sacred practice, cultivated and passed down since the first of our kind used it to aid Bakusatsuo in his first human incarnation: a meditative trance that slows our aging even further.”

Aizawa grimaces just slightly. “As I said, it’s nothing exciting, nor is it any sort of taxing process. But the meditation cuts into many of the hours that should typically be spent sleeping. I catch sleep when I can get it, so it will be best not to waste much more of my few waking hours if you’d like most of your questions answered.”

Nodding slowly, Eijiro finds himself fidgeting slightly, gnawing on his lip with pointed teeth. “I… Man, I honestly don’t even know where to start.”

Aizawa tips his head in acknowledgement, seemingly unsurprised. “That’s fine. Fortunately, we have time.”

“Oh, man!”

Eijiro jumps, slightly, at the sudden exclamation from beside him, jerking his head around to stare at its source—he hadn’t even heard anybody enter; it’s like the guy had melted right through the floor or something. It’s a little jarring, since everything about the man’s appearance is, well, loud, from his distinct posture and animated expression, to the bright blond hair he sports in an ostentatious gelled up style, to how boisterous his voice had been.

And yet Eijiro hadn’t so much as heard a door hinge or floorboard creak.

“I guess I shouldn’t bring your lunch for you, huh, sir?” he asks, cartoonishly blue eyes twinkling like he’s sharing a joke. “I don’t want to be responsible for you falling asleep with your face in your rice again!”

Aizawa’s apparently too tired to dignify that with a response.

The guy has a point, though; for the last half hour that they’d spoken, Aizawa’s eyes had drooped closed more often than not, and several times Eijiro would almost have genuinely believed he’d finally fallen asleep for real were it not for the Sheikah gesturing lazily for Eijiro to continue with whatever he was saying.

“Togata,” he acknowledges, sounding barely half awake. “I’ll eat later. This is Kirishima Eijiro.”

“Yep!” Togata responds, not skipping a beat. “Eri told me all about it.” He turns to Eijiro, then, as Eijiro rises quickly to his feet, and Togata smiles wide and offers an enthusiastic bow. “Togata Mirio! Honored to meet you.”

Eijiro’s mid-bow when the words register, catching him off guard. His cheeks heat up and he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck as he flounders for an appropriate response. “Oh, I—I mean… I’m just a guy, man.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily. “But that just makes you even cooler, though, you know?”

Aizawa takes this moment to slump down in the haphazard pile of cushions and blankets that reside on his place of honor—not very traditional, but then, he doesn’t seem like a traditional guy—and the rustling pulls their attention, saving Eijiro from having to figure out how to respond to that.

“Togata, show Kirishima around the village. It would probably do him well to see what help the Great Fairy can offer him, as well. Just make sure he takes it easy, and if he tries to leave the village before a full night’s rest, I give you full authorization to stop him.”

“Sounds threatening!” Togata chirps, distinctly lacking any sort of hesitation as he stands up straighter and salutes. “You got it, sir.”

Eijiro takes offense to that order, glancing back and forth between the two, but Aizawa seems to have passed out the moment he finished speaking so he can’t even protest the lack of faith. Or the attempt to decide for him what he should do. He huffs, and Togata claps him on the shoulder, steering him towards the door.

“Come on, hero! Let’s see the sights.”

The sights turn out to be, well, not really much, but Eijiro wasn’t actually expecting much, to be fair. Togata walks him through the village, chattering the whole way about this and that. He’s kind of an odd duck, going on the strangest of tangents and making some of the most out there remarks, and he talks not just with his hands, but with his whole body. He seems to like to emphasize his words with an entire rework of his posture here, a full gesture with both arms there, a bizarre stance thrown in from time to time.

In short, he’s great. Weird on the disarming side instead of the offputting side, and his quirks just make Kirishima all the more comfortable chatting back, and getting fired up himself.

The first set of important landmarks, if you can really call them that, mostly gain their notability from gossip surrounding them. Togata introduces him to a Haya Yuyu standing outside an archery supplies shop, explaining cheerfully that she’d gotten the part-time job there because she’s the best archer in the tribe these days, but she can’t stand to actually work inside the shop because the owner spends all her time loudly and openly lamenting her failing marriage and the fact that her husband has abandoned his own archery.

Miserably, Haya shushes them, her voice low in pitch and volume as she laments, “It’s all day. ‘Show me your form, Haya. My husband’s form used to be like that.’, ‘Do you think you could hit that shot, Haya? My husband used to make shots like that without breaking a sweat.’.”

She sighs, heavily, then looks to Eijiro. “Look—pretend you didn’t hear this. Buy some arrows. I get paid for convincing people to shop in there, and I’m saving up to buy something cute for Nejire.”

“Ooh!” Togata chips in, “She’ll love that.”

“Oh, um.” Eijiro has no idea who Nejire is, nor has he taken a moment to count how many rupees he’d stumbled on in monster camps or hidden around the countryside. He does distinctly remember finding some hefty sums hidden in long-abandoned chests along the way. “Yeah, I’ll see! Once I check how many rupees I’ve got, I’ll make sure to stop by.”

“Thank you,” she replies, emphatically, before slumping down on the veranda that wraps around the shop. Togata gives a chipper wave, before once again steering EIjiro away with a hand on his shoulder.

The next place he shows Eijiro is the general store, where apparently you can find most goods from the town except for their famous fortified pumpkins—the owner’s husband, fond of growing swift carrots, is in an ongoing feud with the man who grows the pumpkins, and won’t let his wife sell them out of pride. It’s all very amusing, Togata assures him.

After that, he shows him the inn where he’ll be staying, points out a plum orchard apparently fiercely guarded by a sweet old lady, and then guides him to a dining area beside the general store. A girl maybe around nine is manning the cooking pot there, as Eri and another Sheikah girl who looks a little younger sit nearby. Togata introduces the two as Koko and Cottla, and merrily asks what’s cooking as he sits Eijiro down with the younger girls and helps Koko finish preparing lunch. Togata seems to be a natural at entertaining kids, wide gestures and silly expressions drawing delighted reactions from all the girls. Even Eri, who still seems reserved in company, watches him with starry eyes.

Koko and Cottla, who seem much more bold than Eri, are very curious about Eijiro and pelt him with questions he does his best to answer through mouthfuls of food, but Togata does a good job of keeping the conversation focused on all of them. He treats all of the events and concerns in the girls’ lives as just as grave and pressing as the topics he and Eijiro have to contribute, and Eijiro has to admit, it’s delightful to watch.

Once lunch is finished and Eijiro and Togata have helped the girls clean up, Togata makes sure Eijiro is aware of the small shrine to Bakusatsuo across from Aizawa’s home, the location of the armor shop, and the cucco coop now looked after by the infamous husband of the archery shop owner, before pulling them to a stop at the foot of a hill just up the road.

“Just up there’s the shrine, and past that is the fairy fountain. Y’can’t miss it!” He claps Eijiro on the back and gives him an enthusiastic shake for good measure, grinning. “I’ve got a shift patrolling for monsters and Yiga, but I’ll see you at dinnertime. Don’t leave the village or else, right?”

Eijiro shoots a glance at Aizawa’s home, muted irritation trickling back in at the reminder, but when he turns back to respond to Togata’s ribbing, he’s just gone. Eijiro whips his head around, trying to figure out where he went, but there’s no sign of him. Maybe the guy does just melt through the ground.

Regardless of how he does it, that’s how Eijiro finds himself making the trek up the hill overlooking the northern edge of the village alone. The path then winds into the hills a little further, steep inclines starting to cut off the view of the village as he passes the shrine and climbs further into a wooded area. What would a Great Fairy fountain look like? He just has to hope it will stand out as much as Togata assumed.

Eijiro yelps as suddenly two—creatures? Small, and bunnylike, and glowing blue with… antlers?—startle at his presence and bolt through the underbrush, and he thinks, You know what, yeah, okay, that kind of weird shit is probably a sign of a Great Fairy. Eyes now peeled for the strange or unusual, he picks his way through the woods and—there, a flash of pink.

He makes for that, woods parting to reveal the glimpse of pink as one of a few small, glowing fairies that scatter when they notice his presence, and—

—And what the hell is that?

There’s—it’s—he’s face to face with what looks to be the biggest flower bud he’s ever seen, twice as tall as he is, closed up tight with massive thorns dotting its outside. It’s, uh, definitely a sight he can’t miss, and though he can’t really say it looks like a fountain, he gets the feeling from the fairies that had swarmed around it and the unmistakable ramp made up of vividly orange fungus leading right up to its base that, well, he’s probably in the right place.

Hesitantly, Eijiro sloshes through the clear, pristine water that pools shallowly around the bud, testing his weight on the odd platform. It holds beneath his weight, so he takes the couple of steps to stand before the plant—fountain?—and… realizes he has no idea what to do here.

He lifts a hand uncertainly, but before he can do anything he’s startled by the sound of splashing and shifting, muffled from… within the plant? Then suddenly the seam between two of the leaves making up the tight bud before him push apart just slightly, and—holy shit, that’s an eye the size of his whole face peeking out at him inquisitively from the gap.

“You’re not Yuyu! Or Mirio. Or Eri. Well, now I’m curious!” chirps a bright, resounding voice, and Eijiro thinks, Oh, boy.

[planetjisungie]

pain but make it beautiful- p.js

characters: quidditch player! jisung, hufflepuff! jisung, ravenclaw! reader ft. hufflepuff! jeno, hufflepuff! mark

an; uh this is the first of the nct dream hogwarts au series and mark doesnt have a hogwarts au so i gotta get him into all of them somehow

"come on y/n you have to talk to him at some point, im sick and tired of you staring at him like a lost puppy" jeno drawled, commenting on the way you were currently staring at park jisung, the star player for hufflepuff. he was currently sat on the hufflepuff table- where jeno should be- talking to his own friends. "i am not staring at him i am merely observing him" you replied back with a slight scowl on your face. the tall boy had caught your attention since the time he messed up in Slughorns potions class 3 years ago. the slight infatuation then developed into feelings after you started watching him during matches and practice from the window of the medical room where you were madam Pomfreys assistant, mainly for extra credit. "yeah sure you were. you know if youd just talk to him then maybe youd find out he is always staring at you in potions when you arent looking. youre both so oblivious it pains me" jeno let out an exasperated sigh, slouching in his seat and laying his cheek on the arm resting against the ravenclaw table. "excuse you, hes probably staring at sienna. theres no way he would even notice me" you muttered, discarding your half eaten toast slathered in nutella back onto your plate before standing up. "now, i have to get to the medical room to wait for the quidditch match to begin"

jisung watched as you left the hall, hair slightly blowing behind you along with your robe as you took quick steps. his eyes followed your figure, tuning out the conversation of the rest of his fellow hufflepuff players until you disappeared from his sight. "hey, park, are you listening or just staring at your girlfriend?" his captain elbowed him making him jolt before whipping his head to face him. "huh?" but before the captain could tease him any further, a disheartened and slightly irritated lee jeno flopped down on his seat at the hufflepuff table. "if one of you doesnt fucking confess in a week im grabbing your necks and forcing you to kiss" he seethed, glaring at jisung whos eyes had widened. "no way! shes y/n l/n, princess of the ravenclaws and practically untouchable, im just park jisung who likes to play quidditch" he quickly turned down even the thought of confessing. at his total obliviousness, the whole table groaned, slamming their heads onto the table.

later that week, you were sat in the medical room, jotting down extra notes for your potions and herbology classes. hearing the door to the room creak open, you turn your attention from the words neatly written in your notebook to the entrance. masking your shock and worry with a smile, you stood up and walked towards the captain of the hufflepuff quidditch team who was supporting an ill looking jisung. "you two okay?" you asked, your stare on jisung lingering a little longer before looking towards the captain who had a frown on his face. "jisungs got the flu, conveniently before our match against slytherin next week" he explained, watching as you cleared up a bed for jisung. "oh, im so sorry you must be feeling awful" you said softly to jisung who wanted to say something in return, but his throat was too sore to even swallow. wincing at the painful sounding cough he let out, you nodded towards the captain. "i’ll take care of him mark, dont worry" you sent him a smile to try and ease any nerves he had about this. after all, a match against slytherin with their star player either benched or feeling sick and unfocused throughout the game would not end well. "thank you so much y/n, youre really a god send" mark sent you a final smile before jogging away, leaving you to tend to the poorly boy. you got jisung to lay down, specifically in the bed that was next to the window so he wouldn’t get too bored. not that he could get bored with your pretty face to stare at, that is. "jisung just get some rest, when you wake up i’ll still be here so if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask" you said gently, already filling up a cup of water and placing it on the table next to him. "t-thank you" jisungs deep raspy voice attempted to show how grateful he was, but he was utterly horrified at how weak and feeble he sounded. you couldnt help but feel sorry for the boy as it definitely sounded hoarse and painful. sending him a nod, you went back to your work, where you spent a lot of the time glancing back at the asleep boy across from you.

when jisung had woken up, you were in fact still there. it was apparently the morning, so he had slept all night. seeing the boy sit up in your peripheral, you got up from your work and headed to him. you had actually gotten sleep last night, hoping he didnt wake up before you got back and apparently the gods were on your side that day. "how do you feel?" you asked him, already grabbing the Pepper-Up potion from the cabinet. "a little better. my throat doesnt hurt as bad" his voice wasn’t exactly ill-sounding anymore, but he did sound kind of croaky which was mosh likely from not talking for so long. nodding in response, you handed him the Pepper-Up with a small smile on your face. "well then, if you take this you should be good to go by tomorrow," then you pouted, "but it was nice having some company here rather than just me" you sighed. jisung chuckled, and you seriously felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest. it wouldn’t surprise you if he could hear it to be honest. "i’ll miss being here too. the view is nice and its relaxing to not be surrounded by loud boys" he said, trying to avoid your eyes as eye contact was something he wasnt ready for yet. thinking he meant the view from the window, you turned to look out it with a smile. "it is rather beautiful" you uttered breathily. jisung stared at the side profile of your face, softened and smiling as you looked out onto the forest and mountains. "gorgeous" he quietly agreed.

the rest of the day you had spent just talking with jisung as you wrote even more notes. you and him were both glad that you could finally talk to eachother, first without any of your friends teasing you, and second because the situation kind of forced you together so it would be awkward if you didnt talk. he had found out little things about you that made his heart melt, such as your cat that was called mr snuggles, your pet sugar glider that you kept at home which was called mr cuddles and how you had a love for all animals, leading to your dream of becoming a veterinarian. he had also found out your undying love for small things and how you always looked so cute talking about them, your eyes sparkling. similarly, you had found out about his little sister that he would do anything for, his owl that was just called hoot which you found both adorable and hilarious, and how it was his sister that basically made him start playing quidditch, just wanting to make her proud. you had also found out about how clumsy he was, after immediately tripping on air after getting out of bed to sit closer to your desk, sending you both into a fit of giggles as he had pink dusted on his cheeks. it was safe to say the two of you had become closer during his stay in the infirmary, and when he had to leave, you had immediately missed his presence.

during the days before the slytherin match, you and jisung would greet eachother in the halls, and you switched deskmates so he sat besides you in potions now. his team and jeno couldnt believe their eyes when they saw you two walking to the hall together for dinner after you had had potions last period. so naturally, when you waved and smiled at jisung from the ravenclaw table, and he winked in response, jenos jaw dropped. "since fucking when did you two get close?! my prayers have finally been answered, about bloody time!"he very animatedly said, waving his arms around for exaggeration. "he was like the only person in the infirmary, so he became my friend i guess" you had shrugged to jeno, but you couldnt stop the wide smile pulling at your lips.

when the match had finally arrived, you firmly put away your books and sat in the stands, as madam Pomfrey had told you to watch from outside incase any players would fall. bounding towards the hufflepuff stands, you slid in next to jeno, ignoring the looks you were getting from the other hufflepuffs considering you were literally on the wrong stand. "you come to watch your boyfriend?" jeno smirked, nudging you with his elbow. cupping your hands to your cheeks to hide the bright red glow from the comment, you stamped on his toes harshly, smiling at his screech of pain. "shut up and lets watch" you glared at him before cooling down and removing your palms, turning to face the field as the players all filed onto it. jisung searched the audience for you, finally finding you waving at him like crazy making him grin happily. mark patted the boys shoulder. "lets have a good match so you can show off to your fiancée but make it girlfriend" he joked, jisungs cheeks turning a similar colour to yours previously as he shoved marks back.

the game started, and you grew increasingly worried at the violent plays of the slytherins, though it was to be expected. the hufflepuff team however, had managed to easily come back into play after every brutal shove, or chase, giving them both an equal shot at winning. "well this is an interesting match" jeno lifted a brow, leaning forwards slightly so he could get a better view. "on god if they hurt jisung im putting them all in the infirmary myself" you said, leaning back and looking at the slytherin team, very unimpressed by their dirty plays.

"you won!" you giggled, jisungs own laugh reverberating around you, his chest pressed against yours sending vibrations into your own. grabbing his cheeks, you stared him in the eyes before smashing your lips onto his. the crowd only seemed to cheer louder, jisungs frozen arms slowly wrapping around your waist, tilting his face and kissing back. jeno and the quidditch team let out whistles, reminding you that you were in public. a wave of embarrassment hit you, and you buried your face into jisungs chest, the sound of his rapid heartbeat matching your own.

[minghaocouture]

Pairing: Templar!Kim Mingyu x Elf Mage!Reader Genre: Dragon Age AU, enemies (?) to lovers, angst, established universe WC: 5k+ Warning: magical lobotomy (through branding), language

A/N: So this is for @merakiiverse job au collab! I’ve been wanting to write a Dragon Age au for like...ever, and this just gave me the push I needed. So there are some terms from the game used in the fic but I did my best to explain them without taking away from the story. Also really glad i finished this before i got sick lol. 

“Come on wake up!” You groaned, slapping away the hands of your best friend as he tried to shake you awake. You had gotten to sleep pretty late last night, having snuck into the circle library to do a bit more reading after hours so you were trying to bask in the last few minutes of sleep before your lessons today. 

You heard a loud groan from the younger male before everything seemed to turn upside down and your frame was sent tumbling to the stone floor of the Apprentice Quarters with a loud thud and a shriek. Your eyes snapping open to glare at your dear friend Chan with his hands still gripping the mattress that he had just thrown you from. 

Quickly you shoved your palms against the chilled stone flooring to push yourself up, as the male laughed hysterically and dropped the mattress back onto the simple wooden frame of your bottom bunk. 

“Chan, I want you to remember that we are trapped in this tower together for the rest of our lives. So I will be getting you back for this.” You muttered angrily as you brushed off your scratchy white sleeping robes that the circle had provided for you. Fueled by frustration, you quickly fixed up your bed so that the senior enchanters wouldn’t be angry with you for making a mess. 

“Hey come on, don’t be like that!” He quickly exclaimed, offering you some assistance with fixing your bed if only so he could get on your good side once again. It’s usually what he would do to try and get on your good side, things like taking your cleaning duties or distracting the templars so you can sneak into the libraries at night. “I woke you up for a reason!”

“And what would that be?”

“They brought in new templars, fresh new faces for us to make fun of!” He made a good point. During your extended stay in the circle Chan and you had taken to picking at the Templars that were assigned to ‘guard’ the tower, well the Templars that wouldn’t immediately attack or detain you for your teasings. You shuddered as you remembered being thrown into the cramped cell that was used for solitary confinement. 

“How many this time?” You questioned, pulling your daily robes from the chest at the foot of the bunk beds that you and Chan shared. You swiftly stripped yourself of the uncomfortable white material of your night robes and slipped on the navy blue skirt, once again curious as to why the skirts had such delicate embroidery on the hem if they were simply to be given to mages. Maybe it was something to make your people think they were in a higher position than they were, either that or a small ‘oh here are some pretty robes, we definitely consider mages people!’ kind of thing. You weren’t too sure. 

Chan took a seat on the bed as you tied the skirt to fit your waist, he wasn’t bothered by your disrobing at this point. After all, the two of you had been in this tower since you were children and it wasn’t like the tower offered much privacy for any of the apprentices. If you wanted that you would have to pass your harrowing, only then would you receive private quarters.

You struggled with your skirt for a moment, it being far too big for you, but it wasn’t like they made new robes for every apprentice; everything you owned was a hand me down from either a senior enchanter or...a tranquil. 

“There were four of them, they all looked like they came right from training too. No old farts this time,” He explained, lounging on your too thin mattress as you slipped the top piece on, the long sleeves and thick fabric felt just as suffocating as it did every day, and it also continued to show your status as a lower being in the eyes of these people. The small gold trim wasn’t as nice as it was on the human’s robes, and you were sure that was the point. It was something that looked nice, but not as nice as the human mages robes that Chan wore. It wasn’t enough that your mage abilities make you a lesser being but your elven blood as well, you were certain that the Maker had a sense of humor when he made you. 

With practiced ease you tied the laces of your sleeves around your wrists before working on the clasps of your belts. It was a constricting and suffocating outfit that made you feel quite claustrophobic at times. As if the robes were just as bad as the tower itself.

“Well, I guess let’s go check them out. Gotta let these newbies know that not all mages are just gonna let them walk over us.” You tried to seem optimistic but after being in this tower for almost 16 years, it was a little harder to force that smile sometimes. Which was why you were grateful you had Chan with you, the two of you looked out for each other no matter what happened.

He hopped off of your bed and took a firm grasp on your wrist before pulling you out of the shared apprentice chambers, ignoring the strange looks from the templars and other apprentices as the two of you dashed into the hallway on the first floor of your prison. 

The two of you peered around the corner into the entrance hall as you watched the initiates be inducted by Knight Commander Greagoir, the head of your captors, he was telling them all about their duty to the citizens of Ferelden and the Chantry, all that nonsense. It was basically just propoganda to make these people feel like they had the right to place themselves above you.

The new initiates weren’t too impressive, once again all humans of course, because the precious Chantry couldn’t trust elves such as yourself to become Templars. Most likely because elves would be more likely to opposed the confining of people just for circumstances of their birth, at least the ones who weren’t already brain washed into believing the Chantry’s inane teachings. That thought always reminded you that even if you weren’t trapped in this tower, you would simply be in an alienage in one of the many towns around Ferelden, another prison. Elves simply weren’t welcomed or free anywhere, at least not in a human society. There were surprisingly three women and only one male this time, which was abnormal because women seemed to stray more towards becoming Chantry sisters than Templars. So that was interesting, you’d have to figure out their names. The only interesting thing about the male was his ridiculous height. He looked almost tall enough to be a member of the Qunari, all he was missing was the horns, or at least you assumed since you had never seen a Qunari in real life. 

If only you knew what would follow this day.

***

“You know, you aren’t supposed to be in the library after lights out.” 

You almost screamed in surprise at the unfamiliar voice. You knew the schedule for the Templars and usually you were able to skirt around and hide whenever it was time for their rounds to reach the libraries. Apparently tonight was determined to be different. Glancing up from your book you flashed the Templar a sheepish smile, instantly recognizing this man as one of the new initiates whose name you had yet to learn. It wasn’t exactly...forbidden but initiates were definitely encouraged to not give their name to the mages or learn the names of the mages either, it was probably so they didn’t connect that you were real living beings and develop a conscience. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I said I had an incurable illness that causes me to sleep walk around the tower, would you?” You were likely to be in deep shit because of this. Knowing how new recruits were, usually the super brown nosing type, they wanted to make superiors happy so that they could get promotions. Unfortunately for you, that usually meant getting mages into trouble.

Knowing this was probably why you were so shocked to hear the giant male snort, in an attempt to hold back a laugh. In all the years of living here, you hadn’t met a Templar who actually laughed at your jokes or smiled at you...like this male was doing right now. He glanced over his shoulder looking towards the opening in the shelves that hid the two of you from view. This library was almost perfect for hiding, the rows were like their own little hallways with bookshelves that almost reached the ceiling which was perfect for blocking the light of your candle when you were here at night. He must be checking to make sure that none of his co-workers had entered the library after him. 

Soon his attention was back to you, a small boyish smirk on his faces as he spoke. “Well I suppose I’d ask you to tell me about this terrible illness, is it contagious? I’m not sure the other mages would like it if I was roaming the halls in my sleep.” 

You were once again dumbfounded by this human. You wouldn’t expect him to think about what would and wouldn’t upset the mages, usually the Templars just did what they wished with no regard for those they were meant to be watching over. 

“No, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t like that. Lucky for you, I was born with it just like my hideous magic.” You didn’t truly believe that your magic was horrible. If everything was done by the Maker for a reason, then so were mages! People were just taking Andraste’s “Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,” thing a bit too far. 

“I don’t think your magic is horrible. It’s a gift from the Maker! The Maker doesn’t give bad gifts,” He confessed, quite a controversial opinion for a Templar to have. With one more glance over his shoulder to make sure that the two of you were still alone, he pulled out the chair across from you and took a seat.

“I’m Mingyu. What’s your name?” 

***

After that fateful night in the library, Mingyu and you kept in contact but only in the dead of night and only when he was scheduled to patrol the first floor library. Tonight was one such night.

“Chan is getting suspicious, ya know?” You mentioned, laughing softly from your seat at the table the two of you frequented. He raised a brow at you and tilted his head slightly, his lips jutting out in a small pout. He honestly looked pretty adorable like that, nothing like the fearsome Templar act he had to put on during the day. 

“He thinks I’m shaking up with another apprentice and not telling him.” 

“Imagine the look on his face if he knew you were just hanging out with me.” Mingyu retorted, going to rest his cheek on his palm only to remember that he was wearing his gaudy templar armor and deciding against it. This caused him to pout more and for you to laugh, making sure to keep your volume down so you weren’t caught by anyone else patrolling the area.

A silence fell over the two of you as your laughter subsided. It was here where the two of you were illuminated only by candlelight that you felt safe. That was something you weren’t used to feeling. In the Circle, there was a constant need to watch your back and be on your guard just in case some random Templar got pissy because you ‘looked at them funny’. It was a struggle for survival.

These nights were different though. You could almost imagine that you weren’t locked inside this tower you could dream about possibly being free and in the outside world that you vaguely remembered. Hell, how long had it been since you had seen the sun?

"How long have you been in the Tower?" 

The question was innocent enough, but it definitely threw you off guard. It wasn't something you liked to think about often. It had been so many years ago and it wasn’t exactly a...pleasant memory.

"It's been...I think about 17 years almost? I developed my magic when I was around 6 years old and my mother was very devout. So she turned me into the chantry, saying that the Maker had frowned upon her and her family by giving them a Mage for a daughter." It hurt a lot thinking back on the day that your mother had abandoned you. Her pleas to the Chantry mothers, begging them to take you as she also begged for the Maker's forgiveness. Thinking she had obviously done something wrong if she had given birth to a mage. 

You watched a frown set it self onto his face, obviously not having expected to hear such a thing. Most parents went so far as to hide their children from the Chantry, making them apostates, illegal mages, so that they wouldn't lose their precious bundles of joy. Just like Chan's parents. They had fought tooth and nail to keep him when the Templars came, it even cost them their lives. Chan didn't like talking about it but you knew that he still had frequent nightmares about that horrible day.

"What about you?" You questioned, diverting the attention from your situation and onto Mingyu. "Why did you become a Templar? I'm sure being a regular knight would have been just as nice, if not easier. At least knights aren’t also stuck inside the Circle tower." It may not have been a prison to the Templars, but they were still trapped inside these halls as well. Most weren’t really able to leave either unless they were going to visit their families, and even then that was rare.

He chuckled dryly at your words and shook his head.

"Something we have in common, I suppose. My family is also very devout, very deep into the teachings of the Chantry. All the men end up becoming Templars if they can. It's in our blood. So of course, as soon as I was old enough to hold a sword I was sent off to training to try and become the best Templar the Kim line had ever seen." The look on his face was one of melancholy, one that you recognized as a look that you had seen on other mages. The look of someone trapped in their own fate.

"Guess we're...kinda in the same boat, huh?" You gently nudged his arm that rested on the table with one of your fist. It was a small gesture, but one with meaning for both of you. Reaching out he gently, or as gently as he could while wearing full plate mail, took your extended hand in his own. The cold metal was a stark contrast against your heated skin, causing you to shiver lightly. He gave a small squeeze and a tiny smile made it’s way onto his face, as if he had been comforted by your words. 

You felt your heart stutter for a moment, watching the features of his face in the candle light. It was still for a moment before he released you hand and stood from his chair. 

"I should get back to my patrols before any other the others get suspicious. I'll leave a note in our spot when we can meet up again."

You were moments away from responding but stopped short as he leaned down and pressed his lips softly against your forehead. You were stunned still and silent as you watched him pull away, smiling at you once again, before slipping off into the night. 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared after him in shock. Your face flushed with heat, and you knew that Kim Mingyu would be the death of you at this rate.

***

"I hope this doesn't offend you but...what is so bad about being made Tranquil?" 

You winced slightly at his words, the thoughts of the Tranquil always frightened you. Of course, being a Chantry boy, he had been told from a young age that being made Tranquil was a mercy for mages. Because if you were Tranquil then at least you were alive. It was all a lode of rubbish. Instead of just answering his question, you decided to ask one of your own.

"Do you know Owain? The Tranquil who runs the Circle stock room?" He nodded slowly, unsure of where exactly you were going. "I arrived at the tower before he was turned. He was a kind man who took me under his wing and helped me adjust to life at the tower. I was very young and so very scared, but Owain had basically turned into a father figure for me. I cared for him so much." You felt tears prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over as you recalled the man you once knew. 

"One morning, a few years after Chan had been sent here. I had to have been around 11, well we woke to find Owain standing in front of the stock room just like he does now. Only he was no longer the kind, father figure I had grown to love. He was so cold, lifeless. Being made Tranquil isn't a mercy to mages, it's taking every part of them that makes them who they are and ripping it away." You tried to keep quiet, but the more you spoke the more anger and fear bubbled in your guts. You had barely even registered that you had begun crying.

"You become a lifeless husk that holds the shape of who you used to be."

You couldn't bring yourself to look up from the table, to watch the emotions that were surely playing out on his face as he watched you cry. You were surprised at how silently he had moved, because you were soon pulled to stand and held tightly against his armored chest. It wasn't too comfortable because of the plate mail he constantly wore, the metal poking into your skin and it reminded you that while this embrace was comforting...it was also dangerous. Against your better judgement, your arms quickly wrapped around him and pulled him closer as you tried your best to keep your cries quiet. As you sobbed you heard him whisper soft nothings to you, but one stood out from the rest.

A promise that he would never let you be made Tranquil.

***

It wasn't long before those soft forehead kisses from before became kisses of passion. Soon you didn't need the candle light as your guide as you followed the curves of his body under his armor. Things changed quickly, and before you knew it two years had passed and you were hopelessly in love with Kim Mingyu. Something that should have never come to pass.

You were certain that at least First Enchanter Irving knew, he somehow knew everything that happened in the Circle Tower, and while you weren't a very religious woman, you found yourself praying to the Maker that Knight Commander Greagoir was still clueless. Unfortunately the one person you wanted to talk to about this was the person you were most determined to keep in the dark. 

Lee Chan, your best friend.

"You should tell him." Mingyu, gently caressed your cheek, his gloves had been taken off long ago as the two of you lounged in your usual spot in the library. Your meetings had gotten farther and fewer between as he rose in the ranks of the knights and you stayed a simple apprentice. 

If you were being honest you were a bit worried about that as well, but Mingyu assured you that it was nothing to be concerned about. 

“Oh sure, that’ll go well. I can picture it now. ‘Hey Chan, you know the Templars who watch our every move and are sometimes ordered to strip us of our entire sense of self, yeah I’m in love with one of them. The tall lanky one that has been trying to joke with you, yeah the one you complain about all the time that’s him’.” You chuckled to yourself as you thought about his reaction to that, and not really realizing what you had just admitted. Not until you glanced over at Mingyu and found him staring at you dumbfounded. 

“You love me?”

You froze, like a A million thoughts raced through your head, all of the best and worst possible outcomes. What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if this was just fooling around? What if he said he could never love an elf and he had just been using you? What if, what if?! Your heart thudded loudly inside your chest as you stared at him, unable to enunciate the way he made you feel.

Luckily for you all of those what ifs were cut off as his hand grasped the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss filled with such fire that you could almost feel yourself being burned. Everything he wanted to say was trapped inside this kiss, you weren’t alone with your feelings and this kiss told you all you needed to know and more. 

After a string of long, intense kisses that you were almost certain would lead to another round of light touches and soft moans, he pulled away. His forehead pressed against your own and a large almost blinding smile was plastered on his face.

“I love you too.”

***

You stared at the small flame of your candle in silence, he was late. Usually he was exactly on time, never early and definitely never late. It was too dangerous otherwise. Your stomach was in knots at the thought of what could possibly be keeping him. That’s when you heard the sound of armor clanking against the stone flooring, almost like the person was running. Since you weren’t entirely sure it was him, you quickly blew out your candle and slid under the table to hide. 

The footsteps got closer and your heartbeat seemed to be almost as loud as the steps themselves. You only relaxed at the small call of your name. The familiar voice had you out from under the table in record time.

“You scared the daylights out of me Mingyu, I was worried something had happened.” You confessed, using a small bit of your magic to light the candle’s flame once again. The light gave way to the terrified look on his face, streaks of tears stained his cheeks, and you found yourself running to his side to wipe away the fresh batch that was threatening to spill out.

“Mingyu, baby what’s wrong?” You whispered, doing your best to comfort him by taking his hand in your free one and using the other to gently caress his cheek.

“We need to go. The Phylactery chamber, we need to find yours. I need to get you out of here.” His deep voice cracked as he tried his best to control his tears. He looked so frightened and pale even, despite his tanned skin. Your heart sunk as you thought of your Phalactery, the vial of blood that had been taken from you when you arrived and was stored inside a chamber with all of the other apprentice’s. It was the templar’s way of tracking you if you had ever escaped, and was the biggest reason you had never attempted to escape the circle.

What he was suggesting was crazy though, there was no way the two of you would be able to storm the Phalactery chamber, there were two locks and it required a fully realized enchanter to unlock one of them and you...had yet to be called for your Harrowing. So you tried to console him. 

“Baby, what are you talking about? You know we can’t do something that crazy. If we get caught you’ll be kicked out of the order or worse, sent somewhere like Aeonar. Why are you ev-”

“They want to make you tranquil.” 

Your heart stopped at his confession, eyes going wide as your blood chilled within your veins. Subconsciously you took a step away from him in disbelief, you didn’t question the legitimacy of his words because you knew for certain that he wouldn’t lie to you like that. Not when he knew your fear of being made Tranquil. You watched as he stared helplessly at you and began speaking once more.

“Knight Commander Greagoir thinks that...he thinks that you might be a blood mage. Even suggesting that you- that what we have is because of a demon’s influence.” He took a step forward to close the distance between the two of you, taking your hand back into his own. He liked holding your hand, he had said in the past, it made him feel loved so very loved.

“I know it’s not. I tried to talk to him but he...he wants me to perform the rite. Which is why we have to get you out of here!” 

Your mind seemed to be going a million miles per hour but also seemed to stop all at once. Your limbs had gone numb as you stared blankly at the floor in terror, you weren’t sure what to do. If you ran on your own then they would just send Templars to find you and with your phylactery, it would be quick work and both you and Mingyu would end up dead. If you followed Mingyu’s plan, you would most likely be caught and turned Tranquil anyway only with this route he would also be punished for his crimes. Lastly, If you stayed, you would be made tranquil at the hands of the man you loved. There was no winning in this situation, there was never a winning choice for a mage.

You pulled your hand from his grasp, causing a small pained sound to leave his lips, breaking your heart as it did so. 

“You have to do it…”

“Y/N no! We talked about this I won-”

“We don’t have any other choice!” You cursed yourself after your outburst, though at this point you weren’t sure you could get into anymore trouble. “If you got caught you would never be able to see Minseo or your parents again!” You had spoken of his family in great detail before, and you couldn’t bear to know that he would never see them again just because of his attachment to you. 

You didn’t want to be made Tranquil, but you also didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. This was the only option where at least one of you would be able to keep living freely.

Thinking about the fact that your days were now numbered scared you, the numb feeling from before seemed to linger but you couldn’t find it in yourself to cry. Not now, not when you had to seem like you were certain of your decision. He needed that from you.

So you swallowed your terror and gently cupped his cheeks in your hands.

“You have to do this Mingyu. There isn’t any way of getting out of this. Not that will actually work.” You muttered, voice soft as you kept eye contact with the male. You felt his hands reach up and rest over your own, and took solace in the fact that what the two of you felt was real. At least for a little while longer. 

“If it’s you...it’s okay.”

You had never lied to Mingyu before, but...this seemed like a good time to start.

***

The grip on your forearms was sure to form bruises, but at least after this you wouldn’t feel them. 

You stared before you as the branding rod held in Mingyu’s tight grip lingered over the open flame, making sure that the metal would be hot enough to etch itself into your skin. 

You couldn’t stop the tears that fell from your eyes, and you had sure tried. You knew that seeing you cry could cause Mingyu to hesitate, falter or even flat out refuse the order which would make this all for naught. At that moment, you felt so hopeless. Everything you had worked for, everything you had lived for would be coming to an end. All because of that simple, unassuming brand that your lover held. 

At the command of Greagoir, he moved the brand away from the flame and stepped towards you. Reciting the Chant of Light as he did so. It was supposed to bring comfort to the mages and remind them that this was the Maker’s will, you found the words mocking even coming from Mingyu’s lips.

“Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.” His voice strained as he spoke the Chant of Light, it broke your heart to hear him in such pain. His grip on the haft was so tight that you were almost certain that the metal of the rod would break.

“Foul and corrupt are they who have taken his gift, and turned it against his children.” His armored footsteps echoed against the stone flooring. Tears threatening to spill as he stepped closer to you. You felt the grip on your arms tighten as his fellow templars held you in place. 

“Remember, that...that this is a mercy.” 

With those last broken words escaping him, he lifted the sunburst brand and held it above your forehead. You saw the heartbreak burning in his eyes, and he hesitated refusing to move the brand any closer to your forehead. 

Your eyes met his and watched as he desperately tried to keep his composure. You forced a small pained smile onto your face, and that seemed to be the only thing he needed. Not a second later, the metal pressed against your forehead and sparks of blue lyrium seemed to burst forth as the sunburst brand stripped away every bit of emotion you had to replace you with a husk that could no longer connect to the fade, to magic. A husk with free will but a husk nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry.”

[mistymark]

VIGILANTE/S V

part five // 4.0k words // superpowered!au // (sort of) gang!au // series masterlist

summary; in which you consider yourself somewhat of a vigilante.

warnings; swearing, mentions of death, weapons and killing, gang shit really

notes; this is just a filler bc the whole thing ended up being way too long but !! hope u like anyway <33

One week into living in the warehouse, you’ve got your own routine. You know what times to avoid the bathrooms, you know not to eat Chenle’s cereal – a tip from Donghyuck, who informed you that Chenle once set him on fire for doing just that – you know that Jaemin is the only one who cooks breakfast, and most of the meals eaten in the warehouse are from local takeout stores with shifty delivery guys. You know that 15 pizzas are ordered for one meal – because Jaemin eats at least 5 of them.

“My metabolism is crazy,” he explains to you on your third day there. “I’ll be hungry again in, like, 2 hours.” Mark had laughed and said that was normal for anyone here.

Donghyuck had whispered to you, “Jaemin carries around jellybeans all the time for his blood sugar. If you want to piss him off, call him Jelly Baby.”

You know that every time Jaemin is given an assignment, he brings a girl back to the warehouse, something you’d discovered when you saw Jeno sleeping on the couch in the main room the next day. You know the boy named Renjun doesn’t train, and hardly leaves his room. You know that Donghyuck sometimes snores in his sleep, now that you’re sharing his room, which actually hasn’t been so bad.

Jaehyun had you move in together the day after you met him, and he’d been really nice about it, moving half of his clothes from his wardrobe so you had space, and boxing up most of his stuff to allow more space for your things. He’d even offered to take down his sketches and drawings so you had some wall space. It was a sweet gesture, but you found his posters interesting, so you told him to keep them up.

Doyoung had gone with you to empty out your apartment – not that it had much in it – and convince your landlord to break your lease. “Your landlord has a very weak mind,” he’d said in a monotonous tone, when he was carrying a box to his car, a flashy black thing that certainly did not belong in your neighbourhood at all. The dilapidated, crumbling buildings surrounding you were brown and dirty, the streets grey and filled with potholes, the people who inhabited the area looking just as worn. Doyoung, on the other hand, was clean and sharp, wearing fitted black jeans and a clean white tee. His shoes were almost as shiny as his car, which made you feel slightly self-conscious when you noticed how much he stood out here.

“He’s pretty much given up on life,” you’d agreed, which earned you a smirk from him. It was true, your landlord was a chubby, pot-bellied man who wore nothing but baggy, ill-fitting jeans and old t-shirts with various food stains on them. You’ve never seen him leave the building, and you often wonder if he knows what a shithole the place is.

“I can’t believe you actually lived here,” he looked up at the building, at the brickwork that was being held together by mould rather than concrete, at the wooden window frames that were rotten and splitting apart, at a window that was recently broken, now being blocked by a curtain taped across the panel – at the place you once called home.

Well, not necessarily. It hadn’t felt like home since your dad had died, if you were being truthful.

“You live in a warehouse with criminals,” you reminded him.

“We live in a warehouse with criminals,” he cracked a smile at you, taking the box from your hands and placing it in the boot of his car.

“At least my roommate only kills himself,” you mumbled on the drive back.

“Donghyuck wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Doyoung laughed. “He’d probably kill himself if a fly started a fight with him, just so he wouldn’t have to fight it and win.”

You watched the buildings go by – Doyoung drove slower than the elderly, you were sure – and all the industrial warehouses with cute, bright signs advertising children’s toys and courier services, wondering how many of them were a front for another operation, like Jaehyun’s. “Do you think Donghyuck can die? For real?”

Doyoung was silent for a moment, then, slowly, he said, “We have our speculations. We can’t know for sure, though. And none of us really want to.” You gave a small smile to him, though he was too focused on the road ahead to see it. When you’d first come to the warehouse, you were sure no one liked him, since no one seemed devastated by the fact that he was dead. Now, you knew he was family to them.

“You have a cassette player?” Donghyuck was supposed to be helping you unload your stuff into your now shared room, but he was mostly just being nosy, going through your boxes and not actually putting anything away.

“Uh, yeah,” you throw a glance over your shoulder, seeing Donghyuck sitting on his bed, rifling through one of your boxes. “It was my dad’s.”

He nods, gently putting it on the bed. He doesn’t ask any questions about it, or your family, which you’re grateful for, but it makes you think he doesn’t have any family of his own.

You know Donghyuck is the most open out of all of the team, but you also know not to ask any personal questions.

You know a lot of things after living in the warehouse for a week. You know that Jaehyun drinks tea in the mornings and coffee at night, that Doyoung cannot access Chenle’s mind. You know that Donghyuck is definitely not a morning person, and that he exclusively wears black, as if he’s always ready for a funeral. Maybe that’s exactly the reason; some kind of sick joke surrounding his immortality.

Most importantly, you now know how to survive Johnny’s training sessions. You’ve trained with most of the team, mostly the Shields – Jeno, Jaemin, Mark and Chenle – as their powers manifest physically, and are easier to control, but Johnny has also been helping you use his ability. “You’re smaller and weaker than the rest of the team, and most Shields in general,” he’d said, eyes roaming your body. It was the first time anyone’s ever looked at you like that without making you feel objectified. “If I’m around, my ability may be the difference in whether you win or lose a fight. Try again, and focus on me.” As if you already weren’t.

He’d hunkered down and gestured for you to begin. With the other members around, you could take Johnny down in less than a minute now. Alone, it took you upwards of 10 minutes.

The day you officially move into the warehouse, you’re exempt from training with the Shields, but Donghyuck takes the opportunity to teach you gunmanship.

“I’ve used a gun before, you know,” you say, but after 10 shots you still haven’t managed to hit the target. The firing range isn’t small, located in the basement of the warehouse, which you didn’t even know existed, but you should have been able to at least hit the target once.

He laughs, picks up the gun and nails the target’s centre 5 times in a row, “So have I. Do you want to be able to actually hit your target, though?” The hole in the centre of the target looks about twice the width of the bullet, made from the bullets hitting basically in the same spot each time.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, adjusting the position of your shoulders, then places one on your lower back, adjusting your posture. You’re stiff, and you know it. He clears his throat and steps back, “Go.”

You brace yourself and shoot, the bullet going straight through the target’s stomach.

“Not too bad,” he nods in approval, holding his hand out for the gun and easily changing the clip in three quick motions. He offers the gun back to you, “Again.”

“You sound like Johnny,” you say when you take it from him. You deepen your voice as low as possible to mimic your trainer and the short, efficient way he speaks, “Again. Stop. Go. Try again. Up.”

Donghyuck lets out a loud laugh that immediately brings a smile to your face. “That was amazing.” He sits down and leans back, a hand pressed against his stomach as he laughs, mimicking your imitation. You join him on the floor, resting your back against the wall and leaning over to grab the bag of potato chips he’d brought down with you. “Have you ever shot someone?”

He reaches over and steals a few chips, as if it was the most normal question in the world. But, there’s a slight shake in his voice when he speaks, “Shot? Yes. Killed? No.”

“Who?” He shoots you a sideways glance and you lower your head, “Sorry.” No personal questions.

The heavy stench of awkward silence settles over you. He breaks it, “Johnny.”

You don’t know what to say except, “Shit.”

“Yeah,” he swallows thickly. “It was an accident. Obviously.”

You’re about to ask what happened when you’re interrupted by someone coming down the stairs. Neither of you had bothered to shut the door to the firing range, giving anyone going up or down the stairs a full view of what you were doing. Jaehyun stops when he sees you both, sitting on the floor of the firing range, sharing a bag of potato chips. He doesn’t look at you, focusing on Donghyuck. He clears his throat, “Are you training, Hyuck?”

Donghyuck’s eyes are wide and innocent when he answers, “Teaching Y/n how to shoot.”

Jaehyun’s eyes move from the two of you to the target and back again, but he doesn’t say anything about the lack of holes in it. “Johnny’s ordering Chinese – if you want anything, let him know. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

He continues and you turn to Donghyuck, “Where’s he going?”

“Garage,” Donghyuck says, through a handful of chips. “Do you want the rest of these?” He offers the bag to you. You shake your head.

“What else is down here?”

“Weapons vault, garage, the range,” he answers distractedly, too focused on getting the last of the flavouring from the bag. “The gym…” his voice trails off.

When he’s satisfied that the bag is indeed empty, he stands up, offering his hand out to you to pull you up, “Jaemin takes ten minutes to pick what he wants to eat, so if you have a preference, we should probably tell Johnny now.”

You take his hand and let him pull you up, reaching for the gun that lays on the ground, “Where-?”

“I’ll take it,” he takes it, quickly turning the safety on and reaches around to his back, tucking the weapon into the back of his black jeans.

Your second day of training was with Chenle, in the gym, which looked more like the inside of an asylum than anything. Everything was clean and a pale, almost-white shade of grey, and the entire ceiling was a cloudy glass panel that illuminated the room, giving the room a bright and energetic yet sterile feel. The equipment was state-of-the-art, a dark contrast to the overall lightness to the room, and floor to ceiling mirrors took up two of the walls. There was a stack of clean towels in the corner, and a few televisions across the room, visible from each machine. A smaller version of the Super fight ring was situated at one end of the long room. Yet, the thing that shocked you the most was the bright blue flooring, an odd design choice.

Chenle was the least helpful out of the Shields in the team, watching you train with his ability, critiquing your control and your movements with a stern eye. “Wrong. Try again. Make it hotter this time, or you’ll do no damage.” As if to gloat, he held a hand up, and a dangerous blue flame engulfed it. Your own flame, a measly bright orange, wavered.

The entire time you’d trained with him, he’d done nothing but glare and criticise you. You were sure he hated you, or maybe it was just the fact that he wasn’t the only one who had his ability anymore.

Yet, as he was leaving to eat, he’d nodded in approval at you, “Good. We’ll train together again soon, I’m sure.” It was the most he’d said to you. Actually, if you added up everything he has said to you, it would still be less words than were in that sentence.

Basically, he hadn’t spoken to you much all week.

Jaemin, however, was the opposite, and the person you’d trained with the day after Chenle. If anything, he was too kind and too understanding - he barely helped you.

“It’s okay if you can’t run as fast as me, yet,” he’d assured you with a smile, his hands on your shoulders. His smile was wide and encouraging, his eyes kind, and you instinctively knew he was a heartbreaker. No one with a smile like that has ever been heartbroken, you’d thought. His flirtatious manner was also a dead giveaway.

Your suspicions were only confirmed when he’d been sent on an assignment at the Den, and entered the kitchen the day after looking a little too happy. A girl had snuck out a few minutes later, looking only slightly embarrassed as she tried to pull her shoes on and find the exit at the same time. Jaemin had just stood in the kitchen and smiled at her as he ate his toast, not even bothering to show her out.

“You’ll have to eat a lot tonight,” he informed you at the end of your training. “And make sure you don’t have any training tomorrow morning, because you’ll be out for a while since this is your first time testing your stamina with my ability.”

He was right; you were exhausted after only two hours with him. When you’d told him just that, his smile widened and he winked at you. You laughed and shook your head at him, throwing your towel at him, “I’m going to shower.” He opened his mouth but you shot him a stern look, “Do not ask to join me.”

His easy-going smile remained on his face as he shrugged nonchalantly, “Worth a shot.” He bent down to pick up his drink bottle and began tidying up the gym as you left.

The person that surprised you the most was Jeno. His ability was easy enough to control, since you could control when you wanted the super strength, but he was happy to train you in preparation for your own training with Johnny.

“I guess it’s easy if you can control when you want to use someone’s ability, since your emotions don’t get in the way,” he’d said, as he wound his fist up with tape and gauze. “But if we’re not around, you need to be able to defend yourself with just your, uh, body.”

You nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Keep a clear head and be logical. Johnny is the only one that can see what you’re about to do, so unless you’re fighting him, think about what you’re doing.” The intense look is back in his eyes when he looks up from his wrapped hands, checking to see if you’re listening, as you haven’t said anything. You can easily see why the others would hate fighting him – he’s smart and he’s dangerous. “If you don’t think, you’ll… you’ll get hurt.” Something in his voice has changed, but it’s gone when he speaks again, “You’re no use if you’re dead.” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he juts his chin up at you, “Hold out your hand.”

You do as he says and he steps forward and begins wrapping your hand delicately. It’s far neater than you’d expected.

“Were you a boxer?”

He lets out a humourless laugh, “No. I’ve just been in a fair few fights.” You try not to react, but he can see what you’re thinking when he looks up. “Relax, most of them walked away just fine.”

“Most?” He doesn’t respond, and you take the hint that he does not want to talk about it.

He’s actually quite a good trainer, you discover, and teaches you the strongest ways to take someone down. He’s less talkative than Jaemin, but his instructions are clear and easy to follow, and at the end of your session, you’re able to do basic sparring with him.

“It’s 6,” he says, looking up at the wall of the gym. Without even a goodbye, he grabs his drink bottle and gym bag, lightly jogging up the steps to head to his room.

That night, you ate dinner with Mark and Jaemin. Well, you ate while they played video games. Jaemin shared a room with Jeno, but you hadn’t seen him since your training session. Empty pizza boxes were stacked by the door, and you counted at least 5. Your own box was sitting beside you on Jeno’s bed, while Jaemin and Mark sat side by side on Jaemin’s bed, their eyes glued to the TV screen that hung on one wall. Their room was a lot more… normal than you’d expected. Donghyuck’s was a giveaway that he was a Super – or a psychopath, either worked – with the blood and the diagrams and the journals and the weapons stacked in boxes around the room.

Jeno and Jaemin’s room was fitted out with their beds, desks, wardrobes, bean bag chairs, an old gaming console and a flatscreen TV. A few movie posters and celebrities were on the wall, and old photos. Only Jaemin had photos, and even so, there were only a few taped to the wall above his bed’s headboard. You couldn’t make out any details from where you were sitting.

Mark’s reflexes were no match for Jaemin’s, and he lost almost every round, making you wonder why he still agreed to play.

“Hey, should I save some of this for Jeno?” You asked, staring at the pizza still remaining in the box. There were only three left, and part of you wondered if it would even be enough. The other part of you thought it would at least be polite to offer.

“Nah, he won’t be back til tomorrow,” Jaemin doesn’t even turn around in his seat, his eyes frantically following his character as it moves across the screen.

“Huh. Okay,” you pick up another slice just as the game ends and Jaemin turns to throw another wide grin at you.

“That means my room’s free for the night, if that’s what you’re wondering.” He laughs at the look of exasperation on your face.

When his attention is away from you again, you say, “Jaehyun sure keeps you guys busy.” There’s only a little bit of bitterness in your voice; you’d been with the team for four days and the only time you’d left was to sort out your apartment. Apparently, you weren’t ready for any assignments yet.

“Huh? Jaehyun has him on an assignment?” Mark’s confusion gets your attention, as he turns to look at Jaemin with a furrowed brow. This was clearly unusual – or, at least, news to him.

Jaemin barely glances at you as he responds, “Nah, he’s visiting his girlfriend.”

“Jeno has a girlfriend?” You ask, only slightly shocked. It wasn’t like you’d thought about their love lives, but you’d just assumed everyone was single. It went with the job description.

“Yeah,” Jaemin nods. “She lives on the other side of the city somewhere. At one of the colleges. He normally goes after trainings on Fridays, since it’s the only night she’s not studying.”

Even without seeing your face, he can sense your surprise.

“Don’t ask him about it, though. He’s very reserved when it comes to her. Doesn’t want any of us to know much about her. I don’t even know her n-”

Mark laughs when he finally manages to kill Jaemin, and Jaemin pouts and rolls his eyes, insisting he was too focused on you to play. “You’re such a baby,” Mark laughs louder, and Jaemin swats at him. His hand moves so fast you barely even see it hit Mark’s arm. “Ow! Dude!”

“One more game, come on,” Jaemin insists, turning back to the screen. Then he raises his voice, “Anyway, Y/n, he won’t even tell us her name, let alone anything else about her. So don’t bring it up.”

“Or he’ll literally chokeslam you,” Mark adds, which, for some reason, makes them both laugh loudly.

You nod, despite the fact they can’t see you, and go back to eating your pizza, “I’ve got next game!”

Mark sighs in relief, “Gladly.” Jaemin’s competitiveness was beginning to wear him out.

The following day, Mark taught you the basics of shape shifting. He was the latest addition to the team – other than you – and his control was even worse than yours. “Shape shifting is really difficult,” he giggled, nervously. “If you’re not 100% imagining what you want to be, you’ll turn into something way different. But don’t panic, it will restrict your ability to change back.”

Over the course of the day, you’d shifted into birds, mice, elephants, leopards, any creature you could think of. Though, you had humiliated yourself when he went to get snacks during your break, greeting and talking to the large dog that came trotting down the stairs, as if it were Mark.

“What are you doing?” He’d laughed when he walked back into the gym, snacks in hand.

You’d been at a loss for words, your cheeks immediately becoming inflamed. “I- I thought that was you,” you pointed at the dog, which was panting as it sat down on the stack of towels in the corner of the room.

“That’s Bruce, Renjun’s dog,” Mark explained, tossing you a can of iced coffee. “Don’t tell Jaemin you drank his coffee.”

You paused, the opened can raised to your lips. You lowered it, slightly, “Why does Jaemin need coffee if he already operates at like 10 times the speed we do?”

“For after he crashes,” Mark shrugs. “Sometimes speed isn’t everything.” He laughs at his own joke, “If he doesn’t sleep enough, he’ll still be exhausted. Sometimes he can’t afford to sleep more than 12 hours, so he relies on coffee.” He cocks his head to the side as he examines his can.

Later, when you’re sitting on the floor after successfully shapeshifting into cockroaches, you ask, “Have you ever tried turning into other people? Can you do that?”

“Yes, but – I really have to know what the person looks like. Like, I can imagine a dog and turn into a dog because any small details that I remember incorrectly will go unnoticed by a human,” he gulps down his cola. “Humans are more complex – one small detail could make me look totally different to the person I’m trying to copy.”

“Change into me, then,” you sit up straighter. “If you can see me, surely you won’t have to rely on your memory, right?”

He shrugs and locks his eyes onto you. You’d seen him transfer from human to horse, from sheep to frog, but somehow seeing him change from himself to you was more disturbing. His skin ripples and his bones make disturbing popping noises as they change, and you wonder if it hurts, even though you had shape shifted multiple times and knew it didn’t hurt at all.

Within a few seconds, right before your eyes… is you. “Hello,” he says in your voice.

“Okay, fuck that, change back,” you tell him, looking away. “That’s so creepy. Brilliant, but creepy.”

When he laughs, it sounds like him again, and you let your eyes drift back to where was sitting. He smiles, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. His eyes, not your own.

You could have so much fun with this ability, reminding yourself to try it on Donghyuck later.

You tell Mark this as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth, and you both stretch out on the gym floor, laughing at all the pranks you could easily pull on the other members of the team.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Side Effects- Part 3 (Final)

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Stray Kids

Genre: Yandere Stray Kids AU, Vampire AU, Fantasy AU

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood and gore, violence, smut, dubious consent, and language

Word Count: 5K

Previous Parts: Part One, Part Two

Summary: Y/N has the opportunity to finally end her relationship with the eight young men who changed her life. With the police on her side, Y/N is prepared to do anything to help their investigation into the Miroh Coven, especially since they’re tied to several missing person cases. However, returning to the coven is nothing short of condemning because Chan, Jisung, and Changbin are more determined than ever to make Y/N a permanent member.

Tag List: @softxminghao, @darjeli, @seungminshakur, @rubylove-21,��@squirracha, @athosthehaunted, @lixiesbreadstick, @tapikachu, @unghchangkyun, @whereitgetsyou, @ashbash9909, @tropicalwrites​, @mikailo666​

I wasn’t able to properly tag these users: peachbess and lovesfaith (sad face)

What have they done? I questioned immediately when I realized that I was back in my regular bedroom the following morning. The normality of the situation should’ve been impossible because I was certain that Chan, Jisung, and Changbin had inexplicably decided to hold me hostage after finding me at that stupid club. “Remember? We can be together forever.”

However, no matter how much I tried to make sense of the preceding night’s events, I couldn’t understand why they would allow me to leave after making such promises to turn me. I don’t recall escaping, especially considering my weakened condition, which meant that the three men had brought me back to my apartment on their own accord. I mean, was this just another attempt to mess with me? 

I glanced over at my nightstand, discovering a faded envelope sitting on top of my cell phone. I decided to check my messages first, relieved when I saw my roommate’s contact name. She had apparently spent the night with someone she met at the bar, but she assured me that she was safe and would be home later after work. I was glad that she was fairing better than her roommate, and I turned my attention to the envelope. The handwriting on the front was familiar, and I gently tore through the sealed contents. Inside was a folded letter, and my hands were shaking when I smoothed out the paper to comprehend the brief message written in perfect cursive:

Y/N,

Although our reunion was postponed, please accept this invitation on behalf of the Miroh Coven for your company tonight at 8:00 pm sharp.

Sincerely,

Bang Chan

What did he mean by postponing our reunion?

Unfortunately, I had no time to try and figure it out because the buzzing sound of our doorbell abruptly pulled me out of bed, and I wordlessly tucked the envelope inside my pocket. My roommate and I never received visitors, and there was a small part of me that feared for the possibility that one of the Miroh Coven members was waiting outside in the hallway. Yet, when I searched through the door viewer, I realized that a uniformed police officer was carefully sorting through a file of paperwork in her hands.

“Hello?” I asked cautiously, opening the door just enough to acknowledge the unfamiliar woman.

“Y/N?” the officer questioned.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“My name is Officer Smith. I have a few questions for you concerning your previous employer,” the officer said and I was left shaking from head to toe as I allowed her to come inside. 

“Do you have somewhere we could sit down?” she asked, and I nodded curtly before leading us both in the kitchen.

“Coffee?” I asked, crowding around the machine in the kitchen.

“That would be nice.”

We were both silent while I served the warm beverage, holding my mug tightly between my hands. “Do you want any creamer?”

“I’m fine,” the officer said. “I just want you to be comfortable. There’s some very troubling things I want to talk to you about.”

“I see,” I nodded, looking intently at the file she had brought with her.

“We’re in the middle of an investigation,” she continued. “It concerns the Miroh Coven. According to our records, you were previously employed with them as a blood donor.”

“Yes, but I was forced to leave.”

“Oh?” 

“We had a disagreement.”

“Well, I want you to know that they’re in a lot of trouble,” the officer explained. “We found the body of a young woman on the side of the highway completely drained of blood. When we ran her license, we discovered that she had been employed by the Miroh Coven as a blood donor during the past few months. However, when we asked the Coven about her employment, they told us a very similar story about...a disagreement.”

I shivered despite the heat from the liquid trailing down my throat. “I just...I had a lot of trouble with balancing my college lectures with their schedule. It was very demanding.”

“Of course,” the officer said, but she still wore a look of suspicion. “Normally, we might be inclined to attribute these kinds of things to a rogue attack, but there’s just too many factors that coincide with this case.”

“Like what?”

“For starters, we’ve been unable to contact their previous employees, with the exception of yourself,” the officer explained. “It seems like the Miroh Coven has a history of making their employees disappear without a trace, and I find it very problematic that the young lady we found yesterday had clearly suffered at the hands of a vampire.”

“How many other employees have they had?”

“Quite a few,” the officer said. “I think there’s something bigger going on, and I really need for you to be honest with me, Y/N, because you might be able to help us stop them.”

I swallowed hard. “You think they killed those other donors.”

“It’s very likely,” she said. “Can you tell me anything else about your resignation?”

I found it impossible to make eye contact with the officer, especially when I could still remember everything that had happened the night I left the Miroh Coven. My intention had always been to forget about those terrible circumstances because I was determined to move forward with my life, but all those other ill-fated donors suddenly made it very difficult to remain silent. “They were always nice to me,” I said. “We had a reasonable arrangement because they paid for my schooling and even let me live with them to assuage the cost of on-campus housing. It helped me finish school, but it was always meant to be a temporary arrangement.”

“I understand,” she nodded. “Did they know you were planning to leave?”

“No, but they were keeping secrets from me too,” I said. “A lot of strange things happened when I was living at the mansion.”

“Like?”

“One night, I found a pair of bodies in the basement, but Jisung told me that they were donated...” I trailed off with a choked whimper. “They were also planning to turn me into one of them.”

“Did they tell you this?”

“I guess I didn’t have the right to know,” I said. “I escaped that night and drove myself to the hospital. After that, I moved back here and tried to forget about everything that happened.”

“I understand that it was traumatic for you,” the officer said. “I’m sorry you had to bring it up again.”

I shook my head. “If they’re hurting other people, then I don’t mind the pain.”

The officer sighed, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Have they tried to contact you since then?”

“Yeah,” I sniffled, reaching into my pocket to retrieve the folded letter. “They actually found me at a bar the other night, but they let me go for some reason. I found this letter on my nightstand.”

The officer read over the simple message and frowned. “Were you planning on meeting them tonight?”

“I don’t want to see them ever again.”

“Interesting,” the officer said. “It seems like they really like you.”

“They always told me that,” I said, remembering their whispered words of affection while sharp teeth penetrated my skin.

“I’m going to be completely transparent with you, Y/N,” the officer said. “My station is leading an investigation into the Miroh Coven, but we still need a lot of evidence to bring a case to the court of law.”

“You can have the letter,” I suggested, but she shook her head.

“It needs to be more concrete,” she said. “I need something that condemns them for the previous disappearances of those other blood donors.”

“Maybe a record or something?”

“I wish we had one,” the officer sighed. “We know those donors were employed by the Coven, but there’s no evidence of what happened to them or why they were dismissed.”

“Chan, Jisung, and Changbin own their own company,” I said. “There might be something in one of those buildings?”

“I doubt they’d be careless,” the officer said. “Actually, I’d imagine that the three of them would keep those things close, and there’s probably very few people who they trust inside the mansion.” 

I could feel my entire body trembling at her knowing look. “Actually, Y/N, it seems like they trust you.”

“You want me to go to that dinner tonight with them,” I whispered, completely missing her next words because my heart was beating too loudly, drowning out the other noises around the apartment. It felt like I was falling back into a dark place, and I was desperate to find the light again.

Officer Smith suddenly reached out, fingers cold against my arm, and she effectively pulled me back into the conversation. “I know it’s a lot to ask from you, Y/N, but the answers are inside that house! Whatever you might find could bring justice to the people they’ve taken advantage of over the years.”

It was easy for her to tell me to return to the Coven when she desperately needed my help, but why did it have to be my responsibility to return to a place where I had once escaped tragedy? Nevertheless, I could feel the weight of her gaze, imploring me to undertake such a terrifying mission, and I wondered whether or not I could still protect myself when so many other people were depending on me? “Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

The Miroh Mansion was still dark and foreboding, reminding me of the very first time I walked through the front door for my interview with Chan. It was a pivotal moment in my life, but one whose consequences I never understood until I drove to a hospital with blood pouring from a wound meant to serve as the last reminder of my mortality. I had nightmares about the Coven kidnapping me and forcing me to return, but I could’ve never imagined that I would come back here of my own decision.

I slowly knocked on the front door, swallowing down my fear because I couldn’t afford for the Coven to think anything was wrong. “Act as if we had never gotten involved,” the police had instructed me.

“I’ll try,” I had promised, and I intended to do whatever was possible to help the innocent. However, I wouldn’t go as far as risking my life to expose these horrible vampires, even if dozens of missing donors were counting on me for justice.

“Y/N,” Chan greeted smoothly when he met me outside on the porch, dark eyes swallowing me into their endless depths. “I’m glad you saw things our way.”

He invited me inside, and I anxiously made my way across the familiar carpeted hallway leading into the living room. I wasn’t surprised to see the other Coven members waiting, but it still didn’t stop my heart from leaping into my throat when I realized that I could very well die tonight if I wasn’t careful. “My dearest Y/N kindly accepted our invitation,” Jisung remarked, gliding across the floor with an impossible speed. I could smell blood on his lips as he wrapped an arm around my waist, escorting me to the lovely sectional where Minho was watching me through lidded eyes.

“You look beautiful,” Changbin contributed, holding a glass of red liquid daintily between his fingers. Felix and Hyunjin sat next to him, looking at me with barely constrained hunger. “You’re just in time for drinks.”

I stiffened instinctively under Jisung’s hold because I remembered the last time I had been offered to drink with them. “It’s just wine,” Minho smirked, holding out a glass for me to take.

I accepted it cautiously, tasting at the rim only to discover a grape-flavored taste that certainly didn’t remind me of blood. Still, I declined to drink further, holding my glass while Chan started a conversation about their business, eliminating the initial silence that had occupied the room upon my arrival. Seungmin and Jeongin happily listened, focused on their sire with an attentiveness that reminded me of my previous stay with the Miroh Coven when I had once been ignorant of their bond. “Dinner should be ready soon,” Chan reassured me and I could only nod in response.

“Do you mind if I use the restroom?” I asked, and Jisung reluctantly let me go while eight pairs of eyes watched me all the way up the staircase.

I took a deep breath, waiting until Chan started talking again before disappearing around the corner into the room I knew he maintained as an office. I immediately started for his desk, pulling out well-organized files and the notebooks full of his writings. Every so often, I glanced up at the clock hanging above the doorway because I knew that I could probably only manage twenty minutes unsupervised before someone came looking for me.

“Please,” I sighed, reading over a promising file tentatively titled extraneous paperwork. “Holy shit!”

Pictures. 

Dozens of them. 

They were incriminating, various bodies splayed at unattractive angles. Close-up shots of mangled corpses drenched in blood with empty eyes staring straight at the camera. I flipped them over and gasped, reading the names that sounded way too familiar to merely be a coincidence. “This is it,” I said, almost giddy with excitement despite the uncomfortable nausea twisting my stomach at the sight of these poor donors who had managed to fall victim to the merciless Coven.

I shuffled them together, restoring Chan’s office to its previous organization, before tucking the pictures inside the pocket of my jacket. I was more than ready to return downstairs, when I suddenly remembered a faint recollection of the little notebook I had once discovered in Jisung’s bedroom. It wasn’t that much further down the hallway, and I quickly jerked open the drawer of his nightstand, shoulders deflating in relief when I saw the tiny book waiting on top of his other belongings.

I gripped it tightly when I eventually retreated, resting my head against the door to his bedroom quietly because this was causing me more stress than I could handle. “Y/N?”

I immediately turned around, eyes widening in shock when I realized that Chan was waiting for me. I swallowed hard as I held my ground, keeping the journal behind me. “Did you need something, Chan?”

He didn’t respond right away, and I could feel myself growing smaller and smaller with every long second passing between us. Finally, Chan took a step in my direction. “You’ve been gone a while.”

I shifted anxiously. “I- I just remembered something in Jisung’s room. We used to look at it together when I lived here.”

Chan nodded, and I was relieved that he accepted my explanation. “We all missed you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I missed you too.”

He closed his eyes, cherishing the lie that somehow sounded much more believable than it did inside my head. “Can you show me?”

“What?”

“In Jisung’s room,” Chan said. “What did he show you?”

I trembled as I leaned against the door. “I’m not sure if it was something he wanted to share.”

“I see,” Chan murmured. “It’s interesting because there’s something that I want to show you too.”

Chan walked away without another word, and I assumed that he wanted me to follow him. I ignored every instinct that was screaming for me to escape with my evidence because I wouldn’t make it the bottom of the staircase before a Coven member would prevent that from happening. Instead, I took slow steps on unsteady legs into Chan’s bedroom. I was inherently curious, but when he gently backed me against the wall, I understood perfectly well what he wanted.

His fingers were undoing the buttons on my shirt and I carefully shrugged off my jacket before he could find and apprehend the valuable photographs inside my pockets. I also made sure Jisung’s journal was hidden beneath the fabric before I allowed Chan to take me to his bed. The oldest vampire made no secret of his desires, tossing aside his shirt before tugging the fabric of my jeans down my legs. “Y/N,” he sighed, fingering the edges of my panties while his sharpened canines drew lines along my collarbones. My body reacted on instinct because it was impossible to resist Chan when he was looking at me like I was the answer to all of his problems. Despite everything he had done to me, I still responded to his touches and the taste of his skin on my lips. Instead of pushing him away, I held him close, occasionally glancing at my jacket waiting next to the door with the incriminating evidence necessary to end the Coven forever.

“Oh, Y/N,” he moaned. “I missed you.”

Maybe that was part of the reason why I didn’t resist because I knew that he would never bother me again once the police had their prosecution trial. It was an intoxicating sensation since I was the one with all the power and he was completely clueless to my intentions. He had no idea that I came back to spite the Coven instead of joining them like they wanted.

I watched him roll on a condom, erection prominent as he pushed slowly between my legs. I felt incredibly full, studying the pleasure on his face when he started to thrust inside of me. I looked at him the entire time with eyes wide open because I knew something that he didn’t and, while he was pleasuring me with his precious members waiting downstairs, I was taking back all that time spent in this mansion, knowing that they were more dangerous than anything I had ever encountered before.

His cock moved faster, and I reacted by spreading my legs wider for him, opening myself up to Chan’s advances. It didn’t take him long to come, and I finally closed my eyes when I felt his warm release through the thin latex of the condom. His kisses were familiar, but they also made me want to laugh because I was planning on betraying the people who claimed to love me, the vampires who actually did love me in their own messed up way.

“I love you,” he eventually said, but I didn’t respond, choosing instead to count the tiles on the ceiling overhead.

“Photos, names, addresses, detailed journal accounts...Y/N, you managed to find everything! We can cross-reference this stuff with the files and paperwork we already have.”

I smiled despite the circumstances, watching as two younger detectives sorted the files and pictures before retreating from the tiny interrogation room. “It wasn’t exactly easy for me.”

“Still, this is brilliant, Y/N,” Officer Smith exclaimed, and I felt satisfied knowing that I had done a good job. “We have enough evidence to start the raid.”

“Raid?”

She nodded. “You should know that Vampire raids are extremely rare, but I don’t think your Coven will surrender when we issue the warrant.”

I wrinkled my nose at the suggestion that I could ever belong to the Miroh Coven. “Is it safe?”

“It’s a commonplace occurrence and we’ve all received special training,” she said. “Hopefully, they’ll come to their senses and agree to a trial, but it won’t take much for a judge to officially convict them.”

“Will I have to be at the trial?” I asked, dreading the idea before it could even become official.

“I wouldn’t force you,” she replied. “A testimony would be critical, but this is enough to put them away for the rest of their immortal lives.”

I couldn’t imagine the dreaded reality of such a punishment. “What if they escape? They might try and track me down.”

“Witness protection,” she suggested. “We’ll accommodate you to the best of our abilities.”

“I understand the concept,” I said. “But they’ve found me before despite everything I did to hide.”

“Well, we can work out the details later,” she said. “For now, we need to prepare for the raid. We’ll start by sending in the evidence to the court to get our warrant for their immediate arrest.”

“Is it something that will happen soon?”

“I might have a way to expedite the process,” she grinned. “We’ve been on this case for long enough, bothering the courts for documents and employee records.”

I nodded slowly. “So everything is done?”

“For the most part,” she agreed. “We can commence stage two of our operation.”

“Thank god,” I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “I’m glad that it’s over.”

“Yes,” the officer said, but there was a reluctance in her tone that sent me immediately on edge. “Of course, we can always use your help with one last thing.”

“What could I do at this point? I’m not exactly trained for this sort of thing.”

“Yes, but we wouldn’t want the Coven to suspect anything,” she said. “They might try to leave before our warrant is formally issued. Until then, I think a distraction might hold their attention.”

“Me,” I intoned, narrowing my eyes because I wanted nothing more to do with those nasty vampires.

“We wouldn’t want them to suspect anything,” she said. “If you go back to the Coven, then they might lower their guard.”

“It was supposed to end,” I reminded her. “You said that I was finished with them.”

“I know we’re asking a lot of you,” Officer Smith said. “But this will be the last time you ever have to see them again.”

“You keep saying that,” I muttered, but we both knew that I was in too deep, which meant that I had no choice but to return to the mansion.

Felix greeted me at the door with his familiar smirk, escorting me inside to the bottom of the staircase. Today meant the official end of the Coven, but they were all completely ignorant to their impending punishment. “They want to discuss something with you,” Felix said, and I understood immediately who he was referring to despite the unnecessary pronoun game.

Still, I knew that I couldn’t keep them waiting, pausing outside of Chan’s office door before I heard someone invite me inside. I took a deep breath, opening the door to discover the three leaders waiting for me expectantly while wearing similar expressions of dark foreboding. “Y/N,” Chan said. “Have a seat.”

I obeyed instantly, looking at the Miroh Coven leader as he watched me with an unnerving attentiveness. “What’s going on? I asked.

“I think we have something serious to discuss,” Chan said and my heart was practically beating out of my chest as I studied Jisung and Changbin from the corner of my eye. They knew, I repeated to myself over and over again as I imagined a dozen different scenarios that all ended with my lifeless body thrown into some kind of river because they had discovered my treason.

“You came back,” Jisung finally said. “We weren’t expecting you to accept our invitation.”

“I was being polite,” I said, rubbing my hands along the seam line of my jeans.

“Yes, but we’re all here,” Changbin said. “We can be together.”

I shivered at his words. “We love you, Y/N,” Chan said. “The eight of us would like nothing more than to keep you with us forever.

“To turn me,” I confirmed, and he nodded his head. 

“We’ll make it special,” Jisung said, patting his lap and I reluctantly joined him.

“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Changbin confirmed, swiping his tongue across his sharp teeth. “But we are hungry.”

“And you’re such a sweet girl,” Jisung added, holding me on his lap as his teeth brushed across my carotid artery.

I held my breath because he was close to biting, but then...

“Chan! The police are outside and have a warrant to investigate the property!”

Jeongin’s face was a mess of tears which, at one time, might’ve forced me to reconsider everything that I had done, but not anymore. “What?” Chan growled, before glaring at me. “You stay here,” Chan said, and Jisung snarled in frustration as he released me before following Changbin and Chan downstairs.

For a moment, I could only focus on breathing because I had narrowly escaped Jisung’s bite and now the Coven knew that they were about to receive an unanticipated raid from the police. I swallowed hard, falling down into the floor as a piercing scream shattered the previous silence that left me shaking like a leaf inside of Chan’s office. There were suddenly loud growls and vicious noises penetrating the closed door and I buried my head between my legs and tried to calm down my racing heart.

I could hear the familiar sounds of glass breaking, of inhuman screams and yells breaking the barrier of the office. The voices of the vampires I had once known yelling out insults and curses, the destructive noises of gunshots and human-like cries for help as teeth tore through skin. It was apparent that the Miroh Coven was not backing down from this fight, and I could only pray that my officer had been right in her assurances that they could handle the Coven.

It seemed like hours had passed before I finally removed my hands from my ears, realizing that the screaming from downstairs had suddenly stopped. I waited for several moments, hearing nothing but my heartbeat in my ears and the gentle sounds of the river outside. Eventually, I managed to stand on unsteady legs, holding myself up against the wall as I started to make my way downstairs. 

The smells that assaulted my senses should’ve told me everything, but I still released a piercing scream when I collapsed at the bottom of the staircase.

It was a terrifying sight, nothing but blood and crooked bodies spread throughout the room. I recognized most of the Coven, bile rising in my throat when I made contact with Changbin’s lifeless eyes. I carefully took a step back because I knew that this wasn’t supposed to happen, but an unexpected pressure around my ankle tore another scream from my throat and I fell down onto the floor. 

“Y/N,” Chan croaked and I shivered when he moved over me, blood seeping through his shirt, but his eyes were still perfectly focused. “I have nothing now, Y/N,” Chan gasped, gripping tightly to my chin and forcing me to look into the empty eyes of Han Jisung. 

He pulled me closer, exposing his sharpened teeth and I could do nothing to stop him. This was it, I thought to myself, the moment I had been running from since that tragic night eight months ago. Because Chan was unrelenting, drinking with long, painful bites that sent a searing pain down my spine as my body fought against the significant blood loss. Everything was cold and I wondered if death always felt this unpleasant. 

However, the sudden reverberation of a loud snarl forced me to reconsider the darkening spots in my vision, searching behind me when I realized the brutal aspect of Chan’s bite had suddenly subsided. I felt my mouth drop open in horror, but the feeling quickly disappeared when I realized Officer Smith had speared Chan straight through the heart with a silver stake. The impact was immediate and Chan’s body dropped to the floor unceremoniously, leaving me with only a pair of red eyes gazing unblinkingly from the beyond. Meanwhile, Officer Smith offered me a kind smile that seemed out of place considering the blood staining the front of her uniform. “You deserve a better life, Y/N,” she whispered before her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she collapsed next to Chan.

It took me a moment to regain my bearings, looking around at the surrounding carnage. There was blood everywhere, bodies lying in deep puddles and contorted awkwardly from their injuries. It was a startling realization because they were all gone, both vampires and humans. There was nothing left from their vicious fight.

I was also incredibly tired and I closed my eyes despite my situation. Everything felt heavy, and I just wanted to forget the entire night before I had to comprehend the unfortunate tragedy of the Miroh Coven. I thought I deserved it considering the heavy loss weighing over my heart.

After a while, I became aware of a piercing light burning from somewhere in the distance. I gradually opened my eyes because the morning had arrived and, despite the death and destruction around me, I wanted desperately to find a better future in that beautiful light...

Epilogue- 2 Years Later

Vampires had rapidly gone into hiding, especially following the inquiry into the Miroh Massacre, as the newspapers delicately framed the tragedy. Apparently, society decided that they would no longer embrace their culture, finding more evidence of various Covens abusing the donor law which was eventually retracted in court. Subsequently, the vampires were forced to remain out of the public eye lest they face a severe punishment from the newly minted Hunters who spent their lives training to kill rogue vampires.

As for myself, I had finally taken back full ownership of my life, accepting a full-time research position that eventually led me to my future husband. After our marriage, we moved into an idyllic home in the suburbs and I gave birth to my son who proved to be everything that I needed in this world. Everything was starting to work out for me, and I was finally reassured that the past was truly forgotten because the ones who had haunted it were now gone forever.

“Mommy!” my son called, and I found him in the doorway to his bedroom looking up at me with tired brown eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

“Why is that?” I asked while gently encouraging him to lay back down on his bed.

“A kid in my class,” he said. “He told us about the vampires.”

“Yeah? Well, how would he know anything? He’s probably never even seen a vampire. Not many people have.”

“What about you?”

I shivered at the question. “It doesn’t matter, sweetheart. Vampires aren’t a problem anymore and there are people now who can protect us.”

“Really?” he asked, and his eyes were incredibly innocent of the true horrors of this world.

“They won’t ever hurt you,” I promised my son before flipping his light switch. I closed the door gently, praying that he might sleep through the entire night in his own bed, before I walked into the kitchen for something to drink. I smirked as I popped the cork on a new bottle of wine that my husband had bought for the two of us to share. It seemed unnecessarily mischievous to drink with my son in the other room, but I still liked to indulge every now and then, especially after remaining sober for nine months during my pregnancy.

I sighed as I drained the first glass, feeling the numbing effects spread through my body like an aphrodisiac. It had been a stressful day because of some unnecessary paperwork at the research institute where I worked, but I knew that everyday couldn’t be perfect. After all, I was absolutely grateful for everything in my life, even if it caused me the occasional headache.

I started washing my wine glass, lost in thought until a strange noise outside forced me to pause in my cleaning. It sounded close to the garage attached to our house, and I figured it might be raccoons again because they were becoming a problem. I glanced out the window, shrugging when I didn’t notice anything suspicious. However, if I had only taken an extra moment to study the outline of my husband’s garden, then I might’ve noticed the unusual pair of crimson-red eyes watching me from outside.

The End.

[lovelyirony]

“Let me help you.” for Clark and Bruce please?

i’m making these rounds of prompts au so i present: new neighbor au (note: i know next to nothing about the bat fam pretty pretty please do not kill me i’m begging) 

Bruce Wayne already hated moving into the house, although the house itself wasn’t particularly bad. Jason and Dick were already fighting over who got the corner room (they didn’t know Cass had already started to set up a vanity there) and he had already heard at least one bad crack from a kitchen box. 

But it was fine. 

This did not explain why there was a strange man in his house, talking to Jason as if this was a regular occurrence. 

“Who are you?” Bruce asks bluntly. “And what the hell are you doing in my house?” 

“Dad!” Jason hisses. “This is our new neighbor, Clark Kent. Be nice.” 

“It’s okay, I technically did come into the house without his knowledge,” newly-named Clark Kent admits. “I’m sorry, I just noticed that your son was struggling with a box labeled ‘dishes’ and figured it’d be better to help than to schedule a trip to the store for more plates.” 

He was right. This was the problem. 

(This guy was also ripped, had on a pair of thick, black frames that somehow looked good, and looked like he probably ripped logs in half when he was bored.) 

“Thank you,” Bruce says curtly. “But I think we have it from here.” 

He hears a yell from the yard, and it’s Dick and Tim fighting over a box that got dumped over. 

Inside is the office computer, which is now not an office computer but scraps for one of the kids to use for some project that hopefully isn’t world domination. 

(It’s not like Bruce can’t replace it, it’s just that...well he doesn’t want to go monitor shopping.) 

“Let me help you,” new-neighbor says. He’s too damn earnest. 

“I’m fine,” Bruce grits out. “Believe me, I can handle it.” 

“You just moved in with more kids than I think I’ve seen, it’s been a long day. At least let me make you dinner.” 

“Please?” Duke asks. 

Clark gestures as if saying “I was right.” 

“Your cooking kind of...sucks.” 

“It’s not that bad.” 

Jason pokes his head out now to yell for pizza. 

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Dinner is fine. Thank you. It’s not necessary. You will spoil my kids. But thank you.” 

“Um...how many are exactly in your family?” 

“Shoot for ten, that’s probably good,” Duke says. 

To his credit, Clark only blinks once. 

“Gotcha,” he says. “Dinner will be ready in two hours, give or take. I have a...store trip.” 

Bruce slips him cash. 

“Here. I know it’s a pain. You can back out of it or order pizza. If you order pizza, that’d probably work.” 

“Pizza sounds good. I’ll get pizza. Any allergies?” 

“Don’t put mushrooms on it!” Cass yells out the window. “They suck!” 

“No they don’t!” Damian yells back. “You have no taste!” 

Clark grins. 

“I think I’m gonna like having you guys as my new neighbors.” 

- 

Clark thinks his new neighbors are fun. He can sometimes hear yelling and the boys are chasing each other around the kitchen. They practice what looks to be a game of tag but with consequences in the backyard. 

Their father is very interesting. He leaves the house at five each morning for work, and Clark only knows that because he’s on a run every day with Diana, who is also as insane as he is. 

“He looks nice,” she says, craning her neck. 

“Way to be obvious,” he comments. 

“Like you aren’t,” Diana says, laughing. “Catch up to me before I lap you again.” 

Clark rolls his eyes. “Fine.” 

“When was the last time you dated?” 

“You know the last time I dated,” he responds. “I’m fine with not dating.” 

“And yet I think you’d actually want to date a man who has what seems to be an infinite supply of children,” Diana responds. 

“You make it sound creepy.” 

“I can’t keep track of them. I keep seeing new ones.” 

Clark tells her all about the kids. How he sometimes talks to Tim about school over the fence, or he’ll bring over dessert since Cass mentioned no one knows how to bake besides Alfred, but Alfred retired. 

(Note: find out who Alfred is.) 

Who he doesn’t talk much to is Bruce. Which is odd, considering he knows that he’s home quite a bit. 

(Windows are clear, you see things through them. That’s his reasoning.) 

Bruce is a very interesting man, because he’s always out with the kids throwing around a ball, or taking at least one of them around the neighborhood learning how to drive. 

(Clark is scared for Cass to actually have a car she’s run over about seven different mailboxes.) 

It’s when he gets his doorbell rung and standing there is Duke and Damian. 

“You’re coming to family dinner,” Damian says. “We figure we owe you for always climbing your fence to get the baseballs and for sometimes probably keeping you up until two a.m. because we’re debating on food.” 

“I’ve learned much about pineapple on pizza,” Clark says. “What time should I show up? Do you guys want dessert?” 

“Dessert would be great, and dinner is at six-thirty,” Duke says, grinning. “Still remember those lemon bars you made. Best things I’ve ever had.” 

“I’ll bring some over then,” Clark says, grinning. 

- 

Unofficially, the kids have noticed that their dad needs someone. 

Well okay he doesn’t but occasionally he looks at their neighbor a second longer. 

(Tim did the math.) 

So Clark gets invited to dinner. Besides, they’re tired of simply talking over a fence. And Alfred suggested knowing at least one neighbor just in case one of them got in trouble and Bruce was away on business or the like. 

Bruce does not know that Clark got invited to dinner. 

Or that he can actually casually wear t-shirts. 

(He wonders if he tailors his t-shirts.) 

“What are you doing here?” He asks. 

“Was I...not invited?” Clark asks. 

“Oh, you definitely were,” Dick says. “We decided to be neighborly. We followed Alfred’s advice, Dad. You know how good that is.” 

Bruce knows he cannot argue against Alfred. 

“Welcome,” Bruce says. “I hope they didn’t badger you into bringing another dessert.” 

(Oh let it be known Bruce is a liar, he was hoping for a dessert.) 

“Duke requested lemon bars, so I had to fill a need,” Clark explains. “Thanks for letting me crash your dinner.” 

“It isn’t a problem,” Bruce says. “Tim, go get another chair.” 

“Why do I have to get the chair?” 

“Damian, go get the chair.” 

“I am hated in this family,” Damian declares, getting up from his seat. “But I’ll go get it.” 

“I appreciate you!” Clark calls, navigating through the kitchen easily. “Mind if I set the dessert down?” 

“Not at all, let me squeeze past you to get the water glasses.” 

Okay so maybe Tim scoots his chair back and Bruce is used to just moving out of the way and avoiding getting the back of a chair shoved into his stomach but then he runs into Clark. 

“Sorry!” he says. 

Bruce is against his back. 

“It’s fine,” he says, straightening himself up. “Tim, quit moving your chair at ill-opportune times.” 

“Sorry,” Tim says, looking not-sorry-at-all. 

Bruce sends him a dirty look. 

Damian shows up with the chair, grinning. 

“Sorry about the kitchen, tends to be a hard-to-get place with all of us. Anyways, water?” 

Bruce hates his kids. They are not slick about anything. Cass cannot look him in the eye without smiling. 

Clark is oblivious. 

Dinner is...good. Better than good. Clark is surprisingly good with dry humor, and entertains the kids with stories of his greatest journalism feats. 

(Bruce is impressed.) 

He also handles the sheer volume of kids with a certain amount of grace. He listens carefully when Tim’s talking, even when Jason yells over him for someone to pass the dessert. 

After dinner, Clark is invited to the backyard porch to have a drink while the kids play outdoors. 

“You do a nice job,” Clark says. “It must get pretty crazy, all by yourself.” 

“It can be,” Bruce admits. “Although the kids have grown up enough to know when they need to quit it. Mostly. Sometimes they still fight about things like ice cream.” 

“The great flavor debate,” Clark nods. “Your stance on chocolate chip cookie dough.” 

“Oh god, you’re that guy?” 

“It’s the superior flavor!” 

“That is the most boring answer you could’ve given.” 

“And what is your answer?” 

“Peppermint.” 

Clark stares at him. 

“What?” 

“So you only have ice cream, like, once a year?” 

“Sure. Don’t really like any other flavor.” 

Clark shakes his head. 

“Not mint?” 

“Mint is still good, but not the best.” 

“And your stance on the lemon bars?” Clark asks. 

“I hid some in the fridge so I could get more,” Bruce admits. Clark laughs. 

Bruce likes the sound of that. He likes how Clark looks under those stupid fairylights that Duke and Cass had snuck into the cart when he wasn’t looking. (They looked good, he had to admit.) 

He looks away for a moment. 

“It’s getting dark,” Clark says. “I have an early day tomorrow, I better head home.” 

“Feel free to come any time,” Bruce says, nodding. “I mean that.” 

“I get the feeling you never say things you don’t mean,” Clark answers. 

Bruce smiles slightly. 

“How’d it go?” Dick asks. 

“Do not ask me.” 

(That means it went well.) 

- 

Clark comes over to the house a lot more after that, as well as having the Wayne family over to his. 

Lois makes fun of him when he has his phone background a picture of him and the family in the backyard for Tim’s birthday. 

“You need to marry in,” she says. “Enough of this.” 

“We’re just neighbors.” 

Lois starts humming music from The Sound of Music and Clark gives her a look. 

“You still need to meet your deadline by tonight!” Lois calls back. “I know you can do it!” 

He sighs, turning back to his desk. 

Tonight was his turn to host dinner, and it was all of them. He still had to leave work early (if he could) and get the makings for the rest of the meal. 

Dear Clark,  Duke mentioned that you have an upcoming deadline at work. I am aware this could impede your timing for tonight’s dinner. I am going to the store with Cass. What do you need for dinner?  From,  Bruce Wayne. 

Clark snorts. Bruce always texts like that, no matter who it is. He texts his own kids like that, no matter the circumstance. 

Thank you, Bruce. I need one more pound of ground beef and some drinks (juice and stuff like that.) I will pay you back when you get back. 

Dear Clark,  Payment is not necessary. All of my children have subjected you to debates about “pineapple” and “government conspiracy theories.” No problem.  From,  Bruce Wayne. 

“Why I’m attracted to you, I have no idea,” Clark mutters, rolling away from his desk to get another coffee. 

- 

“You should get him flowers,” Cass says, looking at the bouquets lined up. 

“Why?” Bruce asks. 

“People like flowers,” she says. “And they’re used when you like someone.” 

Bruce slowly swivels his head. 

“Would you like to pretend that I never heard you?” 

“Not really. You’re the one grocery shopping for our neighbor that’s your type and refusing payment.” 

“How do you know what my type is?” 

“When Tim and Jason get bored it gets bad.” 

“Remind me to rescind talking privileges in-house.” 

“Noted, but disregarded. We need gummy worms.” 

“We do not need gummy worms.” 

They still get thrown in the cart. 

And now Bruce is nervous for a dinner that is literally just a dinner but maybe he should get flowers. 

He gets sunflowers. Because Clark is a Kansas boy and roses are overrated anyways. 

- 

Clark gets flowers from Bruce,who by all means looks quite flustered. 

“They’re wonderful,” he says, smiling. “Cass help you pick these out?” 

“Nope, his idea,” Cassie says, digging into her pockets. “I bought gummy worms.” 

Clark blinks as she steps off to go see her brothers. 

Bruce winces. 

“Sorry if that’s a bit...forward. I figured you’d like the sunflowers.” 

“Not too forward at all,” Clark says. “In fact, I’d like an after-dinner conversation, if you don’t mind.” 

Bruce blinks. 

“Um. Yes.” 

That is the first time he had ever said “um” in Clark’s presence, so this is a pretty momentous occasion. 

Dinner is still nice. Bruce is a bit lost in thought and Clark has to refocus in on the conversation of Dick bitching about his new floor routine and the coach who’s making it impossible to practice. 

The kids have enough sense to offer to either a.) go work on homework or b.) do the dishes. 

Clark leads Bruce to the backyard, sitting on the patio furniture. They overlook his garden. 

“I don’t know why I kept the fence,” Clark says. “Not like anyone’s to the right of me, and your family comes over often enough we don’t really need one. Wanna help me remove it?” 

“Is that what your after-dinner conversation consisted of?” Bruce asks. 

“No,” Clark says. “But I needed to say something else so I got courage to say what I want to say.” He takes a breath. 

“Bruce, you are without a doubt the strangest man I have ever met. You send text messages like you’re sending business emails, yet you always participate with Jason’s internet dances and even, on occasion, help prank other siblings. You pretend like you never know anyone’s interests but you have gotten me my favorite jam at least once and make the kids’ favorite desserts for dinner. 

“Furthermore, I think I am incredibly in love with you because you look nice in suits and you got me sunflowers because you know I like them. You are also one of the best people I’ve ever met. So I would like to take you on a date.” 

“A real date?” 

“As opposed to what, taking you to a meeting with my journalism team?” Clark asks. 

Bruce smiles softly. 

“I am joking.” 

“Nerd.” 

“Where is the date going to be?” 

“I figured we actually go to that restaurant we always order takeout from instead of ordering enough for twenty people,” Clark teases. 

“Sounds good to me,” Bruce says. “We’ll need to not tell the kids or they’ll want to spy on us.” 

“Obviously. What day works for you?” 

“Wednesday?” 

“We both tell them it’s a late night at the offices, start without us,”  Clark says, grinning. 

“I can’t wait.” 

- 

The date goes quite well. The kids are very sad to have missed it, although they make sure everyone knows that they were the ones who set the two up in the first place. 

“You have to say it in your wedding vows,” Dick says. “I was the one who planned it.” 

“I was the one who pushed my chair!” Tim yells. 

Cass rolls her eyes, shares a look with Duke. 

Bruce shakes his head. 

“You are not getting credit for Clark asking me to go on dates with him, Dick. You get credit for not unloading the dishwasher this morning, however.” 

“Ugh.” 

Damian snickers from his position on the couch, and gets a flowering look from his older sibling. 

“Where’s your date tonight?” Duke asks his dad. “Going somewhere special?” 

“Maybe,” Bruce answers. “It’s Clark’s turn to choose. I never know with him.” 

(He knows. They’re going to a farmer’s market. Barbara Gordon also knows this and has told Jason, who finds it hilarious that his dad, who usually is very Stern and Serious will be pulled into conversation on different strains of heirloom tomatoes.) 

[jincherie]

florescence | i

❀ — pairing: taehyung x reader x seokjin ❀ — genre: hybrid au, hybrid tae, hybrid jin, poly, fluff, smut (future), angst  ❀ — words: 4.7k+ ❀ — rating: sfw ❀ — warnings: lowkey highkey threat of euthanisation (wooo dystopian hybrid elements!), shy and blushing boys prepare your hearts ❀ — notes: this is written for an old old old old request! you can find it here for now, but I’ll make a post for more convenience later. besides that, I already have about 18k written for this and have barely dented what I want to include so... guess we’re in this for a bit of a long haul! I’m still in the process of guiding where I want this to go, but until then... I’m eager to kick-start it! Since I technically already posted this, I’ll post the second part relatively soon. Please enjoy! lmk what u think!!! love u!!

Okay, so maybe you’re lonely, and maybe there is something missing in your life, a void that you maybe want to fill with a companion that may or may not be of human origin... You’re perfectly content not doing anything about it though, until your best friend calls you in desperate need for your help and you suddenly end up coming home with not one, but two hybrids that may or may not have been on the way to the chopping block had you not taken them in. They’re more than a little rough around the edges, and the situation is less than ideal but... maybe the best things don’t always come in perfect, shiny packages. Maybe they just need a little time to bloom.

— posted; 28.07.2019 // masterlist || next.

Nerves have your knees wobbling slightly as you stand in place, the impressive height of the B.H. Laboratories building looming over you. Really, you’re not that anxious about what you’re about to do, yet your knee still feel slightly weak and your shoulders pinch with minute tension. Your body might be a little out of tune with your brain, you think, or perhaps the emotions attached to the physical reactions just haven’t hit you yet.

You waver in your spot, finally deciding to bite the bullet and take the handle into your grasp. It’s cool against your palm and smooth to the touch, if slightly worn. As you shift your wrist and twist the bolt, you recall the panicked and desperate voice of your friend as she’d called you barely half an hour ago. Seulgi is hardly the type to get worked up over nothing, so when you’d answered the phone to the sound of nothing but fear and urgency in her tone you’d been instantly at attention.

Your raven-haired best friend works at the massive Lab currently in front of you, filling in the role of the receptionist and taking her placements here as she completes her degree. Her ideal career path is one of science, but one of her passions and interests lies in the complex matter of hybrids. Really, this job is perfect for her—B.H. Laboratories specialise in genetic matters and in the creation of hybrids, most specifically those made to be companions. Long since passed are the days where hybrids were still new and shiny and held under the most barbaric of laws, if any. For some the strangeness and novelty has worn off since then, yet that doesn’t mean that the laws regarding hybrids have kept up with the shift in the population.

B.H. Labs, from the very beginning, have been pioneers of sorts in the field. Always pushing the limits, extending past perceived boundaries and paving the way. A lot of what Seulgi gets glimpses of is new hybrids, new combinations and variations. The goal of the company is to achieve the perfect companion for the people and the individual, and they work hard in their efforts to create such a thing.

This means that new lines and batches of hybrids are always being created, prototypes always being tested and tried out. Usually, the hybrids pass and go on to the next stage—they go to shelters for adoption while the data recorded from their stay goes towards the creation of the next batch. Usually, this is how it goes. However, there are the rare exceptions—batches that begin to vary and differ as they grow, turning out nothing like intended. Batches that don’t meet the goal of the experiment or that are lacking in some way or another, are marked as failures. If even a single hybrid of the bunch is deemed unfit, the rest are scrutinised brutally and received the blemish on their records as well. This, actually, is a topic that sparks heated debate in the community— because it’s common knowledge that at most hybrid facilities, failed batches aren’t sent to shelters like their predecessors, but instead are put down, like nothing more than the animals they are spliced with. They don’t have the opportunity to make connections for a possible home, and so the only destination that awaits them is the gallows. B.H Labs stand out from the rest here, due to their spotless record of product success. Never have they euthanised a hybrid of their making, and never has a batch or single hybrid been deemed a failure. However records and streaks of success, like all things, must come to an end eventually.

This… is why Seulgi had called you in such a frantic manner earlier.

She’d caught wind of a last-minute decision that had been made about two hybrids who had been deemed ‘failures’ for whatever reasons. They were being moved from their quarters as she spoke and are scheduled for the chopping block tonight. Seulgi is far too good a person to just stand by and just let it happen, and while floundering for any possible solution she’d come across you.

You can’t believe she remembered it, but one time you’d confessed to her while blind-rotten drunk that you were actually a little bit lonely, living by yourself in your large two-bedroom apartment as you were, and kind of longed for a companion. You’d never ever meant to let slip that you’d considered getting a hybrid, because you both held very similar views regarding them, but it had tumbled from your pouting lips nonetheless and now Seulgi is privy to one of your most embarrassing secrets. If she wasn’t your best friend and didn’t know that you’d rather cut off all four of your limbs than mistreat a hybrid, then your drunken confession might have earnt you a potent smack and the cold shoulder. As it is, all you can remember receiving was a drunk laugh and sly smile.

You didn’t think she would remember it, but clearly you were wrong because here you are now, all of a sudden about to receive not one but two hybrids in one go.

The second you step foot into the reception area your presence is noticed and a high tone pierces the air, stationery and folders cluttering against a desk along with the familiar sound of small wheels sliding across the linoleum.

“Oh, y/n, thank god you’re here.”

You turn, catching sight of Seulgi as she bolts up from her position behind the counter and darts around the desk, heading straight for you. She might have slammed straight into you if she didn’t catch herself a little before she arrived.

“I’d give you more info but we really don’t have time, they’re going to move them soon so we need to get our asses going.” She’s speaking so fast you can barely keep up and if you didn’t know her so well then you might not have understood what she was saying at all. She grips your hand and begins down the stark white and light blue hall, tugging you behind her. Fuck, okay, this is going much faster than you prepared yourself for. “Thank you so much for coming, y/n. I know you were kind of thinking of adopting only one, and from a shelter, and this is way out of the ball park of what you ever imagined but… thank you.”

At the mention of the other details you’d accidentally confessed to her while drunk that time, you blush, but choose to let it go for now. You aren’t sure why it embarrasses you exactly, but you know she doesn’t say it with ill intent and that she is stressed to high hell right now so you’re willing to ignore it.

“It’s no problem,” you say, shooting her a reassuring smile when she turns to catch your gaze. “I couldn’t live with myself if I said no, knowing what will happen if we don’t…”

Seulgi doesn’t say anything but the way her features twist into a grimace are telling enough that she knows what you mean.

“I asked them earlier if they could be spared if someone was interested in them, and they said yes but since they don’t know anyone, they’re still going ahead as per normal procedure,” the raven-haired female informs you, the two of you hastening your pace down the winding halls. Deeper into the bowels of the building you venture, Seulgi navigating with so much ease that you are sure she could do it with her eyes closed. “So long as we get there before they start the final part of the procedure, we should be good.”

Everything has gone so fast since Seulgi first called you over half an hour ago, and it continues to do so as you round corners and duck down halls. Eventually you reach a wing with walls painted pastel red instead of soft blue and your stomach churns and dips as the situation suddenly becomes much, much more real to you. Are you actually ready for the way your life is going to change in just a few short minutes? What if things go wrong, or they hate you and—

Seulgi stops suddenly, turning to you with wide eyes. “Oh, shit. I almost forgot—I should tell you before we go in there, they aren’t… from a batch that was deemed a failure.”

Your brows furrow before you can stop them, confusion on your face plain for her to see. She hurries to explain, “They’re… they’re from two previous batches. The rest of their batches were fine, but these two… something about them deemed them unfit to be pushed forward to the next stage.”

You can see the embitterment on her features as she continues, lips tugging down, “They… they were kept for a while, observed a little, but they… the next batch is larger than the last ones, and they’re clearing out the block to use all the room they have available. And with nowhere else to send them, since they weren’t ever officially cleared for release from the lab like the others that go to shelters and sellers…”

You’d come here already empathising with the poor hybrids, but your chest aches and your heart throbs even more now. It saddens you that this is happening to them, that this is their reality. The idea of how powerless and scared they must feel right now… it makes your lungs pinch and constrict in sorrow.

Seulgi swallows, turning her gaze to the side; you hadn’t noticed before but she’d stopped you right outside a frosted glass door, and if you strain your ears you can just barely hear the low tone of male voices on the other side.  The shorter female seems hesitant as she glances back to you, as though concerned that your mind has suddenly changed or something along those lines.

“Stop stressing,” you smile, pushing down the incriminatingly thick, wriggling bundle of nerves in your stomach. “I already agreed, I’m not going to turn back now. I want to help them.”

Your words ease her worries instantly, and she appears sheepish for a moment as she averts her gaze. “No, I know, I just… the thought of what would happen if I didn’t know you…”

She trails off, shaking her head before catching the reassuring gaze you send her. “Alright, let’s go in. We can’t afford to waste any more time.”

With that, she reaches for the handle of the door, swiping her personal card on the scanner beside the frame with her other hand. A beep permeates the air and the light flicks from red to green, lock clicking open. She’s quick to act, twisting the handle and bursting into the room with you hot on her heels, acting in the moment before your nerves can catch up to you.

“Wait, please wait! I brought her, I brought someone who will take them, please wait!”

The sight that greets you as you enter the room is one that you should have expected yet it still comes as a surprise. Three people dressed in slacks and button-ups with clinical coats over the top turn to face you in shock; one is by the door on the other side of the room, hand poised by the handle, and the other two are stationed either side of the remaining two figures in the room.

The hybrids, you realise instantly. You feel the breath whoosh from your lungs suddenly as they spin in place with wide, fearful eyes and you catch sight of them in all their beautiful glory.

They’re about the same height, with the same golden skin that glows nicer than it should beneath the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the lab. That is where their similarities end for the most part though, as they appear to be different hybrid types altogether, something that is consistent with what Seulgi said to you earlier. The one to the left has soft, pale reddish-coloured hair and large triangular ears with thick tufts of white on the inside. His eyes are rimmed by long, dark lashes and the iris swims citrine green-gold with dustings of cocoa by the pupil. His hips are narrower than the hybrid beside him, his posture drawn in as he hugs himself and his tail, deep russet and incredibly fluffy and thick, wraps around his long legs.

The male beside him sports soft charcoal hair, the ears settled amongst the strands speckled grey and black to match the fluffy, white-tipped tail that brushes his calves. His eyes are deep amber, gleaming gold in the light, and rimmed with dark lashes that only serve to emphasise the contrast of his irises. His shoulders are impossibly broad and his upper body tapers into hips that, while aren’t as narrow as the male beside him, are still slim and give way to long legs. Both of the hybrids are wearing the standard loose white clothes that come complimentary from the lab, and both are looking at you with mixed emotions playing on their features.

“Seulgi,” the male by the door lets out a heavy breath of relief, hand dropping from the handle completely. “Thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come—I tried to take as long as possible but there’s only so much I can stall when I have orders from the higher-ups, you know?”

Seulgi nods, her gaze flitting from the hybrids in question to the male’s face. “I know, I’m sorry I took so long, Jooheon. Are these the ones?”

The male, Jooheon, nods and begins walking over to where you are, reaching into the deep pockets of his lab coat. The other two humans in the room visibly relax at the turn the situation has taken for them.

“They are,” he affirms, gaze falling to you with what you swear is a hint of gratitude. “And this is your friend, y/n? The one who offered to take them?”

You nod along with Seulgi, and Jooheon lets out another huff of relief. “Thank god. Okay, I brought the release forms down so all you will have to do is sign and then the three of you can be out of here.”

He pulls a folded bunch of papers from the pocket, placing it along with a pen on the desk to your side that you in all honesty didn’t even notice until now. He then turns to the two hybrids, who are looking frantically from you to him with wide, confused yet somewhat hopeful eyes. Your heart gives a painful throb as you see the glossy sheen beginning to gather over them.

“You’re saved,” Jooheon breathes, and you watch as the hybrids seem to shake slightly. “This is y/n, she agreed to be your owner and take you two home to take care of you from now on. You’re safe now, you won’t need to worry about… what we talked about earlier, anymore. Okay?”

The two hybrids look like they’re about to cry, chins wobbling and lips trembling, but they manage to keep the tears at bay just a little longer. They turn to you, appearing as though they want to say something, but Jooheon takes your attention again before they get the chance.

“Alright, y/n I need you to sign here and here, on both forms,” he instructs you, holding the paper open and pointing to the areas amongst the lines of fine print that needed your signature. You take the pen and do as told, and once he is satisfied with your progress, he turns to the other two staff members that were in the room. “Hyungwon, Changkyun, you can take their wristbands off. They won’t need them. Did you bring the collars?”

They both nod, the taller one reaching into his coat pocket while the other goes about removing two thick bands from the hybrids with a tiny, specialised key. You finish scribbling your signature where it’s required just in time to receive the two simple leather collars that the tall one is holding out to you.

Now that what you guess to be the ownership forms are signed, Seulgi has visibly sagged in a combination of relief and exhaustion—she did stay here well after her shift ended to sort this all out, after all. She isn’t normally here until almost nine o’clock at night.

“Thank you, Jooheon, Hyungwon, Changkyun,” she breathes, striding forward to grasp the papers and fold them neatly. “Thank you for letting us do this.”

Jooheon shakes his head, a fond, thankful smile tugging his lips and making dimples appear on his cheeks. “No, thank you. I… I don’t know what we would have done if you two didn’t…”

The silence that falls at his words is heavy, and you look to the two hybrids to see their gazes directed at the ground, forms trembling. You want so badly to comfort them and reassure them that everything is going to be okay, that you’ll keep them safe and do everything in your power to make them happy, but you can’t bring yourself to overstep that boundary. You’re new to them, they don’t know you. The recollection of that fact makes your face heat in embarrassment at the nature of your instincts in this situation.

“It’s no problem,” you say, the first words you’ve uttered so far in this room—every gaze whips to you accordingly. You shoot Jooheon and the two hybrids a smile. “I’m happy to help. I promise to do my best.”

The male nods at that, relieved, and he turns to the two hybrids.

“Alright, you two come with me. We’ll go grab your things and make sure you have everything ready to go.” He turns to Seulgi now, “We’ll meet you at the front of the building in a few minutes, make sure to grab the guidebooks for her.”

And with that he’s grasping the two hybrids gently and leading them down the hall, disappearing from sight within moments. You don’t even notice the other two lab employees bidding you farewell until Seulgi is tugging at your arm and leading you in the direction you came from.

“Come on, let’s go,” she says, a smile tugging her lips to replace the stressed frown from earlier. You’re glad to see a brighter expression on her face. “I’ll grab those guidebooks for you then we’ll meet them out front. You caught the bus here right? I’ll drop you three home.”

x     +     x     +     x  

Barely half an hour later finds you standing on the footpath outside your unit complex, waving to a grinning Seulgi as she pulls from the curb and toots her horn in farewell. Something that you probably could have gone without, if the way the two hybrids by your side flinch is anything to go by. Silence drifts over the three of you as you watch her car disappear into the night, taillights flashing before she rounds a corner and is gone form your view. The short trip to your house was spent much in the same manner, Seulgi the main perpetrator driving the conversation as you respond occasionally from the front seat, the hybrids bunched together in the back with their tiny amounts of luggage. You’re not really a quiet person— quite the opposite, really— but you don’t want to overwhelm and intimidate your new housemates more than they already are. Thus, a majority of the trip was spent in silence.

You realise as you’re standing there that you know little to nothing about these two hybrids—there was no ‘getting to know them’ process as there might have been at a proper shelter. Normally, the procedure is that you enter the shelter, fill in application forms and tell the clerk what you’re looking for—they direct you to hybrids they think will be suitable, and then you spend some time with the hybrid to get to know them a little. Obviously, nothing like that happened tonight; actually, you’re still reeling a bit and the events that have occurred so far haven’t even caught up with you yet. You can’t find it in you to complain though, not when you know that choosing them meant that you saved them from a fate more befitting to an animal.

“Do you two have everything?” you ask suddenly, doing your best to make your voice as gentle and nonthreatening as possible. It still startles them though, and they flinch before their attention whips to you, their eyes wide—both are taller than you so it’s almost kind of comical, the way they react. When they nod you let out a hum and send them each what you hope comes across as a reassuring smile. “Excellent, please follow me and we’ll go inside.”

They do so without qualm, and you can’t help but wonder as you turn on your heel and begin to walk towards your unit—sat on the ground floor to the front of the complex and hidden behind a tiny courtyard—what exactly was quote-unquote wrong with them for them to have been marked as failures and lined up for the fate they almost faced tonight. You climb the few steps that lead to the courtyard with them in tow, making it to your front door and unlocking it with speed and practiced ease. You hold the door open for them, closing it softly after they file in.

“Alright,” you hum to yourself, moving to slip your shoes off and deposit your bag to the small table to the side. You go to face them, about to ask them what they would like to do first, when you come to a startling and embarrassing realisation.

You don’t even know their names.

The two hybrids are already looking at you as you turn to face them, soft smile on your face.

“I’m sorry,” you apologise, hands wringing somewhat nervously. The events of the past hour are only just sinking in, a jumbled mess your mind is struggling to disentangle, and it all feels so….surreal. “This has all gone pretty fast, huh? I just realised I never asked your names. I’m y/n, as you probably already guessed. And you…?”

The two of them share a glance before the one to your left, the one with raven hair and bright amber eyes, speaks first—the other shifts behind him, cheeks dusting pink as he ducks his head a little, russet-coloured strands hanging over his forehead.  

“I am Seokjin,” the male speaks clearly, but you can hear the tremble in his tone that betrays just how nervous and on edge he still is. “This is Taehyung. Th-thank you for taking us in, mistress.”

At the title he attaches to the end of his sentence you blanche, shoulders pinching in discomfort as a squeak escapes you. You reach and take his hands into yours without thinking, desperate to reassure him.

“No, please! You don’t have to call me that. I don’t know what you’ve been taught but we’re equals in this house, just y/n is fine,” you inform them, gaze flicking from one face to another. “Okay?”

The second your hands grasped his a deep blush stains Seokjin’s cheeks, his eyes wide and ears slightly pressed to his skull in what you guess is fluster. He nods when you send him a prompting look, Taehyung following suit from next to him. You allow your eyes to scan their trembling forms for a moment, taking in the way their tails press tightly to them and wind around their legs, ears half lowered. You’ve barely recovered from what almost happened to them, so you don’t doubt that they’re still caught up on the fate they oh so narrowly missed. Your heart goes out to them.

“You’re still a little shaken up, huh,” you murmur in observation, brushing your thumbs over the knuckles of the hands in your grasp before you realise what you’re doing and gently let go. You do your absolute best to fight the embarrassed flush trying to colour your cheeks as a result. “I’ll show you to your room, then you can decide if you would like to shower and freshen up or have something to eat first. Is that okay?”

Seokjin’s eyes are wide as he regards you with something akin to shock, plush lips falling open before he musters an answer for you in the form of a nod. You turn and see Taehyung shyly nodding as well, a hand reaching to grip the back of the other hybrid’s shirt as he shuffles slightly behind him. You suppress the urge to raise your brows—wow, he’s a shy one, huh? You’re a little taken aback but it’s honestly a little endearing.

“Okay, let’s go,” you say, offering them a smile again. Seokjin attempts to return it, but Taehyung is too busy staring at the floor to catch it. “My house isn’t very big, but I’ll point out places as we go.”

The two hybrids trail after you as you proceed to give them a makeshift tour, pointing out the main rooms and adding little comments of what you liked to do in there or what you use certain things for. They observe their surroundings with wide, inquisitive eyes, and the further into the house you delve you catch them sniffing subtly as they take in the different scents in your home, tails unwinding from their legs to tentatively brush wall corners and furniture. Bit by bit they seem to ease, tension fleeing their forms somewhat, and you’re glad for it. You don’t want them to be on edge for the whole night, and you don’t want them to feel uncomfortable for longer than is normal.

“—this one is my room, and this one here is yours. I’m sorry, you have to share a bed for now but I will be able to get two separate ones soon.” You run your hands through your hair sheepishly, eyes sweeping over the room for anything that shouldn’t be there. You duck in and grab a box of paints you left to the side, offering the two hybrids an embarrassed grin. “I promise I will get all this stuff out of here as soon as possible, too. Ideally I would have cleared it before you got here, but tonight was a little short-notice so… yeah.”

Taehyung is hiding behind the other male but is watching you with rapt attention over his shoulder, absorbing everything you say even if the blush on his cheeks betrays that he’d rather be averting his gaze right now. Your eyes flick to Seokjin and you catch him chewing his lip as he processes your words, amber hues flitting about the room and taking everything in.

“It is fine,” he says, offering you a small smile in reassurance. “We will be okay. You have already been more than generous enough.”

You shake your head at him, attempting to smile though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I appreciate that, but you guys deserve better than the state of the room as it is right now. I want the two of you to be happy , so… as soon as we can, we’ll get some stuff for you to decorate and make it your own… okay?”

You swear his eyes are shining as they whip and meet yours, his mouth falling open once more as he struggles to form a response. You clear your throat, speaking so he doesn’t have to.

“Just there is your bathroom. I have one attached to my room, so that one is just for you two,” you inform them, fingers wringing nervously again. “We can maybe go tomorrow and get everything we need, but it would be really helpful if you guys thought about what you want and maybe make a list? I’m happy to get whatever.”

They seem taken aback at your words, not for the first time tonight, but nod nonetheless. You let a bright smile onto your face. “Awesome, thanks. You can pop your bags in here—would you like to shower and freshen up first, or do you want some food?”

The hybrids share a look, and Seokjin turns back, opening his mouth to answer when two loud grumbles pierce the air. Both hybrids flush bright pink, mortified, but you just laugh.

Guess that answers your question, then.

a/n: please let me know what you think! i hope you liked it, i’m excited for more to come :) 

also as always, please feel free if you like my works to support me by buying me a coffee!! and if you enjoyed this, please let me know by liking and/or reblogging <3 next.

[ryqoshay]

Putting on Hairs: Favorable Dress

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Hinted: KotoUmi Words: ~2.4k Rating: G? Maybe mild T for one of the implications...? AU: Theater, Werewolf, Werebeast, Monster, Cryptid, Angelic, Demonic

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Author’s Note: I honestly can’t remember the last time I’ve written this much in this short of time...

Summary: Riko is hoping Kotori and Yoshiko can make a dress for her. But nothing is free...

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Riko approached the costume department with severe trepidation. Her heart was actively trying to pound itself out of her chest at the thought of facing her. Well, not her specifically, she knew she would feel this way about anyone of her kind. But right now, she was the one here.

But, of all the places in this amazing, wonderful world, why did she have to fall here? In this country? In this city? And now she was working at the same theater where Riko had just recently been hired.

Of course, the very same thing could be asked of Riko herself. Why did she have to flee to this particular island off the main coast? Choose this particular city? Accept a position playing the piano in the orchestra pit of this particular theater?

Was this all His idea of a cruel joke?

It was bad enough that she had stood so close during the meeting earlier in the day where the theater’s premiere patron was introduced. Why did she have to do that? Did she not sense Riko like she sensed her? Was she not uncomfortable with Riko’s presence as Riko was with hers?

Riko sighed. Why was she even doing this? Well, she needed a dress. But surely, she could just go find one at a local shop, right? Did she really need to deal with her to have one made special? But the examples she had see so far were just… otherworldly; so much better than anything she had seen window shopping around the area.

“Ah, Riko-chan!” An ashen blonde head poked into the hallway, startling Riko. “Yoshiko-chan was right when she said you were coming. Welcome! Come on in!” Kotori ushered the redhead into the room.

“Pardon the intrusion…” Riko said as she stepped through the door, immediately needing to resist the urge to turn back and run.

There she was, black wings spread wide in all their glory and looking as powerful as any other angel, despite her fallen status. And she was… trimming fur from a black kitten in her lap? What?

Yoshiko looked up with a surprisingly cheerful smile. “Welcome to Hell Zone, Riko!”

“Hell… Zo… eh?” Riko’s gaze flitted fervently around the room, seeking hellforged artifacts or demonic runes or something, anything that might imbue the area with the powers of Hell. And while she certainly sensed auras radiating off most of the equipment and tools, nothing appeared to be of infernal or divine origin.

“Or would you prefer I call you Pirum?”

“Eehhh?!” Riko aborted her vain attempts to scour the room as Yoshiko uttered her true name.

“Kind of a strange name for a demon, though…” Yoshiko continued as if she hadn’t noticed Riko’s reaction. “Do you guys even have pears down there?”

“Now, now, Yoshiko-chan,” Kotori chided playfully “we shouldn’t scare our clients like that. Now, what can we do for you, Riko-chan?”

“Uhm…” Riko fidgeted with her fingers, trying desperately to resist fleeing. “Kurosawa-san recommended I check with you about having a dress made for an upcoming recital?”

“Of course!” Kotori chirped. “We would be happy to make something for you.”

“She, uhm, didn’t give me an idea about pricing though…”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that.” Kotori smiled. “You’re in the orchestra here, right?”

“Yes… but…”

“So, we’ll make the dress for you and you can just owe us a favor.”

Something about the sparkle in the costume designers eye made Riko feel a bit ill at ease. More so than she already was.

“I’m not sure…”

“Surely you know about favors, right?” Yoshiko spoke up. “Your boss’s boss is fond of them, right?” She offered a decidedly devilish grin.

“Uhm…” Riko felt her knees start to shake.

“Don’t mind them.” A deep, masculine voice said from… somewhere. Riko couldn’t readily identify the source. “They’re just teasing you.”

“Phobetor.” Yoshiko gently swatted the kitten in her lap.

Wait, that had been the cat that spoke? But its mouth hadn’t moved. How… Then again, it wasn’t the strangest thing Riko had seen, here or down below.

“Sorry if we scared you.” Kotori giggled. “I am serious about the favor, but don’t worry, it won’t be anything beyond what you’re capable of giving.”

“What… did you have in mind?”

“Hrm…” Kotori considered for a moment. “Would you mind show me your wings?”

“Eh? My… my wings?”

“Yes, please.” Kotori nodded. “You’re a demon, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a demon’s wings. Are they feathered like Yoshiko-chan’s or leathery and bat-like or skeletal like in some movies?” She seemed to be getting pretty excited about the concept.

“Uhm… could we maybe… close the door first?” Riko requested meekly.

She realized that was closing off her easiest route of escape, but unless it was imbued with some anti-demon inscription or blessed or whatever, it wouldn’t actually prove much of a barrier to her. Also, despite her persisting fear, something in the back of her mind had begun insisting she could trust these two. Or three, really.

Yoshiko hadn’t attacked her on sight. Kotori obviously knew her nature and wasn’t afraid or hateful, rather she seemed genuinely intrigued. And while they had both teased her, neither had been malicious. Even Yoshiko’s mention of her true name had seemed more like an honest, if again teasing, question than some attempt to wield power over her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Riko unfurled her wings.

Kotori’s eyes grew wide in awe. “They’re beautiful…” She marveled.

Riko blushed. She’d never heard that word associated with her wings before.

“Can I…?” Kotori reached forward.

Riko offered a weak nod before flinching a little as the designer’s hands began exploring.

“Definitely bat-like.” Kotori murmured, moving her fingers gently across the membrane. “A little drier than I expected, but still, lovely material. These will do nicely.”

“M-material?” Riko instinctively snapped her wings back in. “Are you saying you want me to trade my wings for a dress?”

“Not in their entirety.” Kotori replied. “Just a clipping. A little goes a long way, especially when imbued with such power.”

“Uhm…”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea, Kotori.” Yoshiko spoke up.

“Oh?” The lead designer asked.

“Because demon wings are different than those of an angel, or a crane.” The blue-haired girl explained. “I mean, I’m no expert in demon physiology, but I’m pretty sure she’s got veins and nerves and stuff running throughout. It’s probably hurt her more than when you or I just pluck our feathers; certainly more than trimming Phobetor’s fur.”

“Although,” Phobetor spoke again “with her regeneration, she could very quickly heal the amount I assume you would be taking.”

“Yeah, but…” Yoshiko started.

“And if I recall correctly, that Kanata girl can adjust her abilities to numb rather than put to sleep. She’d be fully regenerated before she actually felt anything.”

Kanata? “Konoe-san?” Riko asked. “I thought I felt another demonic presence here.”

“Indeed.” Phobetor stood and stretched before yawning. “Although she is here for different reasons than you. While she is here to feed, you seem more interested in music. Pray tell, did you grow weary of playing Hell’s music and came to Earth for a change of pace?”

Riko blinked. “How… how did you know?”

“One of my primary duties is to run reconnaissance and monitor all local entities that could pose a threat to my master.” The cat explained. “Celestials, especially demons, are always worth investigation.”

“I see… wait, so you’ve been spying on me?”

“Indeed. And I have determined that you are not a threat to my master, Ms. Pirum.”

“… Oh…” Whatever was left of Riko’s fear was displaced entirely by embarrassment. “I see, well… uhm… Anyway, Riko is fine…”

“Very well. Riko it is.” Phobetor gave a single, curt nod. “Though it must be said that my assessment is not an indictment upon your power. You are still a demon after all. Rather, I have determined you to be far too… demure, for lack of a better word.”

“… Oh…”

“Also, your reading proclivities are quite… interesting, I must say.”

“Eh?”

“Oh? What kinda books do ya read, Riko?” Yoshiko perked up suddenly. “Earth is filled with a ton of strange tomes and some of their ideas on magic and such are utterly baffling. Though there are some amazing artists who create some amazing manga and doujin. Humans can tell such wonderful stories.”

“D… doujin…” Riko felt herself blush.

“Yeah, have you ever been to Comiket? Mortals sure know how to celebrate their hobbies.”

“She has attended.” Phobetor confirmed.

“Phobetor…” Riko whined.

“Really?” Yoshiko became even more excited. “Maybe we should go together this year.”

“… Maybe…”

“I do believe your tastes are vastly different, though.” Phobetor said.

“Oh? What kinda stuff do you like, Riko?” Yoshiko asked again.

“Uhm…” Riko hesitated.

“Her preferred reading material is…”

“<Stay thy tongue, meddlesome furball!>” Riko snarled in an ancient demonic language.

The other three occupants in the room stared at her in stunned silence.

Riko’s hands flew up to clamp across her mouth as heat exploded across her cheeks, spreading quickly to her ears and down her neck.

Yoshiko snorted.

“I’m… I’m so sorry…” Riko cried, her voice muffled through her fingers. “I didn’t mean…”

Yoshiko burst out laughing. Kotori giggled.

“I thought… you said… she was too demure…” Yoshiko managed get out between bouts.

“That seemed like the best description at the time.” Phobetor stated matter-of-factly.

“Are you… sure… she’s not a… threat?”

“My assessment remains unchanged.”

Why in the nine circles did you have to go and do that, of all things? Riko berated herself. She was so embarrassed she felt she could die and go back to Hell. Well, maybe not. She really had no desire to return.

“There, all done.” Kotori suddenly announced.

“Eh?” Riko came back to reality. “Done? Done with what?”

“Your measurements.”

“Measure…”

“For your dress.”

“Yes, I know, but… when did you…?”

“While you, Yoshiko-chan and Phobetor-chan were talking.”

“I didn’t even notice.” Riko admitted.

Kotori smiled. “I’ll draw up some proposed designs and give them to you tomorrow.” she explained. “Once you decide on one you like, we can get to choosing fabrics.”

“Alright.” Riko agreed. “Oh, uhm… about the favor…”

“Oh, don’t worry about the wing thing.” Kotori dismissed. “We’ll think of something else, it’s fine.”

“Well, if you don’t mind my asking, what did you intend to do with the trimmings?”

“Make leather of course. There are a lot of costumes and accessories that need leather, belts, shoes, jackets, all sorts of things.”

“So, it would be used for the theater?”

“Of course!” Kotori chirped. “Everything I do is for Umi-chan’s theater.”

“Unless someone else like Riko comes and wants something made for a non-theater event.” Yoshiko pointed out.

“Well, yes, but the favors we ask in return always benefit the theater.”

“That’s true.” The fallen angel conceded.

Riko steeled herself for what she was about to say. “I’ll do it. You can use some of my wings to make costumes for the theater.”

Kotori’s eyes widened as she inhaled with excitement. “Really?” She grabbed Riko’s hands and pulled herself closer. “You’ll let me make celestially imbued leather?”

“Y-yes...”

“Oh, thank you, Riko-chan!” Kotori surged forward and wrapped her arms around the redhead.

“Hey, Phobetor,” Yoshiko addressed her cat “you wanna go tell Kanata she’s on notice for numbing duties?”

“Will do.”

With that, Phobetor blinked out of existence. Is he a teleporter? Riko wondered.

“Well, we don’t have to do it right away.” Kotori said, pulling out of the hug. “I won’t collect payment until I know my customer is satisfied with the product I am selling them.”

Yoshiko shrugged. “We’re only putting her on notice.”

“Message has been delivered.” Phobetor’s voice sounded before he popped back into the room. “She said it would only take her a second, so we can have her do so whenever we are ready.”

“Only a second, huh?” Yoshiko pondered something for a moment. “I wonder if her sleep spell works that fast too.”

“I would imagine it takes effect quickly, for the sake of facilitating faster feeding.”

“You mentioned feeding before.” Riko said. “She’s not… eating people… is she?”

“Their dreams.” Phobetor responded. “She calls herself a Somnophore, though I believe Somnophage would be more accurate. But who am I to judge such things?” The cat seemed to almost shrug. “I am surprised you did not know.”

“I sensed she was a fellow demon.” Riko admitted. “But I hadn’t had a chance to determine what kind.”

“I’d let her feed on my dreams…” Yoshiko seemed lost in thought.

“Why, do you want her to put you to sleep, Yoshiko-chan?” Kotori asked.

Yoshiko chuckled. “It would help some nights.”

“Well, Kanata-chan seems to love the pillow I made for her.” Kotori explained. “It’s stuffed with a special blend of our feathers and she says it works wonders.”

“A pillow, huh?” Yoshiko turned her head and shifted one of her wings over for inspections. “I never thought about making one of those.”

“I’d be happy to show you how.”

“Alright.” Yoshiko agreed. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t make one for your precious Umi.”

“Of course, I made one for Umi-chan.” Kotori giggled. “But that was years ago, long before I came here. So that one was made with just my feathers. I made one for Honoka-chan then as well.” Her eyes sparkled as she seemed to be reviewing fond memories. “They still have them to this day.”

“Anyway, we should probably get back to work.” Yoshiko hopped up to her feet and moved across the room. “And I know you have rehearsals coming up. It was nice meeting you, Riko.” She smiled and reaching out a hand.

“Likewise.” Riko agreed, accepting the handshake.

“Phobetor tells me you’re quite good on the piano. Which makes sense, given who you serve under.”

“Well, not really.” Riko shook her head. “Not anymore.”

“Ah, I see.” Yoshiko nodded. “I can empathize completely. I haven’t served Him in a good long while.”

“Mm…”

“Anyway, I still look forward to hearing you play.” She grinned. “Maybe Kotori will let me out of this hell every once in a while, so I can head upstairs and listen a few times.”

“Awuuu…” Kotori pouted. “Yoshiko-chan, don’t make me out to be like some hellish taskmaster.” She blinked and turned to Riko. “No offense.”

Riko chuckled. “None taken. There’s certainly no shortage of taskmasters down there. That’s part of why I came up here.” With that said, she turned toward the door. “I’ll see you two… sorry, three, later.”

Words of departure and well wishes followed Riko into the hallway, and as she walked, her thoughts remained on the individuals she had just met. They were an interesting group, to say the least. But friendly, even to a demon like her. Maybe… perhaps, just maybe, working in close proximity to an angel wouldn’t be all that bad after all.

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Author’s Notes Continued in Followup Post

[sagemoderocklee]

Writer ask meme - everything divisible by 3

Sorry this took so long to reply to! I was writing out my responses today, but while watching Rosewell New Mexico with my roommate and that show is SO good. anyways this is really, really long so I will put part of it under a read more however if you are reading TAoL and want a sneak peak at an upcoming chapter, my answer to 36 is the entire first scene for that chapter

3. What is your favorite/least favorite part about writing? Other than the obvious writer's block, I think that my least favorite part is feeling insecure/wanting validation via comments and such. Writing is something I really enjoy doing and take great pride in trying to grow as a writer, but it's impossible to completely shake off that feeling of insecurity and sadness over something that doesn't get comments. There's this common thing in fandom where like you can pour a lot of heart and energy into something, be really skilled, only for it to get overlooked. There's obviously a lot of reasons for that, but some of those reasons are kind of annoying—like god forbid something not have sex in it, ya know?

6. Favorite character you’ve written?

So, that's hard.... If we're talking the canon Naruto characters, it can really vary from story to story. I obviously enjoy writing Gaara and Lee, but I was surprised to find that I really enjoy writing Shikamaru, Kankurou, Temari, Neji, and Tenten as well. I think all of them are really interested, have a lot of potential, and are fun in very different ways. Kankurou is definitely just flat out fun to write, and I think Tenten is very similar in the way she's fun to write. I think this like handful of characters are all faves for very different reasons so it's hard to say who my absolute fave is, but I really enjoy writing all of them. Definitely my fave thing is being able to write all of them interacting together, however.

9. Favorite/least favorite tropes?

Least: Soulmates. I hate that shit with a passion—it's boring, it's artificial, it's easy. There was a post I just saw recently that said “soulmates are stupid. I love you on purpose” and that just sums up so much of my issue with soulmates. If something is predetermined by some fucking cosmic power, do you really ever love that person? Do you really ever know that person? Soulmate AUs will always be something that bore me and also insight anger. It's just not for me, and I wish that fandom spaces would just get over it, in all honesty. Fave: uh. I don’t really know about like trope-wise. I just really like anything with good world building and politics.

12. Which story of yours do you like best? Why? Oh gosh.... um. That's really hard to answer because every story I write has a special place in my heart for different reasons. Alliance is my baby; TAoL is a huge emotional investment and has allowed me to grow even more as a writer; Absolution is something I've always wanted to explore; Flyweight Love is super fun and cute; IEYH is a new experiment in writing for me; GoD was also an experiment... and on and on. It's hard to pick like a favorite story because like they're all my faves in different ways. There are certainly things I like more or prefer, like I'm not that into modern Aus as much so it's easier for me to say that like Find Me isn't a one of my best—it isn't, there's a lot of things I want to fix on it, and while it is a decent fic, it's not like groundbreaking imo. But like for all of the things that need fixing with Alliance, that fic is my baby and really grounded me as a writer in a way no other writing project had before it. So like I could never not love it. Anyways, I'm babbling at this point, but basically I love all my fics so I can't choose.

15. How do you deal with self-doubt when writing? Rereading my writing tends to help and hoarding some of my favorite comments I've been left by readers. I know I'm a good writer, self-doubt and insecurities aside, so re-reading stuff is really a good confidence booster—but when that's not enough, it is really helpful to look back at old comments.

18. Tell us about that one book you’ll never let anyone read

Of mine??? Well, obviously by 'book' we're going with fanfiction because none of my original content is at a point where I'd really even consider it for this question. Um. Honestly, I don't think there's much if anything. Maybe some HP fics but not because I'm not like... proud of the writing or premise. Like I'd say my ideas are really good, it's just a matter of like my own time management and shit.

21. What aspect of your writing are you most proud of?

My world building. I'm also generally proud of the premises I come up with, and the themes I explore with my writing. Like I think I'm a good writer in terms of the like technical writing aspect—pros and such—and also characters, but I think I excel at world building and overall plot.

24. Do you remember the moment you decided to become a writer/author? The first time I ever wrote anything I was seven years old. I was at a party for my mom's boss? I think it was a birthday party? Anyway, I was the only kid there—which was fine because I was used to being the only kid in gatherings—but I was sitting alone by like a window and I just like started writing a poem about the night. That was like the first time that writing really became a part of me. When I was thirteen, when my mom got sick, I started writing poetry more. And when I was fourteen, I started writing fanficiton and that's kinda just... never stopped. I've been writing stories ever since.

27. Every writer’s least favorite question - where does your inspiration come from? Do you do certain things to make yourself more inspired? Is it easy for you to come up with story ideas?

My inspiration comes from everywhere, not to like be cliched. But inspiration really is in everything and everyone. I tend to find inspiration really easily in music, but it's also in just like the day-to-day; it's in other writers; it's in washing dishes; it's in a day trip to the ocean; it's in a quote or a touch or a word. Like genuinely, it's in big things and little things and things that shouldn't even be things. I don't feel like I really struggle with inspiration so much as motivation, really. And that is... a much harder thing to find sometimes (especially when you're mentally ill)

30. Do you like to read books similar to your project while you’re drafting or do you stick to non-fiction/un-similar works?

Um. I like to read fantasy mostly, but I don't look for something similar or different from my projects intentionally. I just.... look for things that I like? But I don't really know how to explain that lol

33. What’s your revision/rewriting process like? Since I'm writing mostly fanfiction and the culture of having a beta reader has dwindled significantly, making it hard to find one, I do a lot of self-editing. I'm usually re-reading a lot as I'm writing. So until a chapter is done, I'm always going back and reading/editing before moving on to the next scene. And then once I'm done writing a chapter I'll usually edit it about two or three times in full in the document, then I put it in draft on Ao3 for another edit before posting.

36. Post a snippet All right a snippet..... Let's go with something from: The Art of Love, Chapter 13 (not the next chapter, but the one after). Since I left everyone hanging for so long with that last scene of Gaara and Lee, this is the entire first scene to ch13: It was all his fault. If he hadn't let himself get so carried away in the dream of Gyokukakushin, in the dream of Gaara, in the dream of safety they didn't have this wouldn't be happening. Their belongings had been stuffed haphazardly into their various bags. Despite how many times he'd checked and double checked, Lee felt sure that he'd overlooked something—some wayward item that had rolled beneath the bed or fallen behind the desk that would give them away. Gaara had watched him silently, his thoughts kept to himself as Lee dashed about their room like a mad man.

“I think that is everything,” Lee managed over the mantra of 'My fault, my fault' cycling through his mind. His voice trembled as he spoke. Every inch of him trembled. Every breath he took rattled in his chest. Every beat of his heart was a stutter against his rib cage. Every ounce of blood pumping through his veins burned with the need to run.

“This is useless,” Gaara said, the first words he'd spoken since the beach.

Lee snapped his head up, meeting Gaara's enigmatic gaze. “But—”

“They don't set sail until the end of the month,” he reminded Lee. “What use is being packed? Besides, it will look suspicious if we leave now.”

Tears burned at the corners of Lee's eyes. “But if they are coming—”

“They're coming,” Gaara murmured. “But even if they arrive before we've departed, we have our disguises. You have to trust that we'll be fine.”

Lee's head spun. How could Gaara be so calm? How could he sit there, quiet and unshakable, when Lee felt as though the world were falling apart around them? How could he be so sure that eleven days from now, they'd set sail, free and undiscovered? How was he not furious with Lee for his complacency?

Gaara was at Lee's side before Lee could shake the spinning in his head, a gentle hand at Lee's elbow and a surety in his eyes.

“I know you won't let anything happen to me,” he told Lee, as soft and insistent as the thumb he'd once pressed against the corner of Lee's mouth.

“No. Never.” Lee's stomach twisted, guilt rising like the tide. He'd let his feelings jeopardize everything.

“Then what do you have to fear?”

A trembling laugh escaped Lee, soft and unsteady. He had everything to fear, yet Gaara's gaze implored him to forget those fears. He managed to speak, his tongue heavy with the lie, “I do not know.”

“Then do not know fear. It will make this harder for us, especially if the Daimyo's soldiers arrive before we've left.”

“If they do—”

“If they do, we will be as unknown to them as any other traveler. And if not, I trust your speed to carry us to safety.”

“We would miss our ship.”

“If it comes to that, so be it. We can find other ways of traveling to Tea Country.”

Lee allowed himself to believe all would be well because he couldn't believe anything else when looking into the depths of Gaara's eyes, but there was no escaping his gnawing guilt or the knowledge that his heart had led them to ruin.

39. Do you spend a lot of time analyzing and studying the work of authors you admire? I wouldn't say a lot of time per say, certainly not as much as I should, but I definitely do like to analyze other works and learn new skills, etc.

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied? I don't really write “drafts” per say. Since I'm just writing fanfiction, I'm usually just writing and then heavily editing. Sometimes editing does mean taking out and entirely rewriting entire scenes. And sometimes in writing fics, I do jump ahead—though very rarely—and write a rough draft of a future scene so I don't lose the idea/beats/etc, and then that will be re-written fully when I do get to it. But on average, I'm just doing a lot of editing.

45. First or third person? Third, definitely. I'll never be able to write first person cause it just doesn't really suit me and, overall, I think that it's a very hard point of view to write from. For me, it takes a special

48. Do you prefer to write skimpy drafts and flesh them out later, or write too much and cut it back? So before I write something, depending on what it is I will write an outline that can vary from a few sentences to like pages.

51. Are you a secretive writer or do you talk with your friends about your books? A bit of both really. I love talking about the things I'm working on, but I also love to keep things a surprise so I can see what people's genuine reactions are to like plot twists or whatever. Of course, my problem is that I have to like—talk about my projects to stay motivated. It's a hard balance. I usually end up talking with my roommate since they also write fanfic for Naruto but not GaaLee. We can bounce ideas off each other, when we're stuck, etc.

54. Favorite first line/opening you’ve written? Ugh this is another hard one...  I think im gonna go with the opening from IEYH right now as one of my fave becuase I think I did a decent job of setting the tone of my very first horror project: Too often, ghost stories begin with dark nights or horrible, gruesome death. Real ghosts don't follow the patterns of a novel; there are no beginnings, middles, and ends; no rising action and falling action; no denouement. Ghosts do not achieve resolution; ghost do not experience the climax of their own tale. There are no happy—or even sad—endings. There are no endings at all.

Ghost stories go on and on and on, rambling endlessly towards nothing and no where, only stopping for the finite amount of words one can speak or write in one's lifetime.

That is the true horror of death: ceaseless, unending nothingness.

[2manyfandoms2count]

Dear Chat Noir

Sigh... I really wanted this to be a one-shot. Desperately so. And then I wanted the premise to fit into one chapter. I really did. And then for both premise chapters to be ready before @auyeahaugust was over. Oh well.

Here’s chapter 1 of Dear Chat Noir, my ML Penpal AU (day 25 of AU Yeah August). Chapter 2 should be up soon!

Read on AO3

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Chapter 1: Of mysterious findings

If you asked Adrien Agreste to describe himself, he would have said he was a somewhat normal child. Should you ask anyone else, their answers would range from “who?” to “a child prodigy”. 

Adrien lived a secluded life in his family’s mansion, away from any distractions, as his father called anything that wasn’t piano practise or fencing training. Every school was considered a waste of time for his son’s intelligence, leading to private tutors to be taken on to satisfy Gabriel Agreste’s education standards. Adrien’s experience of the outside world was limited to being driven to these activities, if they couldn’t take place within the four walls that surrounded the Agreste Hôtel Particulier, and a weekly Sunday evening walk at the Jardin du Luxembourg with his bodyguard. The latter was the only tradition he’d managed to maintain after his mother’s passing. It wasn’t the same without her, but he did enjoy the fresh air. 

He’d also had a brief time in the spotlight as a model for his father’s fashion brand, but Gabriel Agreste had not looked on his son’s increased freedom and contacts with people his age with a favourable eye, and had restricted any unnecessary interactions.

Adrien was therefore left alone with his thoughts most of the time. Part of him wished he could go out more and meet other children, but he knew from his father he was very lucky to be living the life he was. And it was true he couldn’t really complain: he lived in a palace, by Parisian standards, was well fed, well dressed, and was receiving the best education he could ever hope for. Some people had it a lot worse than he did.

Still, he found himself dreaming that one day, maybe, he’d have a little more freedom. With no one to talk about it with, his father’s assistants all siding with the man who held the money if he tried to confide in them, Adrien had taken the habit of putting his thoughts to paper. It had been sporadic at first, but had soon evolved into a daily exercise. He sat in his bed at night, his gigantic room only lit by a little flashlight, and poured out his emotions.

Dear Plagg, the boy wrote that night. He had started addressing his letters to a fictional friend to make himself feel better. Once upon a time, he had tried journaling, but had soon discovered his inner thoughts were not as safe as he’d thought they’d be in the little notebook he kept in one of his fencing trophies; he’d noticed pages had been torn from flicking through them too fast, some had been cornered to mark certain parts, clearly indicating he wasn’t the book’s only reader. He’d therefore moved on to writing his entries on loose paper, which he hid in a little tin box next to a fountain in the Jardin du Luxembourg. He’d soon taken to the game of writing the letters, even enclosing them in envelopes. Between two visits to the park, he would stash them in various locations in his room, making sure the seals stayed intact.

Adrien tried to vary the contents of his letters, even though no one would read them, and nothing particularly exciting happened to him on a day to day basis. He found it kept him focused on the small joys of his life, like when the cook smuggled him an extra croissant, a fragrant flower bloomed in the garden, or he spotted a ladybug on the window while studying. 

He signed the letter the usual way: Until next time, Chat Noir. He read through the letter again, satisfied with the result. Journaling really did wonders to improve his mood. Even if the negative feelings did remain somewhat, it felt good to “share” a little, even though his letters had yet to be found by anyone, or anything. The letter would join the others the next Sunday, and he wouldn’t think twice about it. 

Or so he thought.

--- 

“Tikki!” Marinette Dupain-Cheng chased after the turbulent dog, whose leash had once again escaped her hands while she admired one the Luxembourg statues. She wasn’t very good with dogs, but when her old neighbour Mr Fu had fallen ill, she’d bravely accepted to walk Tikki until he felt better. She’d figured it wouldn’t be very hard, given how calm the dog was. 

Apparently Mr Fu was an animal whisperer, though, because the dog had been nothing but excited since she’d taken custody of her. It was cute, but Marinette was also tired of running around, Tikki being particularly good at losing her in the park’s alleys. 

The young girl sighed as she saw the leash drag around a corner, and slowed her pace. She knew the Jardin du Luxembourg quite well thanks to its central location in Paris, making it a prime spot to meet up with friends. Tikki had just dashed into a dead end; the worst that could happen was her jumping into the Medicis Fountain, but she hoped the barriers that surrounded it would prevent that. 

Turning into the alley, Marinette saw her prayers had seemingly been answered, as Tikki was busy sniffing at something under a stone bench. The Parisian walked up to her, marvelling at the fountain as she did so. The leafy trees surrounding it provided a nice dappled lighting and welcome shade on the hot summer Saturday. The babbling of the water and its gentle sprays only accentuated the cool atmosphere. 

Marinette sat on the bench, picked up Tikki’s leash and gently tried to pull her out from under her seat, but encountered a great resistance.

“What have you found there, girl?” Marinette asked, slightly concerned by the dog’s pining. She leaned over and tried to determine what had caught Tikki’s attention, hoping it would be a lost ball. She had seen rats scuttle around the park a couple of times, and had no interest in coming face to face with one, whether alive or dead.

She looked down and saw Tikki was pawing at a tin biscuit box, pushed deep under the bench, almost in the little hedge that stood behind it. Marinette smiled and shook her head, reading the inscription from afar: Macarons. That dog really did only think with her stomach.

“You know you’re not supposed to eat those, they’re not for you.” Marinette scratched the dog’s neck. Seeing that it didn’t divert her attention, she sighed and kneeled down next to the bench, reaching for the box herself. “You know, I’m sure you’re going to be disappointed, I don’t know if you’re aware but most tin boxes these days don’t actually contain food.” She explained, although she wasn’t sure her audience was very receptive to her words. 

Marinette pulled out the box, which was a lot lighter than she’d expected. She shook it gently next to Tikki’s ear to prove it did not contain treats, and was surprised to hear a soft ruffle, like paper. She sat on the bench again and laid the box on her lap. Her hands hovered over it, hesitant to open it. 

She looked around suspiciously, watching out for anyone trying to pull a prank on her, or just its innocent owner, but the area was empty. 

I really shouldn’t open it, she thought to herself. The box looked quite clean for something that was hidden. It was probably used often, or had been dropped off recently. Had it been hers, she probably wouldn’t have liked to know someone had gone through it. Tikki licked the box gently, which Marinette interpreted as “no one has to know”.

“Okay, fine, I’m doing it for you. It’ll be our secret.” She nodded gravely at the dog and lifted the edges of the lid.

She didn’t know what she’d expected to find. Maybe a bunch of little trinkets, like in the movie Amélie. Perhaps a badly hidden stash of money. Whatever it had been, it definitely wasn’t a collection of letters, all sporting the same handwriting on the envelopes. Tikki looked into the box curiously.

“See, I told you so.” Marinette tilted the box towards the dog. “Nothing in there for you.”

She carefully picked the first envelope. It had the previous Sunday’s date on it. Nothing else.

She was about to look at the next one when her phone rang. She jumped at the sound, almost spilling the box’s contents as she did so, and fished the device out of her handbag. A picture of her parents appeared on the lit screen. Marinette looked at the time and swore internally. She’d been out for over an hour, when she’d said she was only going to be half an hour. She hastily put the letters back in the tin, and slid the latter back under the bench.

“Come on Tikki, time to go home.”

--- 

As she lay in bed that night, Marinette couldn’t stop thinking about the box and its contents. It had just been so odd for it to be there. Who, in their right mind, stored their letters in a public garden? Surely there were better hiding places in an apartment, or wherever the author lived.

Speaking of the author, she found it weird that there’d only seemed to be one, if she could tell from the neatly traced dates on the envelopes she’d seen. It therefore didn’t seem like a makeshift postbox, like the one in Little Women. 

She’d definitely have to investigate the matter the next day.

[jaehyunsuh]

trust

—pairing: idol! Taeyong x reader

—genre: au/ fluff/ boyfriend! Taeyong

—words count: + 1k

summary: for a long time you have felt pretty lonely and sad, yes you have friends and stuff but they always are making comments that make you feel upset or uncomfortable and sometimes they don't even seem to care about what you think or say. In university some people are really nice but the majority just use you since you are so kind to everyone, you don't want to change your personality since you know it's better to help people and be nice rather then treat them like sh*t. You just need a friend, someone you can trust and tell your problems to, hopefully you will find it soon. You could talk to your boyfriend Taeyong but he is already so stressed with his idol life, that is enough to him.

today you were able to get out early from your job so you decide to walk home, so like that you can explore the city, look at the the people, breathe fresh air and clear your mind a bit. You usually take a taxi or something because you are tired but it's 4pm and the weather it's nice so it seems like a good day to go for a walk.

lately you have felt pretty lonely, people lately hasn't been the best to you lately, since you are so smart and offer to help people when you say no they start telling you mean stuff and are so stupid, you really don't mind about people's comments or anything but having no one to talk to makes you overthink stuff, by luck you distract yourself cooking, painting and working so like that it doesn't affect your mental health.

Taeyong is the best boyfriend you could ask for but you are used to be the one who gives him advices and makes him feel better since he is constantly under stress, so you decide not to overwhelming with your problems and keep them to yourself.

you walk past a buddhist temple you have seen before but never were curious of walking, you have never been really religious or anything but  today you felt like visiting it, those structures were big, beautiful and amazing, it truly left you impressed. You walk and see some tourists looking outside the place, you are able to see the inside if you are quiet and respectful, so you decide to climb the stairs. You see a boy bowing at the giant Buda figure inside the temple, it was really beautiful and breathtaking, he gets up and walks to the entrance were you are standing. 

"Uhm excuse me." You say reaching to the boy. He looks at you scared and kind flinches. You looked at him confused.

"I'm really curious about this religion and i have never knew anything about it, so would you mind to tell me a little bit about this?." The boy's body relax a little bit looks at you up and down 

"My name is y/n by the way." You extent his hand to him and he shakes it. 

"I'm Daniel." He gives a sweet smile. He tells you to see somewhere around the temple so he can talk better to you.

"Well i don't really consider myself religious but buddhism sees life as a process of constant change, and its practices aim to take advantage of that. It means that one can change for the better."

"Wow, that's really beautiful." You say impressed.

"Yes, it's good! Also they practise meditation, which is a way of developing more positive states of mind that are characterised by calm, concentration, awareness, and emotions. Using the awareness developed in meditation it is possible to have a fuller understanding of oneself, other people, and of life itself." He explains.

"It really sound fascinating, how did you get into it?" You never knew there was a religion that teach such necessary and important things like those.

"Well my parents are buddhists so I've been into it since i was young. Like i said i was never really into it but since I'm 18 I've always need something to keep me mentally stable and help me relax so i started coming here often." He gives a kind smile.

"That's really cool, I'm glad you found something that gives you peace, that's really what i need right now." You sigh.

"Well if you are not into religion you can do yoga, start meditating by yourself or you can talk to me!" He suddenly changes and starts being more open and friendly.

"Thank you, you are so nice. I think ill take all three." You laugh.

you continue to talk about your stuff and you tell him all the things that you have been feeling lately, he gave you some advices here and there about how to distract yourself from those negative thoughts and move on from this toxic people. You feel so thankful that this total stranger it's actually listening to you and being interested in what you have to say. You talked about college, your job, the music you're into and how you how much you love painting and cooking.

"Well, thank you so much for telling me about this, i found it pretty interesting."

you decided to exchange numbers and talk with each other, he said that every time he could go to the buddhist temple he will meet you outside and talk to you and maybe go and eat something. You have been seeing each other for around one month now and it has really helped your mental state, he teach you some breathing excercises that helped your anxiety and tried to meet a couple timed at week to do yoga.

Taeyong's POV

y/n has been kinda weird lately, she doesn't talks or says any important stuff to him anymore, she just talks about college stuff and the netflix show she is watching, also she goes out almost everyday and comes back later at afternoon, so it is making him Taeyong worried if she is seeing someone else. He doesn't want to sound mean or anything but he knows y/n doesn't has friends anymore, just the ones back in her country, but here in Seoul many people has been fake, treat her bad and been fake because she is dating and idol. He tries not to overthink and keep trusting his girlfriend.

"Hey Tae, we need to talk to you." Johnny says.

"Okay?"

"Hyung, y/n has been kinda weird lately she doesn't even wants to talk to us that much." Jaehyun sits down in the couch.

"We all talked and we wanted to tlwt you know that our friends and their friends have seen y/n hanging around with some guy." Taeil says. Taeyong looks shocked and like it's about to cry.

"We didn't believe it until Mark told us what he saw today." Taeil continues.

"What did you saw?" Taeyong takes a deep breath and close his eyes.

"I was walking around the Han River and i saw them sitting around there." Mark says upset. Taeyong close his hands frustrated.

"But look, we aren't saying she is cheating, maybe it's her collage partner or something." Jaehyun says trying to make his friend happy.

"Yes, and when i saw them they weren't holding hands and not even were so close to each other."

"Bro, she loves you and instead of thinking about breaking up ask her if there is something else making her distracted." Yuta pats his friends back. 

Taeyong grabs his jacket and makes his way to y/n's apartment, he calls 3 times and she doesn't picks up which makes him worried since he is thinking about all the things that member said.

Y/n's POV

you are in the living room watching some tv when you hear Taeyong open the door.

"Y/n we need to talk." He looks like he was crying and you wonder what happened to him.

"Yes, what happened babe?." 

"Y/n, you don't love me anymore? Are you cheating on me?" He ask straight up.

"No, Taeyong, what the hell? How could i ever cheat on you. You are the person i love the most." You say slightly frustrated.

"Some people are talking about you hanging out with another guy and even Mark saw you with him the other day, and the fact that you have been so quiet and don't even talk to me that much anymore, so i think I'm convinced it may be truth." He sits down and takes a deep breath trying not to look at you. Your heart breaks at seeing him like this, you know the truth and if you tell him he is gonna still feel upset.

"Taeyong listen to me, this guy is a buddhist, a met him the other day when i walked around the temple, he explained me that it helps you relax and control your emotions, i told him that i was going through a tought time and he decide to help me. He teach me how to meditate, breathing exercises and we do yoga almost every afternoon. It has helped me a lot with my stress. And that's it, he is just a friend, there is not any other relationship between us and if you want to talk to him or something I'm sire you would be more convinced." You say while holding his hands.

"And why didn't you told me about this?" He looks at you sad.

"I love you more than anything else in the world, you known i can help you and that you can talk to me about anything." He looks at you.

"Tae i know, but I'm always the strong one that is comforting you, making you feel okay and helping you. I know you have been through a lot lately and i didn't wanted to bother you with my problems while you have your owns. I'm sorry." You look at the the floor disappointed at yourself.

he grabs your lower back and pulls you into a kiss. You feel safe and peaceful again in between his arms and lips. He kisses you softly making your feel better than before and taking all your worries away. 

"You can always trust me, okay?" Taeyong kisses your forehead.

"From now on, let's promise to trust each other anytime, and talk about every single thing that is bothering us. We are stronger together."

"I love you." You hug him.

"I love you too." He leaves another kiss on your forehead.