#or really any character with wings tbh
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Going through my personal Greatest Hits of Winged Characters, this time it's @weekly-welsknight's Wels design! Or! One of them anyway! There's a new mod on the blog, so now there's two Welsknights!
Go give the blog some love their art [both mods!] is amazing.
#spazzcat doodles#welsknight#weekly-welsknight#sleeby#i got done working on a couple intensive art projects for the night and was like#hey you know what would be nice? finishing something#so here we are#i hope you guys like it!#also if anyone has any fun fan designs for the hermits#or really any character with wings tbh#send them my way#i sometimes [more often recently] get bored and do this kinda thing#you may someday find yourself with gift art
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More than just the Demon.
#ffxiv#digital art#zenos yae galvus#venat#endwalker spoilers#will forever be fascinated with this man#look guys look- the literal embodiment of wol's wings of hope LOL (and me going hehe about that and footfalls)#the part of me that adores digging into the nuance of character writing (intentional or otherwise) is just latched onto zenos#and venat-- they cant just give us two characters who get really important 1v1 duels#and ask really important questions#and love the MC and are willing to risk themselves so unconditionally#and have them not live rent free in my brain#--and maybe this tiptoes into the realm of crack theory so beware there will be a lot past here--#but I cant help but think zenos is akin to an oracle or warrior of light but was tempered/corrupted by zodiark#or some strange happenstance of varis (who shares visual traits to golbez before 6.0 ever came out and the dark mana burst)#and carosa (who it seems zenos got his looks from- and he already looks like he has ties to venat and argos like minfillia does)#was he a result of the eternal chess match between the two parties' machinations? or just some strange twist of fate?#another day of him being âemet's successful experimentâ (again- intentional or no) making me thonk#theres something so strange about the final days dreams and how dark aspected he is- that his void abilities are more tied to him tbh#yet his mannerisms beyond just what he's been through almost reminds me of light corruption and the uncanny calmness#we see in most beings associated with the light in any significant way and like second phase eden shiva#he almost has all the marks of someone who shouldve already had the echo or blessing of light but for one reason or another#was unable to hear hydaelyns call#of course it doesnt help i mentally associate him with connections to zero and how she was corrupted before she was even born#and durante- who states uncanny ability and connection with light and darkness and yet favors dark magic more#i simply live with the idea that zenos' soul was an eternally faithful companion to wol's and#this time the cardinal sin of separating the pair finally happened to rather dire consequences lmao
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MURDER HORNETS (MD x WoF AU concept)
woe. dragon-drones be upon ye. i caved into the autism and decided to mix my two hyperfixations together. this is just a vague story concept + some character descriptions. if you wanna do anything with it, go right ahead!! i probably won't do much teehee
The lust for power can easily destroy someone. Upon the discovery of another continent, the HiveWing Queen has decided that she wants, no, needs full control over the Distant Kingdoms just as she has control over Pantala. Such a task is easier said than done. The Queen has taken multiple squadrons of the most capable, powerful HiveWings, and under near constant brainwashing via the Breath of Evil, sent them to the Distant Kingdoms in trios. The Queen is not above resorting to genocide to get what she wants.
CHARACTER DESCRIPTIONS
Undying (Uzi) Born shortly before the construction of The Barrier, Undying is a NightWing/RainWing hybrid who thinks that everyone who chooses to stay in The Barrier is a coward. She wants to rise up against the ones keeping them in, and she has a plan to do exactly that. She would execute said plan if it wasn't for her father and his precautions.
Kaffir (Khan) A RainWing who likes to take the safest way out. After the death of his wife due to the Murder Hornets, Kaffir became the self-appointed director of The Barrier Project, a safe haven set to keep wandering dragons protected from the wrath of the Murder Hornets. He's not too keen on his daughter's views of rebellion. Nightcrawler (N) Once a servant for a HiveWing royal, Nightcrawler was appointed to the Queen's squadrons upon her learning that he possessed more abilities than the average HiveWing. He was admittedly hesitant to embark, but with pressure from his appointed squadron, he agreed. It's not like he had a say in the matter. Vespa (V) The second member of the Queen's squadron, Vespa was in a similar situation to Nightcrawler. However, instead of being reluctant like him, Vespa fully embraced her role as one who asks no questions and does whatever she's told with due diligence. It appears she's gone a bit mad, but that seems to be a benefit for the Queen's goal. Junix (J) Junix declared herself to be the leader of her squadron upon arriving to the Distant Kingdoms. She has no issues with harming her own teammates if it means she pushes forward with her directive. She will do anything to please the Queen, even if it means paralyzing her "companions" due to them becoming inefficient. Lithic (Lizzy) A pompous SandWing who cares a little too much about social status in The Barrier. She's obsessed with all things shiny or anything that puts her in the spotlight. She's almost never seen without Dawn and looks down on those who she considers "outcasts". Dawn (Doll) An IceWing/SkyWing hybrid with a strong IceWing accent and is almost always seen with an eerily blank expression. She hardly says a thing, yet somehow is considered Lithic's best friend. There's something behind her eyes that feels wrong.
#lennyrambles#murder drones#wings of fire#au concept#i'll probably add more character descriptions later#i have at least 3 more planned but they need work#this was really fun to write tbh#if yall have any input/feedback for this silly little thing i would love to hear them!!#murder hornets au
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blood and glitter â a sienna shaw x fem!reader oneshot
pairing(s): sienna shaw x fem!reader
summary: sienna shaw is an enigma with wings and a sword, destined. oh, sheâs also your friend who you may or may not be a little in love withâŠ
tags ~> fem!reader, fluff, smut, romance, friends to lovers, explicit sexual content, explicit language, no mentions of art the clown/any deaths, not really canon tbh, semi-public sex, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, praise kink, d/s undertones, gay panic, awkward romance
warnings!: nsfw, pretty graphic smut, explicit language
word count: 11.3k+
a/n: this is my first ever time posting any writing of mine on here so i hope you all enjoy, iâm also going to be posting this to ao3 if you guys ever read stuff on there :) iâm currently experiencing terrifier 3 brain rot especially because of sienna so i need to write this to get it out of my system cus DAMN.
i've tried to make the reader's character not super specfiic as to be as inclusive as possible - the only things described physically is that the reader has female anatomy
The steps that led up towards Siennaâs bedroom looked a little menacing as you stood at their bottom. It felt like you were about to enter a whole other private world you previously had never had access to. The situation was strange, not strange in nature, but because of the fact that although you and the other girl had been friends for months, you still had yet to step foot inside her bedroom.
You had been to her house before, especially when Allie and Brooke wanted to hang out too but had never been in her bedroom. The upstairs of her house was uncharted territory.
But it was normal right? It was completely normal, you were just a friend visiting another friendâs house, about to enter their bedroom so the two of you could get ready for a Halloween party. Every teen movie had this exact moment of calm where the characters could have dialogue and bond a little before moving onto the last big final act.
Sienna wasnât just your friend though, to you she was something more. You didnât want to just be her friend.
You had known she was special ever since she had waved you over one near summer afternoon to her lunch table and had complimented you on the iron-on patches that were littered across your jacket. The two young women sitting with her had looked a little confused when she started rambling on about Daft Punk and French Police (the band, not the law enforcement), but you had understood.
Like a puzzle, you two had fit perfectly together, two pieces clicking into place.
At first the fluttery feeling that bombarded your stomach at the thought of her was mistaken as relief. Platonic affection, and slightly pathetic gratitude that finally you didnât have to sit alone at lunch. That you would now have some people you actually knew.
But once the four of you had begun to hang out, even though you and Allie got close fast, and Brooke at least tolerated your presence, your ever-growing bond with Sienna was different.
That bond, the thing you had labelled as different, shouldâve made it easy for you to climb the stairs and waltz into the bedroom like it was yours. Instead, it had your feet glued to the floor. Barbara, Siennaâs mother and the one who had let you in, finally noticed your hesitation.
The woman didnât seem to find it strange, simply chuckling and gesturing for you to go up. âShe is expecting you honey, donât worry.â
Simply giving her a smile to try and seem relaxed only aided in making you look more nauseous. And to save yourself further embarrassment in the company of your new friendâs mom, you went upstairs. A few of the room doors were opened, but instantly looking within the second one you knew it was Siennaâs.
The room faintly glowed with dim lamp light, and the walls were covered in posters and pieces of art that were sure to have been done by the brunette herself. Every time you had the pleasure of being shown something she had created it always managed to take your breath away. You yourself werenât exactly terrible when it came to a pencil and pad, but your talent laid more in academics than anything truly creative.
Sienna had actually offered to teach you how to draw one evening after you had caught a glimpse of her notepad; design sketches for costumes and makeup looks covering the pages. The temptation of spending more time with her outside of classes and lunch break had won you over. So far, with her help, you now knew how to draw something reminiscent of a detailed cat. Nothing Picasso-like, but it was a start.
One of the things on her wall that caught your eye was a neon white LED light in the shape of a skull. It showcased there was something a little morbid about the beauty of Siennaâs aesthetic too. Both of you had bonded over your love for all things morbid and you regularly had horror movie nights â sometimes with Allie and Brooke. Most of the time it was just the two of you though, the way you preferred it.
âHeyâ the young woman had noticed you standing in the doorway and got off the bed to greet you.
Holy. Shit.
She had messaged you pictures of the costume she had created throughout the months, showing you the tiresome but fulfilling process of how it came to be. But none of them had been of her actually wearing it. You subtly tried to grab onto the doorframe, so you didnât fall over flat on your face.
The Valkyrie armour your friend had adorned was a shiny bronze, and the intricate details of everything needed a few looks to really sink in. It wasnât only the outfit itself that was making your heart palpitate; half of her hair was down, and the other half was sorted neatly into pretty braids.
The realisation she had actually made all this herself added another extra reason to your speechlessness â the main fact being though that she looked like something out of a fantasy nerdâs wet dream. But in a good way, definitely in a good way.
âWowâŠâ was all you could say, making her laugh and spin around so you could see the back of her costume. The two majestic wings sprouting out of her back seemed ironic then as you were almost sure she was an angel.
âWhatâd you think?â Sienna asked, turning back around so she could gauge your reaction. Not that there was much to analyse there though, you were still silent â but thankfully had managed to close your mouth. Running a hand through your hair you tried to find the words to express how ethereal she looked.
âItâs great, really great.â Way to go, loser.
Her face dropped just a little, did she think you were being insincere because your response was so short? Quite the opposite. You quickly scrambled to try and rectify your statement.
âNo, like I really mean it. I-I mean the shoulder piece, the wings, itâs so detailed and pretty. And your makeup, I mean wow you look soâŠsparkly!â Although what you had just said embarrassed you even further, Siennaâs disappointed expression had been replaced with fondness and amusement.
âYeah?â the cosplayer murmured, turning back to the mirror, and admiring herself for another moment. The truth was, she was extremely proud of how it had turned out, and your approval had meant a lot to her especially considering her motherâs likely disapproval when she saw what sheâd be going out in. The weight of your opinion to Sienna was more than what was standard or acceptable for the average friend, even if she couldn't admit that.
You nodded. âYeah.â
âI canât wait to see your costumeâ she smiled, looking down at the backpack you had put down on the floor. The reality was setting in that youâd have to show her your costume.
Seriously, compared to Siennaâs costume, everyone elseâs would be very much underwhelming â it was mean of her to assume everyone just was as talented as she was. The chic vampire look you were about to try to achieve would definitely not live up to standard, but you couldnât spend the entire evening in her bedroom doorway.
âCan I get changed in your bathroom?â
Siennaâs head tilted a little in confusion at that, but realised you werenât comfortable with getting undressed in front of her, so she smiled and said: âSure, itâs the first door when you turn right, youâll easily find it.â
Running a hand down your crisp shirt to smooth it out, you glanced at yourself in the mirror - so far you just looked a bit like a fancy Victorian aristocrat. It was agreed that the girl in the other room would help you do the special effects (and general) makeup for your costume, and you hoped that it would help elevate it to be a little more Halloweenesque.
No doubt your other two friends were doing the exact same thing right now, Allie putting a lot more effort into her costume than Brooke though.
âYou ready for your makeover, Dracula?!â Sienna shouted from the other room, making you almost drop the comb you had brought with you into the sink (slicking back your hair was a harder affair than first thought).
You cleared your throat before replying. âUmm yeah hang on!â Grabbing what sheâd need to transform you into a citizen of Transylvania, you walked back into the bedroom.
Standing in front of the bed, you gave her an awkward half sort of twirl. It made your cape swish around at least.
Sienna bit her lip as she tried not to laugh. âWow, umm, itâs actually quite cool. I think the makeup will give it that extra oomph though, canât have a vampire without fangs.â Both of you looked towards the package that contained the fake fangs. Also splayed out on the bed was a collection of makeup: eyeshadow palettes, mascaras, lip gloss, concealer â all Siennaâs, and some fake blood, glittery fake blood. You supposed that was where the chic part of your costume came in.
The armoured girl looked at you for a moment for patting a space on the bed, silently asking you to sit down so she could get started. You complied a little too quickly, feeling almost lightheaded by being in her presence and by being so close.
âFangs or makeup first?â
You pointed to the fake, glue-on fangs a little apprehensively, hoping the glue wouldnât fuck up your teeth.
Sienna worked quickly and efficiently, like how she did most things â you knew this because you spent admittedly quite a lot of time looking at her when she was in the middle of doing something. Brooke sometimes teased you for it, but you were pretty confident you had the others convinced your admiration for the artist was purely platonic.
âOpen your mouthâ the brunette instructed, you shifted on the bed a little and did as you were told. Her fingers tingled as she touched your face, tilting your head up so she could press on one of the fake fangs to your tooth, holding it until the glue stuck.
Whilst it wasnât exactly what you had hoped for when you sometimes wished for her fingers in your mouth, it felt adrenaline-inducing all the same. You couldnât take your eyes away from her face, even though you knew it was rude to stare, and even though you were almost certain she was aware of your staring. Siennaâs outfit and makeup was breathtaking, a homage to just how talented she was â how beautiful she was too.
The idea of her as some sort of mystic Valkyrie warrior fit, it fit perfectly and made you want to faint every time you looked at her.
âOkay, second and last one, just stay still for a moment.â The brunette applied a tiny dab of prosthetics glue to the end of the other vampire tooth before gesturing for you to open your mouth again. You did so and glanced away as she held the fake fang in place, trying not to acknowledge how flush your face was getting.
After they had been applied, and your teeth really did resemble ones of a bloodsucking creature of the night, Sienna moved on to doing your makeup.
The close proximity she had to your face was beginning to make you feel a little sweaty. The first step she took for your transformation was making you look a little more pale than usual, sickly. Not wanting to make it too obvious or campy by using face paint she instead used foundation, concealer and powder a few shades lighter than your natural skin colour.
Next came the eye makeup, Sienna dabbed very small amounts of what seemed to be eye shadow under your eyes to give the appearance of dark circles. Not that she needed much help with that, you were a bit of an insomniac.
The eyeshadow she used around your eyes was black and glittery, drawing attention to your irises. It felt weird trying not to look at the other girl when she was staring so intensely into (or rather, around) your eyes. The same thing happened when she was doing your lip gloss to quote unquote âdraw attention to your mouthâ and subsequently, your fangs â you thought she might have been staring a little too hard.
And finally, the fake blood. Sienna had dipped the end of a very fine makeup brush in the fake crimson, tickling you slightly as she dabbed your lower lip with it. For a little extra effect, she let some run down your chin, staring a little intensely as some of it ran down your neck a little as your head was tilted back.
Trying not to take the moment as more than it was, and trying to calm your racing heart, you got off the bed to admire your friendâs handiwork in the mirror.
âHoly shitâ you laughed, looking at your face from different angles. You could pass as Dracula himself if it wasnât for the glitter in the fake blood Sienna had running down your chin. Unless he was a very campy Dracula.
âSparkly Draculaâ she commented, looking a little distracted as she assumably admired your costume. You turned around back to her and shot her a genuine smile.
âI love it, thank you.â
The girl shrugged a little and tried to brush the compliment off, but you could tell she was secretly happy to be praised. Sienna always acted humble and dismissive whenever someone complimented her artistry, but you could tell it made her feel good. She, in your opinion, should have been used to compliments by then as everything she touched turned to metaphorical gold, Halloween costumes were no different.
âRight come onâ she followed you in getting off the bed and grabbing her phone as the two of you were already running late. âIf weâre not there soon weâll miss all the fun.â A part of you wanted to ask what was fun about a bunch of gross sweaty teenagers getting drunk and rubbing up on each other on a dance floor.
Youâd much rather just spend the evening in her bedroom watching cheesy 80âs slasher movies and eating popcorn. But you could tell Sienna was looking forward to it, seeing it as an opportunity to blow off some steam, and held your tongue. The things you did for love.
The floor under your feet vibrated with music as the two of you tried to weave your way through the crowd to where Allie and Brooke were. You, thankfully, saw no sign of Brookeâs boyfriend (small mercies). Finally reaching the two of them, you all got a chance to admire each otherâs outfits.
Neither of their costumes were as well-crafted (or as hot) as Siennaâs but both looked cute, passable for Halloween. Allie thought the glitter in your fake blood added a nice touch.
âWhat are you? A gay Dracula?â Brooke snorted, taking another swig of whatever was in her cup. Without knowing any better, and going by her facial expression, it looked like she was drinking straight up gasoline. At her best friendâs remark Sienna tried not to roll her eyes.
âLeave them alone, I think they look great.â
Brooke gave her a look.
âWhat?â
The blonde smirked, simply shaking her head as she looked around. âNothing.â The slightly awkward moment was broken when the song changed to a favourite and Allie pulled all of you to the middle of the dance floor. A thing you had yet to mention to them was that you didnât dance, not well at least. The idea of embarrassing yourself in front of Sienna made you want to dig a hole in the ground to crawl into.
âCome onâ Sienna goaded you. Suddenly it seemed like the entire room faded away as she grabbed you by the hips and made you dance with her. Allie and Brooke and everyone else suddenly didnât exist. The strobe lights on the ceiling made the glitter paint on Siennaâs face sparkle, her eyes equally so.
It felt like looking into a galaxy. Your heart was about to jump into your throat.
Perhaps she thought you looked silly almost frozen in the middle of the dancefloor as she started to laugh, head tilted back like an amused goddess. After a little bit of encouragement, and after the fear of looking like a socially awkward freak in front of the other girl took over, you started to dance with her. Properly this time.
A part of you didnât want to just let go, you were hyperaware of the people all around the two of you. That was the way it had always been for you, so focused on if others were looking at you, and if they were, what they were thinking.
Surely Siennaâs carefreeness had started to rub off on you, as right then you were so tired of caring what others thought, so tired of feeling a knot in your stomach.
Everyone except Brooke and Allie seemed too drunk to even notice anything. Why did it even matter?
The two friends were near but kept their distance, almost as if they wanted to watch you and Sienna rather than dance themselves.
âDo you want a drink?â Siennaâs voice cut over the loud bass. Maybe liquid courage really was a thing. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment in time. The brunette simply grabbed your hand, goading you to spin her around a final time before she whisked off towards one of the refreshment tables; a pair of angel wings the only thing you could spot of her in the crowded room.
A total of about five seconds passed before someone had grabbed your arm, turning you around so you could face them. It was Allie, who was sporting a grin like the Cheshire cat. Immediately you felt defensive, the look Brooke was giving you too increasing it tenfold.
âWhat?â you frowned, slightly backing away as you wrestled out of Allieâs grip. She didnât say anything herself, instead looking at Brooke to voice their joint thoughts â that was how it usually went.
The blonde took a sip of her vodka and tonic through a straw as she took a quick glance to where you assumed Sienna was. âShe looks hot in her costume, doesnât she?â
Arms crossed tightly over your chest, a picture of insecurity, you shot back: âSorry?â It wasnât even jealousy that caused the reaction, you were just overwhelmed with everything that was happening.
âSienna looks hot in her costume, doesnât she?â Brooke repeated, voice dripping with patronisation. Sometimes it felt like she thought your brain processed things twice as slow as the average persons. Currently it was as you were being to suspect what they were implying.
Trying to control your tone and keep your reaction impartial, you shrugged. âYeah, I guess so, itâs pretty cool.â
Allie giggled. âYou guess so? Please, me and Brooke have been watching you stare at her all night.â
Shit, okay, the suspicion had been right. Both of them had caught onto exactly how you felt. Fear was like a punch to your stomach, making you feel a little nauseous. âPlease donât say anythingâ was the only sentence you could come up with.
The two girlsâ eyes widened, realising they had finally just got conformation on the thing they were only carelessly teasing you about. In reality, they had no more than an inkling towards how you really felt about Sienna. Brooke then laughed. âShit, dude, I only like kinda suspected it but wow we were right!â
The seconds passed by like an eternity as the tension in the atmosphere couldâve been cut with a knife.
You could only breathe a sigh of relief when Allie reassured you: âI wonât say anything to her I promise,â then sending a very stern look to the definitely tipsy blonde next to her, âneither of us will.â She punctuated the word âneitherâ particularly harsh â both of you knew gossip was as crucial to Brookeâs survival as oxygen was.
As if reading your minds, the young woman in question put her hands up almost in surrender. âYes, yes fine, I wonât tell her anything.â Her expression shifted. âHowever, Iâm not going to lie and say if you continue the way you are that sheâs never gonna put the pieces together. That is if she hasnât already.â Brooke slightly nudged you on the arm, trying to drive her point home as gently as possible.
Were you really that obvious?
Before you could ask her to elaborate on how your very intense crush on Miles Countyâs resident Valkyrie warrior was obvious or defend your honour (and the semblance of pride you had left), Sienna glided up next to you in a flurry of bronze armour and gorgeous hair.
Pressing a red solo cup into your hand, she raised an eyebrow as she looked around at the three of you standing static in amongst the moving crowd.
âWhatâs up guys?â
Allie, Brooke, and you all equally detested the fact sometimes that your friend was so able to read the room. Siennaâs emotional intelligence was normally something that set off butterflies in your stomach, but currently it made you want to throw your drink all over someone, Brooke seemed the most appealing option currently and make a dash to the nearest exit.
âWeâre just talking about who weâve seen here tonight so farâ the lie came quickly and smoothly from Allieâs lips, leading you to internally note that she might have been less innocent than you gave her credit for.
You and Brooke nodded enthusiastically, as if it didnât make the whole scene look even more weird. The two of you were like water and oil, when you got along something was usually up. Simply brushing it off as you guys not wanting to divulge something to her, Sienna took a swig of her drink and changed the subject.
âWhereâs the boyfriend?â she asked Brooke. The grimace on her face indicated she disliked the guy as much as you and Allie did.
The blonde shrugged with a roll of her eyes. âProbably dancing up on some bimbo somewhere, I donât know, I donât keep him on a leash.â
Allie snorted. âYou should.â
You and Sienna tried not to laugh, shooting each other a look as Brooke visibly got pissed off. âYeah whatever.â Without even sending a glance to the rest of you she walked away â clearly the comment had struck a nerve, and she wanted to find Jeff to make sure he wasnât actually dancing with someone else.
Allie watched her go with an expression a mix of guilt and irritation. âShe can never just be pleasant.â
âDuh, itâs Brookeâ Sienna laughed, once again shooting you a look. This time you didnât know what it meant, it seemed she was sneaking glances at you just for the sake of it now. âMaybe you should go check on her? She was drinking quite a lot.â There, that was it, what made Sienna special. Despite your friend being a bitch to you all moments ago, the brunette still had her best interests in mind.
Allie bit her lip and you could tell internally she was battling between being petty and putting that aside to be a good friend. The other side won out, as it usually did where you guys were concerned. âFine, Iâll go find her.â
At first glance it seemed that Brooke couldnât have gone far, but Allieâs small form soon was swallowed by the ever-growing crowd.
âYou, okay?â Sienna asked you as you looked around the room. She knew you werenât the biggest fan of large crowds, or people in general rather.
âYeah, Iâm good.â Taking a deep breath you finally took initiative for once and extended your free hand. Your friend didnât need to ask what you wanted, and grabbed it, leading you both to a less crowded area of the dance floor.
One drink turned into two and soon the both of you were tipsy, constantly bumping into each other as you danced. Sienna didnât seem to care, she looked as if she was having a really good time. That realisation sent warmth straight down to your toes, the fact she found pleasure in your company was a miracle in your opinion.
The time you spent dancing together felt like hours as you grew increasingly tired, but you were slowly starting to sober up. Sienna seemed to be sobering up too. Soon she was grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the crowd, and down a deserted hallway that was much further into the building than everyone else was. She double checked no one was around before levelling you with a serious expression.
âI kinda need some advice.â
Instantly you were on high alert, worried that something had gone wrong throughout the evening. So instead of exposing yourself as the anxious freak you were, you tried to act irritated.
âWhat about? Arenât we supposed to be having fun right now?â You werenât completely lying; the middle of a party wasnât exactly the best opportunity to pull someone aside for what seemed like a serious talk. But Sienna looked as if something was troubling her, and you didnât want to push her away.
âNo, no we are, I am I promise. But I need to ask you something.â
Had you done something wrong? A million scenarios ran through your mind, most of them ending with you heartbroken and without her in your life anymore. Maybe if you acted more annoyed, she wouldnât be able to see how scared you were about what she was going to ask.
âUgh fine but make it quick I wanna get another drink.â The last thing you wanted in the world was more alcohol, but you needed to make it seem believable.
You had rarely seen Sienna so nervous. âUmm letâs say hypothetically someone is here, and I really like them.â It felt like a fist had taken a hold of your heart and was squeezing so hard you couldnât breathe, but she continued talking. âAnd Iâm pretty sure they like me too, and I really want to kiss them, but I donât know how to go about it.â
Oh, you shouldâve known. How could someone like her ever feel anything for someone like you?
âWhat?â
Immediately she looked guilty, perhaps she had realised from the surely heartbroken look on your face that your affections regarding her were more than just friendly. âLook itâs fine we donât have to talk about it, we can just go get more drinks- â, she tried to backtrack, but you knew if she didnât explain fully, youâd be (even more of) a mess for the entire night.
âNo, its fine Iâm justâŠsurprised thatâs all⊠who is it? if I can ask?â
This was going to hurt. Was it Daniel, the artsy kid who she always joked around with in history class? Or maybe Davonte, one of the guys you knew she had grown up with. Truthfully the options were endless, Sienna was the type of person that you just couldnât dislike. It didnât help that she was stunningly beautiful on top of that.
What she said next wasnât particularly weird but wasnât what you had expected. Usually, friends would be all about telling each other who they liked, she seemed hesitant to divulge that particular piece of information. Didnât she trust you? âOh um, would your advice be different depending on the person?â
ââŠProbably.â You knew the only true advice you wanted to give to her on the topic of kissing someone else was: please donât. But the bitter truth overcame you that you two werenât together. She saw you as a friend and nothing more. You had no right to control Siennaâs life that way.
âOkay what about just in general?â
Shrugging, you tried to give the most impartial advice you could muster up. Inside though all you wanted to do was drive home and go to bed â you could wallow in self-pity tomorrow. You just hoped she wouldnât kiss this guy in front of you.
âWell, um, I donât know⊠I guess just ask them if theyâre drunk, because consent is important, and if theyâre not and they seem into you just go for it you know.â
âRight. Okay.â Sienna took a deep breath and bit her lip. The silence between you began to grow strange, why was she acting so weird? You were about to question why she was acting so off before she blurted out: âAre you drunk?â
Confusion washed over you, you assumed both of you were basically sober now â neither of you were lightweights. And also, you practically had to be as you were supposed to be the one driving you and her home. âNo, not really, Iâve kinda sobered up basically. Why are- â
Suddenly her lips were on yours.
Oh.
Your teeth nearly bumped together with the force of it as she crowded you against the wall, before gaining composure and pulling away. The air felt warmer somehow as you both caught your breath. Then you moved forward, and that time were the one to initiate the kiss, a lot more softly. Her lips were tacky from her lipstick and your lip gloss, but you didnât care.
She tasted like mint, the type of mint flavour youâd expect from chewing gum. It was odd that you could probably guess now that she used spearmint toothpaste.
When you both pulled away again, she finally spoke. âYouâre such a dumbass for thinking I wanted to kiss someone else you know, my feelings for you werenât exactly a secret.â
Her feelings for you?
âOh.â
Sienna bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. âDid you not know?â You shook your head. âBrooke and Allie have been teasing me about it nonstop for weeks I swear.â They knew, and suddenly you felt quite stupid for believing they were as clueless as they acted.
âAssholesâ you could only laugh. You were once again cut off when Sienna grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into for a deeper kiss. Clearly, she had been holding this back for a while and you would have been lying if you said it didnât make you feel weak in the knees to have her be so rough with you.
The way you were being pressed against the wall would most likely leave you with a bruised spine later, but you couldnât feel anything in that moment except for Siennaâs warm hands moving under your shirt to feel your bare skin, and her tongue eager and skilled against your own.
The sensation was almost dizzying as she moved away from your lips to kiss down your jaw, leaving a trail of lipstick and fake blood across your face. You honestly didnât care if anyone could see the both of you, and if you looked ridiculous covered in the proof of your current make out session.
For once in your life, you didnât care about playing it safe, doing what seemed like the most socially acceptable option â all you were focused on was how it felt.
Siennaâs breath was warm against you as she took a moment to try and compose herself, before failing to and losing it completely as she began to bite and suck bruises down your neck.
Maybe she shouldâve gone as the vampire instead as you were sure those marks would stay for a good couple of weeks. But it made you hot to think that days from now you could have a physical reminder of what was currently happening. Proof that this wasnât just another particularly adventurous wet dream involving your newest yet closest friend.
Sienna had always seemed so gentle in every way, but now she was gripping your hips so hard it started to hurt. Shit, she really did have a different side to her. It made another bolt of heat go straight between your legs. Your underwear was already soaked and none of this was helping.
Pulling away she said: âCan I touch you?â and the question made your brain short circuit for a moment. You had no idea she had even wanted to kiss you until moments ago, and now she was basically saying she wanted you that way. If in any other situation or with any other person, you probably wouldâve told your friend that this was moving way too fast â but oddly with Sienna, it just felt right.
Insecurities werenât a foreign concept to you, quite the opposite actually, but the area was pretty dark and you trusted her enough to go further.
So, despite your heart basically beating out of your chest, you nodded. âYeah.â
âYou sure?â her eyebrow was raised, clearly not pegging you as the type who was down for doing anything affectionate let alone intimate basically in public. There wasnât anyone around, and probably wouldnât be for a good while, but there was always the risk of getting caught. You suspected Sienna found it exciting, whereas you felt a little paranoid but were going along with it anyway because she was clearly really into it.
And if, God forbid, someone was going to walk past or spot you guys, they wouldnât see much. You were firmly set on keeping most, if not all, of your clothes on, even if you were in Siennaâs bedroom you would probably consider that option too.
âSienna please, just, yeah.â
Clearly that was good enough of an answer for her as her hands were sliding up slowly under your shirt. âWhat about here?â she asked, meaning your chest.
Consent was the most important thing, and you found it sweet she was so adamant on making sure you were comfortable, but if she didnât touch you there or even lower soon you thought youâd genuinely explode from pent up tension.
Nodding, you pushed yourself forward and let out a sigh as her hands finally met your breasts. Surprisingly, her hands werenât cold, and it was satisfying to feel her one of the places you needed it most. You were still wearing a bra, but it didnât even matter if you had kept your shirt on or not as Sienna was reaching around behind you to unhook your bra with one hand anyway.
It was a little awkward to get it fully off and out of your shirt but once you had Sienna was all too ready to feel your bare tits. You tried not to gasp as she squeezed them softly, before pinching one of your nipples and laughing when you squirmed (very much not out of discomfort, but something else).
âAre you sensitive?â she teased, laughing as you tried to send her your best imitation of an annoyed look. âCan I use my mouth?â
âPlease justâŠâ the request was too embarrassing to ask out loud, but you could see that Sienna liked watching you squirm. She wasnât going to budge until you admitted what you wanted. âYes, please.â You were repeating yourself now, too much of a mess to really consider how to word anything.
She unbuttoned your shirt just enough to get access to your breasts and you immediately shivered as the rush of cold air that hit your chest. âYouâre going to be the death of me I swearâ she laughed as she leant down as low as possible to take one of your nipples into her mouth.
âShitâ the curse was out of your mouth before you could stop it. Siennaâs mouth was so warm and felt so good already. When it came down to the actual business of physically getting you off, you knew you wouldnât last long. Even her just playing with your tits had you feeling like putty in her hands.
The girl let out a moan as she stopped sucking to kiss all over your chest and neck, nipping you here and there with her teeth to make you shudder. Just when you thought you couldnât take it any longer, she stood up fully and asked if she could unzip your suit slacks.
âFuck, okayâ you tried to catch your breath, air coming out in puffs as you tried to steady yourself.
The effort proved futile as she moved forward and kissed you with an open mouth yet again, pulling at your bottom lip periodically with her teeth to drive you just that little more insane. Damn, she really did like biting huh? You made a note of that for future purposes, although the âfutureâ in question was most likely less than hours away.
Siennaâs hands moved quickly at your belt, unlooping it before pulling it off and throwing it carelessly on the ground. Next was the zip of your slacks and the top button, once opened she slid her hand swiftly down into the front of your suit trousers. No time to waste, you supposed, someone could walk past any minute.
Besides, her urgency was incredibly sexy. It was like she needed you as much as she wanted you. At first, she began to touch you over your underwear, marvelling at how wet you were.
âShit, youâre so wet, all of this is because of me?â
âYeahâ your voice was shaky. The understatement of the century.
She groaned as if your words had physically done something to her, and you swallowed hard. âJesus I canât believe weâve waited until now to do this; I couldâve had you like this for me so long agoâ she sounded frustrated. You wanted to admit that you shared the same sentiment, that ever since you had first saw her you had wanted to kiss her until the both of you had passed out from lack of oxygen.
You were going to agree, say âme tooâ or even just kiss her again, but suddenly her fingers were putting pressure right on your clit. It felt just as good through your underwear due to the friction and just how worked up you already were.
She seemed to be observing your face as she added more pressure and then took it away again over and over, starting to rub little circles slowly.
âYou like that?â Sienna moaned, then she needily sighed as you pushed off the wall slightly to push your hips further towards her. âHang on babyâ she kissed you and moved her hand away, making you groan into the kiss a little annoyed she was such a tease.
The frustration didnât last long as this time she was moving her hand back into the front of your slacks, but also inside your panties this time too. Her face was now buried into your neck, kissing, and licking at the bruised skin there, so you could feel when she gasped as she was met with the feeling of your bare wet pussy against her fingers.
âHoly fuckâ Sienna sounded almost winded as she pulled her mouth away from your throat, like she was just as worked up from this teasing as you were. âCan I put them inside?â she asked.
âYes.â and suddenly her index finger was pushing inside you, eager and warm walls practically sucking her in. Your whole body felt electric, and you moaned as she added another digit alongside her index finger â her middle finger this time, stretching and filling you perfectly.
There was a theory that artists tended to be more dexterous with their fingers, and you were starting to believe this was true as the brunette easily found your g spot. Kissing you hard to muffle the sound of your moans, she pressed her fingers up against it again and again. Her thumb moved up to your clit and began to rub circles and in all honesty, you thought the noise you were making (even when muffled) would attract the attention of the rest of the party rooms away.
Siennaâs entire hand was soaked now, some of your arousal dripping down her wrist. The noises being produced were so obscene that youâd feel shameful if you werenât currently on cloud nine. You were so close, hands gripping onto the sides of her arms as you needed to hold onto something to stop yourself from shaking so much.
It was also a good thing she had you pressed so harshly against the wall as now your knees were Jello. She could tell from how your cunt was tightening around her fingers that you were close to cumming and, to her credit, thought she had teased you enough â so doubled down on her efforts.
The tension inside of you finally snapped and you came with a muffled half moan, half scream as you absolutely drenched her fingers (shit, you had no idea you could even cum that much). Sienna kept on kissing you, taking her thumb off your clit but still keeping her fingers moving inside of you as to not overstimulate you too much as you rode out your orgasm.
She broke the kiss, and you gasped for breath, both from lack of sufficient air and how overwhelmed you were with pleasure. The aftershocks made you clench a little around her fingers every few moments and she watched in fascination as your chest rose and fell, face so warm your flush could be seen in the dark.
Finally catching your breath and regaining (most of) your composure, you felt as Sienna finally pulled her fingers out from inside you, already making you feel a little empty.
She, instead of wiping her hand on your suit pants or her own leg, instructed you: âOpen your mouth.â It wasnât a question. There was no please. You knew you could refuse anytime you wanted.
Immediately doing as she said, your stomach fluttered at the dangerous edge to her voice. You were met with the taste of your own cum as you sucked her index and middle finger into your mouth eagerly, wanting to prove yourself. Prove yourself as what exactly, you didnât know. But you were beginning to learn that whatever pleased her, pleased you.
âGood girlâ Sienna praised without seemingly really thinking about it, and your hands clenched at her biceps, almost accidentally biting down on her fingers with how hard your body physically reacted at that with something. The dark-haired girl could judge from your reaction that you had definitely took the compliment well. âOh? You like when I call you that?â
She took her fingers out of your mouth and let out a breath of amusement as you couldnât meet her gaze. âI expect you to look at me when Iâm speaking to you.â Well shit. A hint of intimidation mixed in with your arousal as you let go of her arms and tried to meet her eyes with your own.
âSorryâ you murmured. You had no idea why you were even apologising, but something about Siennaâs words had unbalanced you. In a good way though.
After a moment she backed off of you, making sure you werenât going to collapse due to how weak your limbs felt now.
âCan you-â she paused for a moment to take a deep breath, âcan you get on your knees for me baby?â She was looking up at you with pupils so blown her eyes were practically black and you felt the sudden urge to have your mouth on her somewhere. Maybe her mouth; it was sparkly, no doubt from all the glittery fake blood that resided around yours. It made you want to giggle, until what she had just asked you registered.
Holy fuck. Was this really happening? Did she mean what you thought she meant?
âOf course you donât have to- â, the makeup artist was already backtracking, paranoid she had suggested something which made you uncomfortable. You shook your head a little too enthusiastically.
âNo, no, i-itâs fine⊠I want to.â You reassured, moving the two of you so that your positions were now flipped, you crowding her against the wall this time. It was strange though, as even though currently you were acting as the more âdominant oneâ, you were hanging off of her every word. Like she was the one who was meant to be calling the shots.
Siennaâs head tilted down as she watched you get on your knees in front of her. Her facial expression was one of pure surprise, with a hint of arousal. She looked as powerful in that moment as you believed her to be, a winged warrior whom your heart was in the hands of. But in that moment, she was also just your friend: courageous, and smart and funny.
You wanted to give her the world, but that was currently impossible, so you supposed this would have to do.
âCan I touch you?â the question was shaky as you looked up at her. It was weird to see her from this angle, so used to looking down at her slightly due to the height difference being more so in your favour.
There was no hesitation. âPlease.â
So, with trembling hands, you ran a palm up her thigh, marvelling how soft her skin was. Some people were a boob person, some were an ass person, you preferred thighs. And you wanted Siennaâs wrapped around your head as soon as physically possible.
The brunette obviously agreed that the anticipation had gotten too much, as she was then taking off the bottom part of her costume carefully as well as the undershorts she had worn under it. You had (very reluctantly) stopped Sienna when she had reached her underwear and was about to take those off too, wanting to do that yourself.
With her legs slightly spread you could see that her wetness had soaked through her panties. Trying to not bite your lip so hard it bled, you took them off and helped her step out of them carefully.
The sight you were met with had you internally scrabbling to remain composed. In between Siennaâs legs was a triangle of dark trimmed hair, and when she spread her thighs apart you were hit with the realisation of just how wet she was. The arousal was dripping down her inner thighs and making your mouth water.
You looked up at her for a signal to go ahead, and once you had received one you kissed your way up her thigh before grabbing her leg and resting her left foot on your left shoulder. Marvelling at her spread open you could feel from her body language that she was a little nervous. The feeling was mutual, so you tried to ease the tension a little bit.
âI canât believe youâre letting me do thisâ you giggled. Jesus, socially awkward much? Sienna Shaw had you between her legs with no panties on and you were giggling like a loser. The thought did nothing to dispel the fluttering feeling in your stomach, it was as if the weight of her foot on your shoulder was the only thing keeping you from floating off the ground.
The brunette let out a huff of laughter, leaning back until her head hit the wall, rather in disbelief herself. âI canât believe this is happening to begin with.â Your facial expression mustâve turned into something a little less light-hearted as she quickly rectified her statement. âNot that Iâm not loving this, you look really cute right now.â
Heat simultaneously rose up to your face and down between your legs at the compliment.
âSeriously, youâre being so good for meâ. One of her hands ran through your hair and then moved down to caress your face, you leaned into her touch.
Although technically this was just a hookup between 2 good friends at a Halloween party, the moment felt special. You had no idea why she had feelings for you of all people, but the way she was looking at you right then made you believe that she was genuinely telling the truth. That you were the one she wanted to be with, the one she wanted to do this with.
You leaned forward impossibly closer to her, face just mere inches away from what laid in between her legs. Looking up at her, you wanted to make sure it was okay before you finally got what you had wanted for what felt like forever.
âGo ahead babyâ.
The permission she gave to you was the final thing to shatter your composure entirely, you gripped the back of her thighs and finally tasted her. Moaning as you buried your face without any shame into her pussy, you heard as she gasped, most likely from the eagerness of which your tongue was exploring her cunt.
âJesus Christâ Sienna swore as you licked one long stripe from her entrance right up to her clit, repeating this until she was a trembling mess. Her façade was slowly cracking as you felt her get more desperate to cum, the dominant persona she had shown earlier melting away slightly. In all honesty you didnât care about the dynamic between the two of you right now, you just wanted her to cum all over your face.
The shorter girlâs blunt nails dug into your scalp as she grabbed your hair harder to grind against your face, deciding the pressure and pace you were going at (which was admittedly rather to tease than anything) wasnât enough.
The taste of her plus the fact she was practically fucking your face made you moan so loud you almost felt embarrassed. The idea of her using you like this was too much to handle, and shifting a little on your knees you discovered you were wet again already.
You were only almost embarrassed at your own noises because they were clearly sending vibrations straight up to the brunetteâs clit and making her let out a string of curses. Her arousal had drenched the bottom half of your face and was dripping down your chin, you wished this could last forever. You would gladly spend the rest of eternity doing this with her if it was possible.
âFuck that feels so good babyâ Sienna tried to say more, before the words trailed off into a groan. The only thing stopping you from moving a hand between your own legs was the fact that you were more worried about holding her up. Siennaâs legs were shaking with pleasure, and it was hitting some sweet egotistical spot in your chest.
Her breathing was getting faster and more ragged as she leant against the wall, clearly on the edge. It made you want to both slow down and speed up at the same time â you wanted to make this last as long as possible. For all you knew, tomorrow it would be like nothing had happened, like you two were just close girl friends. Like you didn't now know what sorts of sounds she made when sheâs being eaten out.
But Siennaâs hands were tightening in your hair, and you needed to know more than anything how she sounded like when she came. What her cum tasted like. The uncomfortable ache in your jaw was immediately forgotten as you doubled down your efforts. She tasted absolutely amazing and you knew youâd never forget doing this, could never forget doing this.
She sounded so pretty coming apart above you, panting and moaning as you abused her clit with your tongue.
As the both of you were already pent up, within a few more moments she was coming with a loud gasp, pressing herself against your face as close as physically possible as if she was scared you were going to move away. The reality was that you were more likely to just stay there and never leave. The noises she made were hopefully unheard by anyone else, but you, you were sure to hear them in many wet dreams to come.
Is this what heaven was like? Was she actually some sort of ethereal being? More wetness flooded your mouth, and you were thankful that your feelings for her were so obvious, as otherwise she might not have dragged you here under the guise of needing âfriendly advice.â
Soon the loud gasps had quietened into barely concealed whimpers, and you were holding yourself back from kissing your way up her inner thigh to do it all over again.
Sienna was trying to catch her breath coming down from an admittedly very intense orgasm, and her grip on your hair was a lot gentler as she stroked your face. âHoly shit.â
You seconded that sentiment, feeling almost dizzy with both satisfaction at making her cum and need for relief again yourself. The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable again, but the current position you were in made you hold off on relieving it so soon.
For a moment, it was quiet except for her quiet breathing and the much louder sound of your racing heart. The two of you could also hear the faint music from the party happening somewhere off in the distance.
âAre you good?â the brunette checked up on you. It made you want to laugh and cry at once â good? You had just acted out your biggest fantasy with someone who you were borderline in love with. Good didnât cover it.
âY-yeah.â
Sienna stroked your hair, silently glad that she hadnât pushed any boundaries with you. It made your heart swell to feel her being so gentle with you, showing she could be as sweet as she could be rough. The perfect balance. You managed to gather enough strength to get up off of your knees and on your feet again to kiss her.
The other girlâs arms wrapped around your neck as she pulled you close, the two of you needing a minute to take in what had just happened.
You realised both of you were still partially undressed and pulled away from the kiss to button your shirt back up and grab the discarded part of her costume as well as her underwear and undershorts. âYou should probably uh,â you gestured to her naked lower half, secretly appreciating the sight but more paranoid than anything that some stranger was going to come past and get an eyeful of her ass or more.
Sienna giggled a little at the expression of pure anxiety on your face, thinking that sometimes you were prone to worrying over nothing. There had been no one where the two of you were the entire night. âCalm down, Iâll put my clothes back onâ she teased you light-heartedly as she took her underwear and undershorts from you. âWanna help me put them back on?â.
With all the sex stuff you had forgotten she was almost as much of a dork as you were. Either that or a really big flirt. Probably both.
You ignored the fact you still were incredibly pent up and let her grab your shoulder for balance as she got dressed again. âCan we go back to your place?â you asked, handing her the Valkyrie skirt, and watching as she adjusted it around her waist.
âOh?â Sienna shot you a look, âof courseâ. She gave you a peck before taking a hold of the knot of your cape and tightening it, somewhere down the line it had loosened and was close to falling off. âAre you okay to drive?â. Both of you had been sober for quite awhile now, and you trusted that you were fine to get you both to her house safely. You told her you were going to be okay behind a wheel.
The thought of being with her in the privacy of her own bedroom sounded like something to look forward to right now.
As soon as Siennaâs bedroom door slammed behind the two of you, she was pushing you towards the bed, neither of you even bothering to turn on the lights so the room wouldnât be encased in darkness. Jonathan was out with his friends at some party, the same with Siennaâs mom, meaning the two of you very thankfully had the house to yourselves.
You both collapsed onto her bed in a tangle of limbs, your lips working their way down her neck. Taking charge seemed far away for a brief moment to her as you climbed on top of the Valkyrie warrior, before she remembered how deliciously pathetic you had sounded moaning into her.
Without even thinking, Sienna pushed herself up off the bed and against you, hooking her legs around your back and flipping you two over so now she was the one on top.
You let out a noise of surprise as you looked up at her. âShit, okay, not complaining about thisâ.
âOf course youâre not complaining you loserâ she laughed, not really meaning the insult. Even if you were a loser, maybe she liked that.
When you grabbed her hips, Sienna responded by grinding down into you, making your breath hitch. Her face showed a mix of concentration and arousal as she tried to take off her wings, shoulder piece and breast plate as carefully and as quickly as possible â sure the costume had taken months to create, but she also really wanted to be inside you right then.
It took a moment, and you having to actually sit up and help her, but finally she was naked from the waist up and you were rewarded with the sight of her bare chest.
Her breasts were perfect, as you had expected them to be, even if they hadnât been you still wouldâve wanted them in your mouth as much as you wanted them right now. The brunetteâs hair was framing her face perfectly as she looked down at you, the lamp light illuminating the space around her almost creating the impression that she was glowing.
Grabbing her by the hips and pulling her towards you, the warrior shifted in your lap as you teased one of her nipples using your mouth.
âFuckâ she swore, grabbing the back of your hair when you moved one of your hands away from her hip to fondle her left breast a lot less gentle than you were being with your mouth. Sienna couldnât believe this was happening still, she had known about your crush on her for a while now but was surprised either of you had the metaphorical balls to do something about it.
Oh, but was she glad though, now pulling you away from her chest and pushing you forcefully down on the bed. âEnough of this teasing bullshitâ she practically growled, ripping your shirt open so hard that some of the buttons popped off.
Frankly you didnât care, the whole costume was bought on a budget and besides, you were too turned on to think of any of the practicalities.
Once your shirt was open, she shimmed down you to take off your belt again, this time for good, and throw it across the room to land somewhere on her bedroom floor. Next came your cape, which wouldâve made you giggle in any other situation. Sienna pulled down your slacks with an urgency that, coming from her, was previously unbeknownst to you.
She unhooked your bra and threw it to the side to join the other clothes that were on the floor. âTake these off babyâ she was gesturing to your suit trousers.
You kicked them off, leaving them in a bunch at the end of her bed. The half-naked girl bent down to kiss you again as she worked on taking the rest of her costume off, now both of you were basically only in underwear (you still in your shirt somehow â neither of you seemed to care, more concerned with the feeling of her hips pressed against yours).
âYouâre so beautifulâ you couldnât help but comment, running a hand down her arm and noticing the gold shimmer of her glitter paint in the dark. Siennaâs face flushed but you didnât notice, a fact she was grateful of.
The two of you both didnât feel like you needed to say anything else to each other for a while, simply kissing and enjoying the sensation of her bare chest against yours. The brunetteâs breathing was getting heavier though and soon she was reaching to pull down and take off the last article of clothing she had on.
She asked you: âCan we try something?â.
That question made you as curious as it did aroused. âUmm okayâ.
Sienna stroked your thigh comfortingly, worried you were anxious for no good reason. âI can do all the work just-â she sighed as she climbed off you for a moment to take your underwear off too, âlift your leg up and put it over my shoulder babyâ. Feeling a mix of apprehensive and overwhelmed you did as she said â your stomach fluttering as you noticed how strong her hands were.
Then you realised what she was doing, no stranger yourself to porn. And could only moan as she pushed her hips forward and down, so that her cunt met yours.
âDoes this feel good for you?â she asked through pants, clearly enjoying it herself. She felt so wet, and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from swearing when your clits rubbed together. It was too much and not enough at the same time â this was going to be the death of you.
You could only reply to her question with a string of curses and moans as she experimented with different angles, trying to get the most direct contact with your pussy as possible. Some led to more contact than others but all felt as equally good, and the noises that were being made caused your face to feel hot.
Sienna seemed to go harder when you tried to speak but found you couldnât form any words, it was becoming clear to you that she liked when you were a desperate mess.
âYou look so cute right nowâ she said, knowing that neither of you were going to last long. âGod I love you so muchâ leaning down, the dark-haired girl kissed you, still rocking her hips against yours as much as she could in the position.
Even though you werenât getting as much pressure on your clit before now, you still opened your mouth into the kiss â noticing how close you were. She had just said she loved you.
Sienna was pressing her face into your neck now, overwhelmed, her breathing growing more ragged by the minute. âWe canât go back from this you know. After this youâre mineâ she sounded close to crying, âI canât just be your friend, I canâtâ.
You didnât know what to say, so you kissed her again and held her until you both came hard. It was the truth though, the both of you couldnât be friends anymore after what had happened.
You tried to catch your breath, body still trembling, and told her: âI love you tooâ.
On the Monday two days later, the weather was warm and got increasingly more unbearable as you pulled your hoodie up, hoping to whatever God was listening that the concealer on your neck wouldnât rub off anytime soon. Sienna had rocked up to class in a similar fashion but seemed to pull it off better than you did. Neither of you had approached each other in public for fear of embarrassing yourselves.
Pretences were tiring to keep, and after the weekend that had passed you wouldnât be able to look the brunette in the eye anymore without blushing.
You would call her your friend as you hadnât necessarily put a label on your relationship yet; however, it was a lot more complicated than that now, and you had never been so happy about complications before. Allie and Brooke had texted you a few times over the weekend talking about aimless stuff, and mainly just making sure that you were alive after disappearing on Friday.
But you couldnât tell if they had realised what had gone on â going off of what Sienna had told you about them the night of the party you guessed it was only a matter of time before it would be confirmed to them.
Actually, the idea wasnât as daunting to you as it would have been mere days ago though. It felt like something in you had unravelled, like a rubber band had snapped; you were no longer as fearful of being judged anymore. Maybe it was just because you were so happy, for the past three days now you had woken up in a good mood and it was all down to one person.
Sienna, even when she had just been your friend, made your biggest troubles seem like mere inconveniences when she was around. Her presence was so calming and self-assured. As long as she was with you, nothing could ever hurt you. The girl had said that to you before and you had believed it wholeheartedly. You still did.
And now you two were making the metaphorical (and in this case kind of literal) walk of shame to the lunch table you guys shared with Allie and Brooke every weekday. Both of them seemed a little distracted, but upon realising you and Siennaâs presence they then seemed all too alert. Brooke actually put her phone away. Was this the Twilight Zone or something?
âSoâ the blonde coughed as you sat down next to Allie. Sienna taking the place next to Brooke. Keeping a distance between you and your crush right then was a good idea as you were sure they were about to borderline interrogate you guys. âWhat have you guys got for lunch?â Brooke asked, stabbing some salad with her fork.
What a pleasant surprise, for once in her life Brooke Valdeon wasnât being a complete bitch.
Allie seemed to be following suit, silently asking Sienna to open a bottle of soda for her as she couldnât do it herself. Neither of them seemed to care that you and Sienna had definitely hooked up and were probably more than friends. The only thing that they said that even showed an inclination of their knowledge was when Allie complained about now being the only single one amongst you all.
âSeriously guys, thereâs so many single people out there â surely one of themâs for me, why havenât I found them yet?â
Brooke rolled her eyes; âCause you say cringe shit like that.â You all laughed and even Allie had to crack a smile at that, knowing it was pretty much true.
After lunch break Sienna had offered to walk you to class, just the two of you, leaving a surprisingly supportive Allie and Brooke in your wake. She had her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans and looked incredibly nervous. You had literally seen her entirely naked not even three days ago, and she was still acting like you guys were at the end of a first date or something, you wouldâve poked fun at her if it wasnât so cute.
âWould you wanna come round mine tonight? We could watch a movie, I just renewed my Shudder subscriptionâ she offered quietly.
You tried not to smile, âLike a date?â
She looked down at her converse, nothing like the girl you had been with on Friday. âYeah, I mean, if you want it to beâŠâ
Instead of giving Sienna a verbal response you checked the hallway was empty before grabbing her by her hoodie strings to pull her close and kiss her. You pulled away after a few moments, happy you could now do that without risking making a complete fool of yourself. Watching you as you turned around and opened the door to your next class, Sienna looked surprised. Surely that was a good enough answer to her question.
âSo, is that a yes?!â she shouted after you, flustered.
âDuh, Sienna! Of course itâs a yes!â
a/n: and then you guys had a super cute date/movie night and watched the Texas chainsaw massacre and lived happily ever after with no scary borderline immortal clown ruining your lives ::))
#sienna shaw#terrifier#terrifier 3#wlw#sienna shaw x reader#sienna shaw x fem reader#x fem!reader#x female reader#sienna shaw x you#smut#fluff#friends to lovers#mutual pining#terrifier 2#art the clown#damien leone#fanfic#terrifier 2 fanfic#wlw smut#terrifier allie#jonathan shaw#lauren lavera#Spotify
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omfg i litr read everything uve written off ur masterlist I NEED MOREEEE. i love the way u write megumi especially, i couldnât get enough of it. i hope you write more of him, my heart aches for more tbh đ„č tysm for being such a good writer and feeding us starved readers well
tysm! i'm sooo glad i can be a good source of megumi content for you >_< i looove writing megumi so you'll be seeing sooo much more of him, dw! happy holidays!
this december
jjk fushiguro megumi x fem!reader
itâs always colder on your own, especially around this time of year. you should be at home, bundled up with a warm cup of hot chocolate, but here you are in shinjuku, exorcizing curses with your ex boyfriend two weeks after your breakup with him. great.
content: post break up, aged up megumi (19/20), megumi is terrible at feelings, getting back together, fluff if you squint, a bit of angst, miscommunication, one bed (but it isnât the main plot point sorry), megumi calls you baby like once, gojo is the best wingman, SHIBUYA ARC NEVER HAPPENED AND LIFE IS GOOD, not proofread im very sorry guys pls forgive me, kinda a word dump sry
word count: 5.8k (sigh this was supposed to be 2k words max)
click on my masterlist for more & merry christmas to those who celebrate!
itâs december 19th when satoru gojo tells you that he has a mission just for you. youâre less than ecstatic about it to say the least. the last thing you want to do is be sent to your death just shy of christmas day. you just want to rest your sore muscles and bask in the presence of your best friends. youâre not in the mood to kill any curses, mainly because youâve just recovered from a previous mission.
âwhy me?â you groan.
gone are the days where you used to be a goody two shoes for satoru. youâre old enough to talk back now, not like when you had been a shy fifteen-year-old girl. besides, youâve been around the silver-haired sorcerer long enough to know that he doesnât mind the bite.
âsorry, kid,â satoru says with a shrug. at least he sounds genuine about it. âthe higher ups requested for you specifically. they say youâll get the job done in the cleanest way. we canât have things getting messy before the holidays, right?â
âand you wouldnât be the best choice?â you quip.
satoru only laughs. he ruffles your hair. even with your growth spurt and merciless training, he still towers over you. in a way, heâll always be your mentor. âhey, iâm going out of town that weekend. give me a break.â
you huff petulantly. something about this mission seems fishy to you. youâre not nearly the strongest sorcerer out of the bunch of kids under satoruâs wings (not that you guys are kids anymore, but sometimes itâs hard to feel otherwise). hell, thereâs the kyoto students. it feels like they never have to do anything. you wish that you were rebellious enough to chew utahime out for it.
âwhy couldnât they just make yuta or megumi go?â you mutter under your breath. you stammer out megumiâs name and hope satoru doesnât catch on to the way you can barely say it.
satoru knows about the breakup. why wouldnât he? heâs basically megumiâs dad, even if the raven haired boy refuses to admit it. satoruâs six eyes mean you canât hide anything from him (heâd been the first to know that megumi was head over heels for you).
satoru raises a brow. âoh, right. megumiâs coming along too.â
your face twists and you immediately whip around to glare at him. âyouâre lying.â
âi wish,â he jokes. âi was really hoping iâd get a wedding invitation one day, you little rascal. i canât believe you two broke up. maybe thisâll be a good thing!â
âi appreciate your honesty, butââ
âbut megumiâs an emotionally constipated kid, yeah, that i know,â satoru laughs. he makes his way to the exit of his office which has you furrowing your brows. is your former teacher actually gonna just leave after making you come all the way here? how rude and so very in character of him.
âplease, gojo,â you call out after him, âi donât wanna go with him.â
âsucks for you,â satoru responds halfheartedly. âmerry christmas. try not to take more than a week on this. youâll have to pay the rest of the fee for accommodations if you do.â
âgojo!â you whine.
âitâs not a hard mission!â satoru insists like itâll make your life any easier. âyâknow, this time of year is when things get ugly. think of it as saving as many people as you can while putting in the least amount of effort!â
and then he teleports. your former teacher teleports away rather than being normal and walking out of the door. you roll your eyes and hope that he can sense it (you know he canât).
so thatâs why youâre here now. with your ex. on the elevator to your assigned room on the tenth floor. youâre so glad that itâs a normal hotel and not a love hotel. lord knows what youâd do if you had checked into a love hotel.
megumi hasnât spoken a word to you since he broke up with you two weeks ago. it had been in the doorway to your apartment a few days after a particularly rough mission assigned to the both of youâthe one youâre still recovering from. heâd pulled you in for a hug, whispering sweet words into your ear. he gave you a look, one of those looks that made him soften his usually sharp eyes.
âi think we should break up.â
and then came the pathetic whimper of yours. he had wiped your tears, even kissed them tenderly, before telling you that it wasnât your faultâit was his. how cliche.
now as you stand next to him, you want to beat yourself up for not asking for closure. neither of you had explicitly stated that you two were going to be no-contact, but it hurts a lot less to push the idea of forever with megumi away to the back of your mind. besides, you two arenât confrontational like that. not with each other, anyway.
âneed help?â his tone is soft, tenderâthe tone he reserves specifically for you, the one that tells you he still cares.
you stare down at the luggage at your feet. youâve always been a chronic overpacker, a habit that megumi knows of by now. he watches you curiously, hands itching at his sides. you can tell that he wants to reach out and grab your suitcase like he always does. he thinks he isnât obvious, but you can always read through the lines, especially when itâs megumi.
âiâm okay,â you croak out, clearing your throat awkwardly.
the elevator dings and you make your way to your room. as much as you hate to admit it, youâre sort of glad that you and your ex boyfriend are sharing a room. perhaps hisâll be a good way to get closure, though youâre not really sure what closure entails.
what you donât expect is to unlock the door and be met with a singular bed.
if satoru gojo didnât have a layer of infinity coating his body (and if he wasnât the strongest sorcerer alive), you wouldâve wrung out his neck.
megumi simply walks into the room, setting his duffel bag down on one of the dressers opposite from the foot of the bed. he doesnât comment on the lack of double beds, seemingly already aware of the set up.all he does is puff out a weary sigh. you suck in a breath and follow him inside, slipping your shoes off at the entrance.
you lug your suitcase in after you along with your duffel bag and backpack. you stumble forward and megumiâs arm snakes around your waist, steadying you.
âcareful,â he mutters, nonchalantly taking your bag off our your shoulders.
itâs a quick series of movements; he swings your bag over his shoulders and places it on the dresser next to the one heâs claimed while guiding you softly to the side of the bed so that youâre not standing in the middle of the doorway.
you scrunch your face, feeling your heart thump against your ribcage. itâs stupid how he still has such a hold on you, even after two weeks of not seeing or talking to him. heâs just so caring, so gentle. it stings, like little the little cuts you get when fighting curses, when you realize that this is something youâll have to learn how to lose.
âthanks,â you manage to mutter. you donât trust yourself to say anything else. you know from the way your throat tightens that youâll be crying soon if you force yourself to talk any more.
âi can take the couch,â megumi says.
itâs that easy with him; heâs a gentleman, so of course heâd take the couch. thatâs the way megumi fushiguro isâhe offers a solution before you even have the chance to complain. in your year and a half long relationship, that skill of his had been a saving grace.
âno, donât bother,â you croak. âiâll book another room.â
âreally?â he asks. he stands up a little straighter, awkwardly reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. âi mean, i donât mind sharing a room with you⊠weâve..â
weâve shared a room countless of times before.
megumi doesnât have to continue his sentence for you to understand what heâs implying. you part your lips to speak, but nothing comes out except for a long, heavy sigh. your shoulders drop as you let the exhaustion seep into your bones. thereâs no use arguing about it, not when you don'tâ mind sharing a room with megumi, either.
âweâve broken up,â you remind him in a quiet voice, like youâre afraid saying it out loud will make it truer than it already is.
megumi pauses. you see his adamâs apple bob as he swallows thickly. âi know that, but ⊠itâll be fine. weâve shared a room as friends before.â
heâs right, like he usually is. you two have shared a room before as just friends, but that had been as teenagersâback when you both harbored such hardcore crushes on each other that you two somehow didnât notice.
âright,â you find yourself agreeing with a small nod.
âyou should go get ready for bed.â megumi begins grabbing a few or the decorative pillow off of the bed. he places them gingerly on the brown couch tucked in the corner of the hotel room. âweâll be getting up pretty early to deal with the brunt of the mission.â
to finish this mission as quickly as possible, you think.
and so you oblige and head to the bathroom. itâs december 19th, just a few days shy of christmas day, and youâre in bed with your ex boyfriend on the couch just a few feet away.
december 20th greets you with megumi hovering over you. he peers down at you with his messy bangs covering his eyes. theyâre piercingly blue as he blinks. his lashes flutter perfectly, even in the early morning. your eyes meet his and you jolt awake.
âgood morning,â he says. âyour alarm has been ringing for a bit now, so i turned it off.â
you blink rapidly, getting the tiredness out of your eyes. âoh.â
he chuckles softly, just enough for you to catch it with your ears. he rises from his crouched position and heads to the front door. he spares you a glance over his shoulder before he heads out, presumably giving you the privacy you need. you let out a strangled breath before you swing your legs over the bed and head to the bathroom.
by the time youâre finished putting on your uniform, you swing the door to your hotel room open and see megumi leaned up against the wall, tapping away on his phone. his dark blue eyes flicker up to you and he turns away to head down the hall.
you furrow your brows. you canât help but think that heâs being a little cold to you. it isnât like you initiated the breakup. despite your frustration with his behavior, you can sort of understand why he wouldnât want to be sweet around you; you two arenât dating anymore and so it makes sense that heâd go back to being aloof in your presence, the usual way he acts around everyone else. losing that position in his life makes your stomach churn for reasons youâre less than willing to uncover.
your mission is a vague one; all you know is that itâs a clean-up mission. rather than a level 1 curse (or even a special grade), the mission consists of an acclimation of weak curses surrounding shinjuku. these missions are normally given to younger, more inexperienced sorcerers with the help of a senior sorcerer, but for an odd reason, itâs been given to you and megumi this year. megumi couldâve probably handled it himself. actually, you couldâve handled it yourself.
you bite your tongue to hold back on your complaints as you walk just a step behind megumi. he pauses regularly, waiting for you to catch up to his side. you roll your eyes in secret. does he not realize that you donât want to walk next to him?
âitâs all just bars,â you mutter.
with that, you earn a tiny laugh from megumi. âwell, yeah. this is the red-light district of shinjuku.â
you pale. âthis sucks.â
âwhy do you think i wanted to come out here in the morning rather than at night?â he says, his tone strangely light.
âto deal with the brunt of the mission,â you repeat his words from last night sarcastically. youâre unsure as to what heâs talking about, so you think that itâs okay to give him a little bit of attitude.
he raises his brow but doesnât comment on your sarcasm. instead, he says softly, âno, stupid. itâs because this is the red-light district. itâs unsafe for anyone, especially a pretty, young girl alone at night.â
your first thought is to coo and tease him. you think iâm pretty? it takes you half a second to remember that you two are broken up. you scoff, âiâm perfectly capable of handling myself.â
âi never said you werenât,â megumi shoots back. âit would just be annoying explaining to the higher ups why you were fighting people and not curses.â
âiâm sure theyâd understand,â you retort, frowning. you cross your arms.
âdonât be so pouty,â he says in that stupid, gentle tone he uses with you when youâre acting bratty.
you both decide to split up. well, itâs more like you demand the two of you to split up. you say it under the pretense that itâll get the job done faster. besides, you both want to be home before christmas day, right?
thereâs about two curses you cross paths with every hour. youâre starting to lose your mind. shouldnât the streets be infested with them? you donât even need a veil! all you have to do is give the weak curses just one punch and they vaporize on the spot. your head is running with hundreds of thoughts.
thatâs when it hits you: the first years at the tokyo jujutsu school did come out here a week prior! maybe they did a bad job? but you remember nobara had been the one to lead the group. she may half-ass almost everything in her life, but she wouldnât jeopardize her underclassmen for the sake of her freetime.
so why on earth are you here? itâs not like there are enough harmful curses for a mission to be assigned to you right before christmas, and to you and megumi of all sorcerers. youâre both strong enough to the point of having some kind of importance in the jujutsu world. the higher ups wouldnât send the two of you on some stupid mission for the sake of it unless theyâre planning some sort of secret execution. but even then, satoru gojo shouldâve known through their lies to not send you or megumi. unlessâŠhe wants you two deadâŠ?
you shake your head and bite your nails. the sun begins to set and you realize that youâve been out here for longer than you expected. youâre starting to feel a chill in your bonesâyou had argued petulantly with megumi earlier about not wanting to wear your jacket despite it being the dead of winter; âitâs gonna get in the way!â
you always seem to forget the the sun sets earlier in the winter. itâs stupid how bright all the lights are in shinjuku. there isnât a square foot of anything that isnât lit up with neon signs reading out the names of clubs and bars. you see couples and large groups of people walking along the streets.
itâs lonely, you realize. it wouldâve been less lonely with megumi.
you make your way to the meeting spot with megumi. you both share a few small words before retiring for the night. megumi says he wants to go sightseeing, even though thereâs really nothing much to see. he doesnât return to the hotel room until late at night.
when he slips into the only bed that the room offers, you chalk it up to the slight alcohol you smell on his lips. it feels so natural that you donât push him away even though you should. his body is warm and you fit so perfectly against his broad chest that you think itâll be okay for you to be a little selfish tonight.
âgânight,â megumi mumbles in his sleep.
you smile and nuzzle closer.
itâs december 21st as you realize how late it is in the day. megumi is back on the couch. you feel a tinge of disappointment in the bottom of your stomach.
to no oneâs surprise, the sun is barely peeking over the buildings when youâre finally back in the red-light district. youâre doing the last bit of cleanup, but thereâs really nothing much for you to clean.
tomorrow, youâll be heading to a shopping mall, so you suppose you should do your best to sniff out the rest of the curses littering the place unless you want to stay here an extra day. the day is, yet again, slow.
itâs nearing 8 PM and you're finally sure that youâve gotten rid of all the curses in the general area. youâve been done for quite a while now, but you just havenât found the courage to let megumi know that youâre ready to go back to the hotel room. a little sightseeing on your end wouldnât hurt, right?
âhi, pretty.â a gravelly voice, battered by cigarettes, whispers in your ear.
you jump in surprise. you need to remember not to get too far into your head. you shouldâve felt his presence coming from a mile away. itâs a terrible habit and satoru has scolded you for years about it.
âhi,â you mutter, pushing past his larger frame.
the man isnât as nicely built as the men you know (but then again, your friends are jujutsu sorcerers, so itâs kind of hard to beat that), but he still towers over you. heâs got a squad of rough-looking guys behind him, smirking down at you.
âwhyâs someone like you alone?â he says, shoving his arm to loop around your waist.
you roll your eyes, getting ready to punch the man square in the nose. will you get in trouble? probably yes. will it be a funny story to tell? also probably yes.
âdonât touch my wife.â
the group of men turn their heads along with you to see megumi. his expression is shrouded with a mixture of anger and frustration. you blink in confusionâmegumi usually looks pretty pissed off, but this is the most angry youâve seen him in a while. and âwifeâ? whatâs up with that?
âoh, my bad,â the man chuckles. âdidnât know this pretty thing was married.â
âthis âpretty thingâ wants you to let her go,â you say with an overly sweet smile. your teeth clench and you hiss, âright now.â
the guy scurries down the sidewalk with his buddies trailing along, making fun of him for hitting on a married woman. nobody mentions the lack of a ring on your finger. nobody mentions the lack of a relationship, either.
âwife?â you scowl. âweâre broken up.â
âguys tend to back up when they know a woman is married. itâs the only way you can really, uh, get them to go away around here.â
you glare at him. âand how would you know? you come here often with girls?â
â...no?â he blinks, unable to comprehend your sudden burst of jealousy. âi sometimes get missions around here, though. pretending to be married was the easiest wayââ
âwe arenât, though. weâre not even in a relationship.â you seem to be throwing that into his face a lot more than you should. you canât help it, though. you still feel a little bitter about not getting a real reason as to why megumi wanted to break up.
âi was trying to help you.â heâs calm and collected, as heard through his voice. he walks up to you and takes your freezing hand into his much warmer ones. âletâs go home.â
âi donât want to,â you argue.
âstop being a brat,â he says, but thereâs no bite to his words. âyouâre cold and youâve been out here all day. if i hadnât stopped those guys, you probably wouldâve beat them up pretty badly.â
âiâm not a fucking brat!â you try to retract your hand, but megumiâs grip only tightens.
âbaby, stop,â the pet name rolls off his tongue with ease. megumi sighs softly and pulls you to his chest. âwhy are you so worked up, hm?â
from the way he speaks, you can tell that he already has an inkling. the breakup. cuddling last night. hugging you now. everything.
you donât realize youâre crying until he gently wipes his thumb under your eye. he has the audacity to have an amused grin plastered on his stupidly pretty lips. your vision is blurry but if it hadnât been, you wouldâve thrown a punch.
âiâm sorry,â he whispers into your hair. âitâs all my fault.â
âit is,â you whimper pathetically. all the tears and the emotions youâve been holding back bubble up to the surface.
âdonât be upset,â he almost pleads. âletâs go back, okay?â
the night ends with megumi on the couch. neither of you bring up the argument or the fact that he had slept in your bed with you last night. you two donât talk about the usage of pet names, either.
when you open your eyes on december 22nd, youâre surprised to see that megumi has already headed out for the day. you click your tongue in annoyanceâheâs always been good at avoiding his problems when it comes to dealing with them, especially problems involving his emotions. you already know where youâre supposed to be headed, so you suppose that itâs for the best that heâd left before you.
the shopping mall is a long line of vendors and stores among other things. the snow on the ground is freshâit mustâve snowed late last night after youâd fallen asleep. it crunches underneath your beat-up sneakers with each step you take. youâre not shocked when you end up wandering aimlessly, dipping in and out of stores with no real urgency to finish your mission.
thereâs nothing to do anyway.
youâve killed about 3 curses total and itâs really starting to look like youâve been sent out here for busy work. you really shouldâve figured that out the first day of the mission when you had to practically beg the curses to come out and fight you.
you find yourself in the front of a jewelry store, eyeing a pretty bracelet that you know would look stunning around megumiâs wrist. itâs one of those bracelets that clasp tightly. thereâs a thicker band in the center with pretty carvings that seem to resemble some sort of swirly heart. itâs pretty, you have to admit.
without much thought, you buy the gift.
the seller has to clear her throat to get your attention when you donât answer her question. âum, would you like this to be wrapped?â
you nod absentmindedly. âoh, yes. sorry. please wrap it.â
she nods in return and proceeds to wrap the bracelet in a tiny box, adorning it with a festive bow. you ask her to change it out for a different color, explaining that it isnât a christmas gift and instead, itâs for someoneâs birthday. she offers you a warm smile before switching it with a muted blue ribbon.
you return to the hotel, having to take an expensive taxi. you donât mindâthe bracelet has already made a decent-sized dent in your wallet. why not spend an extra amount on getting home? itâs not like jujutsu sorcerers are paid poorly.
reality hits you when you finally get back to the hotel room. you want to punch yourself for being so stupid. did you really just buy a birthday present for your ex-boyfriend?
youâre thankful that megumi hasnât arrived yet. he seems to be determined to avoid you for as long as he can. you canât blame him, either. you did give him quite a hard time yesterday.
you toss the box on to the dresser and head to the bathroom to splash some much needed cold water on to your face. maybe thatâll wake you up enough to clear your mind. youâve acted out once during this trip already and youâre not really looking forward to any other possible outbursts.
you rinse your face and pat yourself dry with one of the face towels provided to you by the hotel staff. you hang it over the rack again and tiredly make your way to your bed. you halt your movements when you see megumi standing by the dresser, admiring your gift.
he looks up at you in surprise with the smallest grin on his face. itâs so subtle that you wouldâve missed it had you not been dating him for nearly two years.
âis this for me?â
âno,â you quickly deny. his face falls and you cough out, âum, i mean.. yeah. i-i didnât⊠i⊠happy birthday.â
he brightens, lips pulling up into a real, genuine smile. âyou remembered?â
âwhy wouldnât i?â you blurt gently. you bite your inner cheek to stop yourself from saying anything more.
âi dunno.â his voice is distant and low, like heâs trying to hold back his tears. âi justâŠi didnât think i was deserving of a gift from you. thank you. i like it.â
you stand awkwardly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. âyeah, wellâŠâ
âcan you help me put it on?â he asks, sitting at the edge of your unmade bed.
you feel your body heat up. part of you screams for you to stop. you shouldnât do that. itâs far too intimate and you two are broken up. youâve never been good at making decisions, though, so you sit next to him and feel the mattress dip.
he gives you a grateful look, one that you willfully ignore, and gives you his wrist. you clasp the bracelet on, fingertips just barely grazing his skin. your heart skips a beat and you have to inhale sharply before pulling away.
âthank you,â he whispers.
december 23rd is a sore reminder that life goes on. you had half-expected something to spark between you and megumi. perhaps heâd beg for you back, or maybe with less wishful thinking, heâd give you his real reason as to why he doesnât want you anymore.
âi donât think we need to go anymore,â megumi says when you come out of the bathroom after freshening up.
âhuh? why not?â
âthereâs nothing out there.â megumiâs voice is flat.
âi know, but weâll get in trouble if weâŠâ
âgojo probably sent us out here for fun.â
your lips part. megumi turns to you with a slight frown.
âdonât you think so too?â he asks, but you know it isnât a question heâs looking to find an answer to. âwhy would the higher-ups assign a mission like this to a special grade sorcerer and a grade 1 sorcerer? if they needed that much manpower, this mission wouldâve been deadlier. instead, weâre playing cleanup crew.â
âyeah, but..â you trail off, unable to think of a statement to refute his words. âif we go back now, weâll get chewed out.â
âitâs just a scolding. youâll be fine.â megumi stands up and stretches his arms.
you watch him cautiously as he begins to fold his clothes and throw them into his duffel bag. he doesnât say anything else, letting the silence overtake the room.
â...are we leaving, then?â you ask meekly, not bothering to hide the slight quiver in your voice.
he pauses slightly. âdo you want to stay here until christmas? this mission is stupid and you know it. thereâs no point.â
why is his tone so cold all of the sudden? itâs as if you two hadnât shared a moment last night before bed. does your gift not mean anything to him now that heâs cleared his mind with a good rest?
your eyes flicker to his wrist. the gold glimmers underneath the light and you realize that megumi doesnât seem to hate wearing it. so why is he acting so ⊠unpleasant?
you feel a lump in your throat. itâs embarrassing how quickly heâs able to upset you from just the tone of his voice. even his body language, usually fluid and smooth, is rigid with your presence. you want to tell him that youâve enjoyed your time with him. you want to shake his shoulders and tell him that if you two cut your mission short, you might not get another chance to be near him again.
âdo you still care about me?â you whisper instead.
he stills completely. âwhat?â
âthis entire time,â you begin shakily, âyouâve been nice to me. you treat me like you always do. youâre always hovering over me even though you pretend you arenât! you obviously still care, megumi.â
his adam's apple bobs as swallows. a beat of silence. then two. then three.
âi do care,â he admits sorely.
âthen why did you break up with me?â you blurt. there it is, the question youâve been meaning to ask. you both had seen it coming.
âbecauseâŠâ megumi winces as if heâs the one getting hurt from the ordeal. âbecause you deserve someone thatâs normal. someone that isnât a sorcerer. i canât give you that life.â
you feel your chest swarm with anger. why does he always think he needs to sabotage himself to make others happy? this is something youâve tried working with him on, but it seems like old habits are hard to kill off, just like your habit of loving him.
âwhy the hell would you decide that for me? when did i ever say i wanted a normal life?â you snap. your hands clench at your sides.
âitâs too early for this,â he says, his voice straining as he finally musters up the strength to look at you in your eyes.
âtell me, megumi. if thatâs the real reason, then that is the most pathetic excuse for a breakup i've ever heard.â your voice cracks and you gulp down the oncoming sob thatâs threatening to explode from your throat.
he inhales slowly and makes his way to you, holding you close against his chest. you should push him away, but you would rather let him hug you. you know that you canât fight him, anyway.
âyouâŠonce said you wanted a regular relationship. when you got hurt a few weeks ago, i realized i couldnât be that for you,â he confesses lowly. âi knew that youâd never find it in yourself to leave, so i figured i should just let you go for your saââ
âare you kidding me?â you shout incredulously. âi said that when i was fifteen, megumi! before i even knew what being in love was like!â
he flinches against you. âbut iâŠâ
âyou and your damn savior complex! i donât need to be in a regular, normal relationship! i donât need any of that, megumi! iâm a sorcerer, I won't ever get to be normal! in fact, itâs even better that iâm with you because you at least know what this life is like, you idiot! youâre always ruining the good things in your life because youââ
he takes his fingers to grab your chin and he pulls you in for a kiss. if the kiss is a ploy to shut you up, you hate to admit that itâs working. his tongue slips into your mouth and you melt against him. your arms loop around his neck as you desperately drag him down closer to your body. his hand grip your waist while the other clings to the small of your back.
you whimper out of instinct and he pulls away, lips bruised and breathless. itâs been so long since youâve tasted him and you frown, tiptoeing to capture his lips again. you need to savor him, to feel him lips against yours again.
âbaby, wait.â his chest heaves as he looks down at you. âdonâtâŠdonât do this to me.â
âdo what?â you ask, an edge to your voice. did he just reject you? even after all that?
âw-we gotta report back toââ
âweâre supposed to leave tomorrow,â you interrupt.
the gears shift in his head. âfine, butââ
âiâm still really fucking mad, but i just need you to kiss me right now,â you whine impatiently.
all megumi does is laugh when he swoops down to press his lips against yours.
itâs december 24th when you two find yourselves in satoruâs office. steam is practically rising from your ears as you try to compose yourself in front of your former teacher.
â... i wanted a wedding invitation.â satoru shrugs.
âyou set us up!â you whine angrily. âgojo, are you serious?! isnât this a little immature?â
megumi stays silent, averting his gaze. he suddenly finds the succulents on satoruâs desk very interesting. heâs never noticed that theyâre all nearly dead! how cool.
your eyes shoot daggers at megumi's silence.
"we aren't gonna get married any time soon..." megumi mutters when he feels your pointy glare on him.
satoru raises his hands in mock surrender. âyou two canât blame me! it worked out! you two are back together now, right?â
âbut did you have to make us look like fools out there?â you groan.
âyou shouldâve figured it out on the first day that the mission was a sham!â satoru exclaims, offense taking over his features.
âbut still!â youâre borderline hysterical at this point, unable to believe that your former teacher of all people had to set up an entire fake mission so that you and your ex could talk your feelings out. âwe wouldâve figured ourselves out sooner or later!â
megumi nods. he feels like he should at least give you a little support even if heâs embarrassed out of his mind.
âoh really?â satoruâs voice drips with sarcasm. âyou guys should be thanking meââ
âyouâre so not getting an invitation to our wedding!â you grumble.
âwhaâhey! iâm the one that got you two back together! besides, iâm megumiâs guardian! you canât just not invite me.â
âwatch me!â
âmegumi, tell her that she canât do thatâhey! where are you guys going? invite me, you rascalsâwhy are you guys leaving? we arenât done discussing this! megumi, donât you dare take her side! she isnât even your wife yetâdonât slam my door!â
#jjk x reader#jjk x you#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen#megumi x you#fushiguro megumi x reader#jjk megumi#megumi fluff#not my best work tbh
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ATSV Characters with a Goth S/o
heeeeeyyyyyy guys đ *slowly sliding the 100+ REQUESTS in my inbox to the side to make room for a new special interest*
đ„Cw: none, mostly fluff!!!
đ„Pairing(s): Hobie x reader, Miles x reader, Miguel x reader, Spot x reader
Hobie
he would LOVE any type of alternative partner tbh- he just LOOOVESSS that ur goth and will support you 100%
people who go against societies expectations/standards and don't fit in with the norm intrigue him, and your style is probably what piqued his interest in the first place
y'all definitely wear matching fits sorry i don't make the rules- hobie just can't pass up the opportunity to match w you!!! whenever you go to meetings within the spider society he always brings you along, regardless of whether or not you're a spiderperson and hobie loves showing off you and your style
MAJOR "THATS MY PARTNERâŒïž" VIBES
look me in the eyes and tell me hobia would not absolutely rock some funky eyeliner LIKEEEEE- he def lets you practice on him and will do your makeup for you too!!!
hobie loves thrifting with you, there is no way he isn't a major thrifter and you both definitely DIY a lot of your clothes
HE MAKES YOU GUYS MATCHING PUNK BATTLE VESTS FOR YOUR ANNIVERSARY, AND MAKES SURE THAT IT MATCHES UR AESTHETIC AS WELL!!
hobie absolutely has BLESSED music taste, but while he usually listens to rock, punk, dad rock, or post-punk type of music, i def see him enjoying more gothic/new wave music- especially if u introduce it to him!!!
i see him enjoying bauhaus, sisters or mercy, scary bitches, etc- he'll also give YOU a lot of music recommendations and help to expand ur taste!
hobie would also accompany you to any protests or conventions that you wanted to attend, and would act as your scary dog privileges
YOU TWO DEFINITELY GO TO CONCERTS TOGETHER OMG. I TOTALLY SEE THAT AS A SPONTANEOUS DATE THAT YOU TWO ENJOY A LOT
honestly hobie is a lovely partner to have if you are goth, and he's not only supportive but VERY enthusiastic about your fashion and lifestyle!
Miles
hes such a sweetheart!!! he definitely supports you if you're goth and asks a LOOOT of questions lmao
miles draws you and your fashion a lot, and will def design makeup or eyeliner ideas for you too!!! while ik this is more associated with punk, i also see miles drawing you a few custom patches and stuff like that
your kind of like his muse in a way, and miles just really enjoys sketching you, especially since you have such a unique aesthetic and such cool outfits
HE HAS DEFINITELY GRAFFITIED U SOMEWHEREâŒïž
he loves watching you get ready and do your makeup. seeing you do perfect eyeliner wings and heavy makeup in general lowkey relaxes him, and he just loves admiring you
im sorry but miles knows absolutely nothing about goth music or culture, ur gonna have to introduce him to a lot of the songs/bands!!!
while i don't think he's huge on the music at first, i think it would grow on him over time. its definitely the type of thing that he loves because YOU love it, and he sees how mu much you enjoy it so he starts listening to it as well so he can talk to you about it
i think his favorite band would be the cure, and his fav songs would either be boys dont cry or the walk (both by the cure- idk why thats so specific but they just kinda fit his vibe yk?)
miles likes holding hands a lot, and he loves when you wear rings or gloves or something along those lines because it just reminds him so much of you! your hands just feel different compared to other peoples and he just loves how unique you are
if you have a lot of piercings, miles would definitely ask about them or buy you specific jewelry for piercings!!!!
overall, very very cute and supportive about your style!!! (he lowkey gives bi wife energy, and iyk what in talking ab then ily mwah)
Miguel
he's pretty indifferent to your style at first, i don't see him as the type to judge much based on appearances. its your personality that really throws him for a loop, and a part of him admires your dedication to making yourself look how you want to look and truly living to be your best self, regardless of what others think
if you think miles knows nothing about being goth then be prepared for miguel bc he knows NOTHINGGGG- no music, no history, no political views, zero, zilch, nada, goose egg
if he cares about you i do see him being intrigued about your style, and once you two are officially dating is when he'll show more interest in your personal fashion sense
he strikes me as the type to like, NEVER listen to music, so he literally only listens to the music you like!!! he does find himself occasionally humming the tune of some strawberry switchblade song or casually listening to a siouxsie and the banshees song while he works, and over time you influence him a LOT with your music taste. he definitely associates any and all goth music with YOU, and that's probably why he starts enjoying it.
he's a "hand on you at all times" type of guy, and while he is rarely touchy with others, miguel is definitely keeping you close. your fashion makes that convenient for him, and he loves pulling you into a kiss by grabbing onto your belt loop or something of the sort
miguel loves how you look with and without makeup on and isn't afraid to tell you that, however, he really likes it if you incorporate his colors or color scheme into your makeup one day. he'll never admit it, but you keep catching him admiring you with the smallest smirk on his face every few seconds
if anyone ever gave u shit for what you wear and how you dress, especially someone in the spider society, you'd practically have to restrain miguel from drop kicking them across nueva york- he doesn't want anyone to be rude to you , and while he knows you can stand up for yourself, he just gets protective at times
Spot
goth? whats that???
he's lowkey such a nerd, and spends too much time being science-y and planning on how to beat spiderman to actually get caught up on fashion
spot doesn't know how he pulled you tbh, but he appreciates you nonetheless!!! he thinks you and your aesthetic are something to be admired, and will unabashedly tell EVERYONE he knows about you
he will shoplift any clothing or jewelry that you want, and he'll even take you to other dimensions where there are better alternative clothes as well
spot doesn't really have a face to do makeup on, but he'll offer to do yours for you! surprisingly enough he's pretty good at it, though he does work pretty slowly
spot loves fiddling with your accessories, whenever he's standing near you he's always reaching out to touch you in some way shape or form. he loves playing with any chains or necklaces you wear, and will help adjust them so that they lay correctly
he helps you get ready in the morning!!!!! if ur the type of goth to wear corsets, he makes lacing them up SO easy and will gladly do it for you
i personally hc that spot HATES seeing himself in mirrors/pictures, it reminds him sm of what he used to look like, but he LOVES taking photos of you and your style!! whenever you are wearing a cute outfit or have funky makeup on, spot adores just taking photos of you
if you ever did a makeup look inspired by him and his spots he would probably CRY :(
URGRHHRHHRRR I LOVE ATSV SMMMMMMM!!!! this post will DEFINITELY have a pt2 w more characters!!!!! i swear tho atsv literally pulled me out of the most horrendous burnout ever i FELT the artblock and writing block lift off of my body as i watched it. IM SO INVESTED I MADE A SPIDERSONA...
#atsv x reader#atsv x you#atsv x y/n#atsv x male reader#atsv x fem reader#atsv x oc#hobie spiderverse#hobie brown#hobie x reader#hobie x y/n#hobie x oc#hobie x you#atsv hobie x reader#atsv hobie#hobie headcanons#atsv miles#atsv miles x reader#miles morales#miles morales x reader#miles morales x you#miles morales x y/n#miles morales headcanons#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x reader
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Damn i really want to know tf happened in the writing room of arcane s2. Some of the downgrades were inevitable due to the show's corporate limitations (not being able to progress the class war story in a meaningful way, having to tie things back to league of legends in terms of making playable characters more appealing to well, play... rip Mel and Viktor in particular), sure. But i still feel like it's even worse than that? There are so many bad decisions that i couldn't even start listing them all... the characters, plot, pacing, themes, it's just such a mess? Even the dialogue writing, it feels much more mm Marvel at its worst i suppose. What i am most bothered by is probably just the straight up harmful messaging so um... Cycles of violence and abuse can be broken by individual decisions to become a better person! Got nothing to do with systemic oppression, living conditions, mental health issues, you can just conveniently ignore aaall the social context, live laugh love and then things get better automatically yep, oppressors famously stop oppressing you when you show them that you're harmless and won't put up a fight anymore. Literally three out of three suicidal characters dying to redeem themselves? Not even in a tragic/cathartic way but in a bittersweet 'they finally atoned for their mistakes' way? Groundbreaking lmao. Romantic relationship between Vi and Caitlyn including no communication about their biggest fight, just conveniently skipping to sex and getting back together - would have loved that if it was framed as the unhealthy fucked up thing that it is, skipping over Vi's hurt and her background to once again become a cop, her girlfriend's direct underling at that (!) due to her not having any other support systems... But nope that was our cute lesbian romance wrapped up, a good thing all around, not concerning at all. Jayce telling Viktor that what he 'always admired about him' was his disability and his deadly disease (??? from a character who spent the whole s1 and first act of s2 desperately trying to help Viktor find a cure? sure) and that those imperfections don't need fixing, just wtf truly. Magic bullshit was also weird, some implications of 'natural magic is ok, but achieving that power through other means corrupts you into a crazy robot bitch or just wilts your trees i guess', but tbh it was written in such a weird and inconsistent way that we can skip this one... Yeah actually a lot of things were just such a mess that I feel silly pointing to specific moments or lines I didn't like, I mean duh, it barely makes sense as a story at all... I am happy we have s1 which comparatively was a masterpiece, and i also really enjoyed s2 act1, i truly believed it would lead somewhere good at the time, my mind still kind of cuts off the story at that point when i think about it, that WAS the open ending of the show to me (is it possible that there were rewrites? targeting act 2 and 3? idk, wishful thinking perhaps). Despite my extremely negative feelings about this season's conclusion i remain glad that so many people appreciate the show regardless, it is clear that there was STILL a lot of love in the process of its creation (although i'd argue that even some of the visual aspects of the show suffered in quality, once again i have to wonder about behind the scenes mood of it all) and i get very upset when i see creatives online despairing over reception of their projects even when i'm absolutely in the disgruntled crowd hahaha... ...however yeah, this wasn't great In a world that increasingly grows more and more right-wing politically... we really needed something different i think.
#tbh i also feel a little annoyed that all the league jayvik fans were right all along#i always rolled my eyes like oh shush changing the characters doesnt mean ruining them#and here we are#boo boo the fool jpeg#arcane spoilers#arcane s2 spoilers#arcane critical#negative#ranting#text#long post
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Heyyy!! Could you write some HC for the bay-verse!tmnt x fem!angel reader? Like how would they feel if Mikey just showed up one day with a legit angel, like mike is trying to hard to not punch Leo because of how mean heâs being to her just because she has really big (and quite frankly beautiful) wings
Hello!
Angel Reader x Bayverse TMNT
Pretty, sweet, caring character with huge bird wings comes in out of nowhere
She gets cozy with Mikey - who, of course, is being SHAMELESSLY flirtatious.
These are their FIRST reactions. Because this is much more a 'beginning' to a long story.
-I agree that Mikey would be the ONLY one being cordial
-You are not a civilian of any kind. No matter how you became an angel, of if you're an ACTUAL angle, or how kind or funny or affectionate you are.
-You are a flying, highly specialized mutant with secretive origins, intentions and strength. You are NOT to be trusted.
-Your pretty wings and face could NOT matter less to these guys. Because tbh, giant bird wings aren't anywhere near the weirdest thing they've seen đ
-Raph is still gonna be a scary piece of shit. He wouldn't ever hurt you without being explicitly provoked. But there is a LOT of sarcasm and eye rolls and he likes to LOOM over you. He's scary.
-Donnie will NOT be a piece of shit, but his curiosity will NOT come from a place of wonder. He will know almost everything about you very quickly without your permission. He won't talk to you much. He will talk about you a lot as if you aren't standing right there. Or info dumping about highly personal information about you to the room of people.
- Leo is gonna be a passive-aggressive scary piece of shit. They will NOT be happy or kind with you being around. Always drilling you. He'd loom too.
-Lots of, "Who are you?" "Where did you come from?" "Why are you here?" "How did you find us?" "What do you know?"
-Leo's contention and cynicism will have nothing with you 'having wings.'
-Your intentions, potential power and strength, and your mysterious origins are dangerous to him, his family, and his city.
-He will not trust a word out of your mouth.
-They would do the exact same with a giant ugly mutant like Bebop or Rocksteady. They were this way even with APRIL. They don't have the privilege to trust easily. ESPECIALLY flying humanoid creatures in New York trying to flirt with Mikey.
-BTW, if you start flirting with Mikey back, ALL of their alarm bells go off.
-Mikey getting hurt emotionally is one thing-
-But c'mon, Mikey wouldn't be able to pull anyone unless they were there to steal, betray or kill them, right?
-You'd have to do a lot of stuff for them. Usually in combative situations, to prove you aren't there to hurt anyone
-ESPECIALLY for Mikey. Leo, Raph and Donnie might think Mikey has negative rizz, but they will do their best to ensure you will not hurt him.
-There will not be a whole lot Mikey can do to curb their suspicions or cruelty, despite his extensive efforts. No, you will have to do that on your own.
-But with some crazy adventures and near-death experiences, you'd be the COOLEST addition to the mutant circle.
#it would make for an AWESOME story#but their dicks okay#they have to be#ESPECIALLY at first#bayverse#raphael#leonardo#tmnt#donatello#tmnt bayverse#bayverse tmnt#my writing#tmnt headcanons#tmnt x reader#ask
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yâknow generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3
ANYWAYS hereâs the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL
some random notes under the cut yaaaay
chip â
he jingles when he walks. somehow heâs still stealthy. i do not know how
kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesnât really have a reason to take it off (and itâs a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)
his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when heâs excited
i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when heâs angry would be cool :]
chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/
he has scars from the red lightning, theyâre just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. theyâre a similar red to his coat even once theyâve healed
gillion â
the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesnât usually wear it when heâs just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that itâs usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. itâs mostly meant for places where thereâs cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didnât draw it because there wasnât any room lol
his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins
also kept his ring! his hands arenât really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it wonât sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe
tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and iâm still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i donât tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it couldâve been a unique thing for him but alas
i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that
also forgor to include pretzel </3 thatâs okay though she can get her own design sheet later. sheâs special like that
jay â
i believe in tall jay supremacy
blue magic! i was considering gold but thatâd look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]
her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy theyâll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair
i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i donât like tank tops very much LOL
i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldnât quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe thatâll come later, the way the storyâs going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something
overall â
because thereâs just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destinyâs blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destinyâs blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown
the only real exception is gillion doesnât have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)
#.png#jrwi#jrwi riptide#just roll with it#jrwi chip#gillion tidestrider#jay ferin#jrwi spoilers#THEYRE FINALLY DONE zoo wee mama#the lines are thicker on the little armour drawings because i did the sketch thing and then went yk what. good enough. and just coloured tha#also got rid of gills button nose it was too annoying to draw#iâm so used to straight and aquiline noses#another thing that couldâve been unique for him in terms of my character designs#but nah#pls ignore that i drew them all standing on diff planes/angles btw i wasnât trying very hard w that#weirdly proud of myself for managing to give them all pretty unique profiles#thatâs normally something i kinda get stuck on. drawing people from the side#in different ways besides nose shape
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Dean saved the world? - show me receipts!
Im sorry but seeing that other post about Charlie thanking dean for saving the world just lit my head on fire!... so instead of hijacking someone else's post, decided to dash off my own...n It also got me thinking - we keep being TOLD that dean is a saviour n saved the world (while being SHOWN his horrible,terrible,abusive behaviours onscreen) repeatedly by other characters incl sam.... but - where'sthe evidence?... here's my quick little rundown - tell me if you can spot dean "saving the world"?... coz I really couldn't...I tried, I promise!
let's look at the world-ending events in the show shall we:
Apocalypse v1.0? - it was sam(swansong) doing the saving - n caused by DEAN breaking 1st seal by selling his soul n the winged rat actively being a co-conspirator n manipulator
Godstiel (apocalypse2.0?) - sam again (remember him stabbing him to stop him while sam could barely stand?) - oh yeh n that was caused by asstiel too
Leviathans (apocalypse 3?) - its borax & black goo spatter into purgatory - & also caused by asstiel n sam n dean had to stand him up
Metatron & Angel fall at end of s8? - oh yeah, ALSO caused by asstiel and dean's emotional abuse pushing sam to "atone" - apocalypse 4?
Gadreel&metatron n angels war - caused by DEAN, casstiel n oh yeah deano going off n getting moc rather than face consequences of his facilitating a rape on his little brother.... n only ended by those entities' own self destructive tendencies (gadreel) & Naomi ..apocalypse 5?
Demon dean n moc-dean - dean's dumbassery caused it n sam ended 1xapocalyose (apocalypse 5) by agreeing to die at dean's hand n having dean banished as there was no cure -
BUT last minute there WAS a cure ( thanks to SAM working away n recruiting people to work on one despite all being against him) n dean was freed from the moc,saving the world - yet again...
Apocalypse 6 aka the darkness - n yes here sam indeed started another apocalypse when he released the darkness to save dean - copyright winchester-brother stupidity and also because through s7-9 dean has been berating sam relentlessly n needs sam to prove how much he truly "wurves dean" lbr... sam obliged unknowingly n released the darkness
n in alpha/omega n soul bomb holder dean DID TRY to save the world - but ACTUALLY wasn't necessary (& remember how throughout the season, he "couldn't kill the darkness") n basically returned as is...but uh with his mom...so pretty useless in terms of world-saving tbh imo...
Bmol - sam saved...the USA - not necessarily the world - as they still exist in the UK still at end of that season...
S13 - "oh look, we're running out of ideas,let's recycle: lucifer is out again" - casstiels fault n yes, dean makes another dumb deal and its SAM that hands him the blade to kill lucifer in that laughable cringey "battle royale" n then he promptly becomes the cause of yet another apocalypse as Michael!dean
S13-S14 - jack n chuck villain-arc - jack being born is not a world-ender in n of itself but it's sam that advocates for raising the all-powerful nephilim, Jack, with some decent values - batterred-wife though he is, by this stage.... but can we just agree that jack wasn't posing any threats to the world until he became soul-less n even then he's overcome with guilt n runs away n then is remorsefulonce hes got soul back? ... so no world-ending here..... until dean's stupidity (lets put jack in a box!) once again meant a powerful force aka jack here, was angry n unleashed upon the world - & then who went n got chuck to create a god-killer gun although, still no crushing the world agenda from jack still? - yeah u-know-who .... n who's so outta control that he wants to use jack as a soul-bomb to destroy God aka chuck - which IS a world-emding event potentially? - yep that'd be dumbass-dean...n who talks him off that ledge n saves the world potentially from THAT maybe-apocalypse? - that's right it's SAM!.... & who shot God/chuck? - SAM!...
S15 - chuck as final villain - who noticed n came up with the plan to have jack absorb chucks powers n effectively install a new god?? - SAM! ....
...so, WHEN & WHERE EXACTLY did DEAN 'save the world'?.... I want receipts!...
(no seriously tho, I'm happy to hear examples of dean saving the world for real)
#anti dean winchester#supernatural#sam winchester#spn#Tell me exactly where n when does dean âsave the worldâ that he got thanked by Charlie (& others)for?#my original post#N I discovered that there's a limit of 30xgifs per post lol đ đ đ€Ł#I may have gotten sequence of seasons a bit stuffed up here n there but think I covered all the big "world-enders'? - pls add more if missi#Took me ages to find gifs - some not the best apologies but it gets idea across#Thx for reading
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I completely agree, Vaggie and Charlie are really each other's antithesis and it's executed BADLY. The show doesn't do anything meaningful with their differences, if anything, it makes it starker. Their communication is terrible, they are not at all in sync with each other's needs and the only time they ever got actual development was when they separated to seek help for the battle with the exorcist, in which, they had more chemistry with their respective mentors than they ever had with each other (I honestly ship Vaggie and Carmilla a little after their spar, like come on, one time Carmilla lets her hair down, an act of vulnerability in some cultures, was with Vaggie and Vaggie also got her wings back after that fight too. Not to mention, they had a whole ass song together despite not meeting yet before the Chaggie song and has plus points for being original unlike Chaggie's song so Vamilla/Battleangel is a decent ship for me.)
Vaggie may say that she'll do anything for Charlie but she sure as hell won't let Charlie sing and have a deal with the same guy she had a deal back in episode 1. She also seems to forgot that her girlfriend is a grown-ass woman who can thrive on without her while she can't because she thinks she's worth nothing without Charlie. It's sad, really.
I'm honestly curious on what you'd discuss further on how Vaggie would have never let Charlie in but Charlie didn't think to knock, can you please share?
Ngl, while it's not an s-tier ship for me because I do adore zestmilla, battle angel is indeed an underrated pairing and tbh? At the very least Vaggie deserved to have an obsessive lesbian crush on Carmilla. I know it was allegedly planned for her to have an obsession with weapons and it got cut for time or other reasons. Whatever, more stripping of Vaggie's character and turning her into a bland nonentity so she doesn't compete for attention with literally everyone else.
As for your question; I would like to refer back to Charlie's rant at Alastor during their cannibal town date. No I will not be taking arguments on that, that's precisely what it was.
"Three years, three YEARS I've been sharing my life with her and I tell her EVERYTHING! My hopes, my dreams, my insecurities, my embarrassing habits, what fucking DEODORANT I like! And she keeps something, like THIS from ME! Why would she lie for so long? Did she think I wouldn't accept her? What about me, ME, says un-understanding?"
And if you watch her body language during this whole rant it's less emotional hurt and more... ego hurt? Like, this whole upset has gone from "the person I love and trust more than anything has been lying to me about who they are," to, "I share everything about myself with her and should have been entitled to this information."
And yeah, I get it, she was made to look incredibly stupid in front of a heavenly council right before being blasted back to Hell with an entire exorcist army aimed right at her front door. Anyone might be justifiably upset that such important info was kept from them. But as Carmilla literally says not ten minutes later, "You have a giant X over your eye and wield an angelic spear, it's not rocket science."
So Carmilla was able to take literally ONE look at Vaggie and clock her origins? Going further, depending on how you interpret Lucifer's gaze in Dad Beat Dad upon meeting Vaggie it's entirely possible HE clocked her as angelic too. And yet, the person who spends the most time around her somehow couldn't connect those dots? Charlie's optimistic but she's not dumb. She's got a naive understanding of sinners and how best to incite change but to miss something like THAT? I don't buy that Vaggie would have been able to keep that secret so easily if Charlie had been paying as much attention to her partner as any good and healthy relationship should.
But let's backtrack a bit. The notion that Vaggie's off emotionally is established all the way back in episode 3. Remember when Charlie's trying to get the others psyched about trust exercises and Vaggie shows a considerable lack of enthusiasm? What was the first thing out of Charlie's mouth after that? Is it, "hey you seem like you've got something on your mind; are you okay?"
Nope! It's a very embarrassed/annoyed, "Vaggie, we rehearsed this!"
After which she proceeds to blindside Vaggie with the news that she's the one who's going to be leading the trust unit that day. Wow, for all they rehearsed this pitch Vaggie sure seems left out of the loop on it doesn't she? When Vaggie tries to explain without explaining that she's neither qualified nor comfortable about this decision does Charlie say, "well okay then, but if you change your mind just let me know,"? Wrong again! She just says, "It's easy I'm sure you can handle this."
And again, Vaggie is both unprepared and uncomfortable and also unable to say no to Charlie so she defaults into her military training and starts speaking to them like a commanding officer would to their troops. And I don't blame her for that, we tend to fall back on emulating behavior we've seen when we don't know how to cope with something. When trust falls don't work, Charlie tries to retake control but Vaggie puts on a brave face and says she has it when she clearly doesn't. As chaotic shenanigans ensue Vaggie grows more and more desperate but somehow it isn't until she's literally chucking people off a roof that Charlie figures this has gone too far. Not to mention she's incredibly surprised that COMBAT is how Vaggie learned to trust people. Forgive me if I'm wrong but you've been her partner for three years by later admission and you DIDNT know she came from a military background?
Not to mention Vaggie spells it all out in black and white, "I took charge today and it all went sideways. I'm supposed to make your dreams a reality. I'm supposed to protect you. I'm supposed to never fail you" followed by, "If I can't help you, what's the point of me?"
Vaggie has serious issues with self worth, demonstrated here. And while I get Charlie is trying to respect boundaries to a certain point I cannot imagine that were I in her shoes I would leave my partner thinking that if they couldn't be useful they shouldn't be with me. And while to her credit Charlie does apologize, it feels a little pointless when the very next episode she's back to just ignoring what Vaggie says. Even then, that apology doesn't do much to address the real root of the issue. They work as a team? When and where is that EVER demonstrated? It's not a reassurance that Vaggie doesn't NEED to have some demonstrable use for Charlie to want to be with her. And even if it was Vaggie has already struck at the heart of their problem; she wants to be Charlie's armor AND her partner, but those positions cannot work in tandem. Because wanting to be someone's armor assumes they need protecting, and again I state, Charlie is a grown ass woman and one of the most powerful beings in all of hell. She was smart enough to avoid making a deal with Alastor in the pilot, why does Vaggie assume that Charlie NEEDS protecting? And a partner infers a level of equality that just isn't demonstrated in what we see of their relationship. There is no give and take with them supporting each other equally. It's vaggie either trying to draw blood from a stone to meet Charlie's unrealistic expectations, or Vaggie telling Charlie to alter core elements of her personality to appease her own subjects. And on the flip side; where does Charlie support Vaggie in anything resembling the way Vaggie supports Charlie?
Charlie pushed for Vaggie to come to Heaven with her because that was what SHE wanted. Even when Vaggie expressed her reluctance to go Charlie pushed and Vaggie folded even as she knew what ended up happening was a very real possibility. Why?
For all his bloodthirsty nature Alastor knows the political game way better than Vaggie does. Vaggie couldn't keep her shit together when Emily was just holding Charlie's hands and being friendly. That's not the type of partner a political figure should have, and whether she likes it or not as princess of hell Charlie's interwoven with the politics of hell. Being power hungry means Alastor has the genuine best advice for Charlie when it comes to handling bigwigs like the angels. And he's someone with an actual business interest in the hotel. Imagine someone asking him why he helps when he doesn't believe in redemption; and he tells them it's because he believes in Charlie. You don't hand someone the source of most of your power so easily if you do not have a sincere and earnest level of trust in them. And yet Al does it willingly, more than once.
I want to say that I don't hate Charlie or Vaggie. I just don't think they work well as a pairing because Vaggie gives too much and Charlie's more concerned with her people than her partner. And the lack of communication between the two of them is a real issue. Again, Vaggie might never have let Charlie in, but Charlie never thought to knock. She never thought to ask about Vaggie in any way that would suggest the sort of deep emotional love that the show so desperately wants us to believe they have.
And on some level, I think a good portion of the fandom feels it too. Seriously, run the numbers some time on just AO3; filter for the Chaggie tag, and then take out every other ship that those stories are actually about. The chaggie tag is filled with stories that are about someone else's relationship because beneath the surface there's nothing there.
#charlastor#radiobelle#hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#alastor#dream replies#character analysis#not tagging the ship because I don't feel like getting harassed today#but seriously
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REAPER HCS AND MY CHARACTER SHEAT
Design1
redesign!!
â° Prefers being called Reaper, not Death
â° Intersex, genderfluid, bi, demiro/ce (any pronous but is moslty user to he)
â° His mental health is getting better <33
â° Can have tree sets of wings
â° Uses big, big words
â° Has an echo in his voice when he speaks
â° He is quite a cheerful skeleton now... There was a period when his character was dominated by pessimism and analytical thinking, but after meeting Tori and then Geno, it changed completely
â° Now, he sometimes makes fun of other Gods, and how funny they act, gossips about them a bit too
â° From the Gods he's probably the least liked because of how different his views are from theirs
â° He is addicted to caffeine in any form due to his exhausting job
â° For a longest time he complained and disliked mortals...he thought they were downright funny because of the way they chased life. He only appreciated them when he met Toriel and his job became a little easier by skirting the rules and saving mortals without others knowledge. Then he saw how curious they were and how funny they behaved.
â° He is the type of character who does not know their traditions, behaviors, etc. He just had to learn what hugs and kisses are, why people eat, etc
â° He's literally emo. He's the type of character who has emo music on his headphones 24/7.Well, he's just addicted to emo, rock, grunge, even metal music (etc). But he likes to listen to music that is kinda softer like Artic Monkeys at times
â° When he cries or is accompanied by strong negative emotions, the space near him is filled with a strange aura... it causes people nearby to feel sadness and despair
â° When a person really desperately wants to die, he is able to hear their pleases in his head
â° His Gaster Blasters are more like pets for him (besides, they defend the gates of the Underworld (like Cerberus)
â° Since he learned what sleep is, he often uses it as a weapon against Gaster's complaints about him leaving his job without a reason
â° He often hums old and scary lullabies when he works
â° Suprisingly, he's a quite sensitive person sometimes
â° Big fucking boomer sjdb
â° Brotherly relationship with Ink (Ink's like an lil bro to him :3)
â° Sees Frisk from his AU as his lil sibling/child
â° Can change shapes (I think it's canon) and his fav shapes are: crow, raven and a black cat
â° likes shiny things (cuz yk... Crows likes them sjdbfb)
â° So (wet) cat coded tbh. .. But much more bird coded
I think thats... All for now??
I hope you like them >:DD
#cas says stuffies#cas draws#utmv#undertale au#reaper sans#reapertale#Head canons#undertale#My important work
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Tal Mitnick, an 18 years old Israeli that refused to serve in the military:
It's not just a couple of soldiers that are bad soldiers or that enact violent occupation on Palestinians, it's actually a whole system of violence. Of pulling people into the army and making them work for the occupation and for oppressing Palestinians.
Militarism in Israel is very entrenched in society. And the military is some golden goose that you're not allowed to touch. You're allowed to criticize the government, you're allowed to go out for gay rights, for women's rights. But when it comes to criticizing military action against Palestinians or other oppressed communities, this is totally out of the norm. You cannot speak against the military because it's so entrenched in society.
A lot of conversations start with the military, and because most people did serve, it's seen as this kind of thing that everyone needs to pass in order to become an Israeli.
So. Yeah. When you're older you don't feel ostracized as much because after a while it's less relevant to daily life. At least in my experience, I didn't serve and it's not really talked about much at this point.
In Jewish Israeli society, the military is trusted more than most other institutions. Tbh, more than any other institution I can think of. And it's seen as a right of passage. Some people will be okay with you if you volunteer for a social service instead - work at hospitals, schools, etc. Others think you shouldn't get the choice, and unless there's a medical issue you should be going to the military.
The narrative of self defense is absolutely believed, so by refusing to serve, those kids are seen as saying "I will enjoy the sacrifice made by others, but I will not contribute myself." It's seen as ungrateful. But that's if you don't express a moral objection to the military.
If you challenge the military itself, you're challenging Israeli society. And that's how it's taken. "I refuse to participate in the occupation" - "So you're saying I did something bad by serving. You're saying I'm a bad person." And when most of Israelis served in the military, and those that didn't serve often still support it or have loved ones that did or still do, this is challenging the moral character of pretty much all of us. Which, it should.
The military nurtures a mindset of dehumanization to a scary degree. I listened to a few interviews with stories from Breaking the Silence, an organization meant to bring to light the way the military abuses Palestinians, and there's something described by Yehuda Shaul.
He tells the story of serving in Hebron, in the West Bank, and he describes the daily stated mission of soldiers there.
While on patrol at night, they pick a random Palestinian house - explicitly one that they have no intelligence against, a civilian family - and they get in, wake the family up, separate men from women, search or something, get on the roof, jump to the next roof, get into that house, wake that family up, treat them the same way.
Again, at random. And he described two goals for this:
One, to create the feeling of being persecuted, and two, to make our presence felt.
They want Palestinians to feel beaten down and powerless, and they want them to feel that the military is everywhere, so they're too scared to resist.
This isn't random rogue soldiers, this is what the military does there on a normal day. And he said it's impossible to treat a population this way without seeing them as less human than we are.
I don't know if I can just say that the military is another tool for indoctrination in addition to everything else it does. But as a kid, I had a left-leaning friend from the Tel Aviv area, and we'd argue a lot. Because you don't need to be a full on leftist to disagree very strongly with a teenage settler. And as I was going through the process of changing my mind, I saw him going through the same process in the opposite direction - he became way more right wing during his military service. He told me the stories of why, and all those stories did was make me feel like I don't even know this person. I wonder sometimes how many young people go through the same.
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Connotations Of Sin - JHS (m)
Summary: At your lowest, youâve been living on the streets for the past couple of months. When you decide to leave your only safe haven and find yourself lost in a mysterious fog, an angel stretches out a hand of mercy. Little do you know, black taints his once alabaster wings.
Genre: Fallen Angel Au | Angst, fluff, smut (mdni), horror (V lowkey, I swear)
Word Count: 30k
Masterlist
Please read these warnings carefully!!
Warnings: Homelessness, Kidnapping (? is it though??), Suicidal ideation, referenced and described abuse and murder of a child. Hoseok is his own warning. Mc gets drugged and then she gets sick... A bit of religious babble, mc has nightmares (one of which is actually kinda bad...), she almost dies at one point. Hoseok likes playing mind games, but they aren't serious (Honestly debatable...). Implied gang activity and violence. Hoseok contradicts himself a lot, he's really confusing. Smut: oral ( m and f receiving) soft dom Hoseok, i think Hoseok has an oral fixation (or is it ME, the author?????) unprotected sex.
Notes: Phew, welcome!! SO, it's finally here!!! I'm so excited to share this project with you alll! It was such a big project for me, and so much time and effort went into it. Believe it or not, this started out as a smut piece and it had nothing going for it at all. If you've been following me for a while, you'd remember that back in 2021 i posted a teaser for something similar. Tbh back then probably wasn't the right time to post such a thing lmao, i for certain wasn't ready to write it and it wouldn't have been written in the way it was meant to with my writing style back then. It's been a long journey of understanding the characters portrayed here, and a lot of work to get them right. Very big shoutout to @hwaslayer who's - as always - been there with me from the very beginning and has been the biggest help and motivator, please look out for her Ateez's Seonghwa fic that shares this universe!! I won't keep you any longer, but please be sure to leave feedback, a lot of effort went into this project and i'd love to hear what you think and answer any questions! Happy reading!!!
âYou sure you donât wanna stay here with me dearie? I know it ainât much, but itâs better than being out in the elements.â Abigail takes your hands in hers, hands that â much like yours â are dirt stained and ruddy, but bring you comfort that you wouldnât find elsewhere. Abigail â or Toothy as everyone else calls her â is a frail woman with wispy auburn hair and a gap tooth smile. Her hair had gone white in some places, the crowsâ feet at her eyes can barely help you guess her age. Her eyes are blue and dull but still regard you warmly like she did when sheâd found you wandering along the fourth avenue weeks or so ago.
The space where she stays isnât much; a nook in an alleyway between two rundown buildings that people donât bother to go into. Sheâd tried her best to make it into a space thatâs comfortable enough, the roof made of termite bitten sheets of ply thatâs at least a square and a half wide. An old, mildew ridden tarp thrown over it and held down by a couple pieces of rubble from the building across makes up the walls that offer shelter from cold wind and rain and as much privacy you could get out here. The floor made of giant trash bags Abigail had swindled from some place or another, covered with old sheets thatâs definitely seen better days. Even though the sheets had long lost their softness and leave you itching, they kept your butt off the cold concrete.
Youâre going to miss the stories sheâd tell. Youâd lay on the floor, the longest part of the tarp folded over the top, and stare up at the strip of night sky between the buildings, twinkling with the bit of stars you can see and listen.
Sheâd tell you of her life before she fell to rock bottom, how grand everything was. How, many years ago, sheâd won the lottery by a stroke of luck, only to have it turn sour when her fiancĂ© gambled it all away and she lost everything. She never did tell you what happened to him.
Youâd miss walking the couple of miles to the river, armed with pieces of run-down bar soaps and plastic bags with the little clothes you owned in them bundled in your arms. Or the nights when itâs cold, youâd go down to the square with her and look around for things to burn and dump them into the steel barrel to keep warm.
There are days when thereâs nothing, and Abigail would distract you from your stomach trying to eat at itself with another one of her stories and old cans filled with steaming boiled rain water. There are days when youâd sit with a full tummy, thereâs usually one kind soul out there that takes pity on you both to offer as much as they could.
Youâll be forever grateful for Abigail, with her motherly affection and her warm hands. She never once asked how you ended up here too, she simply offered a hand when you needed it most.
You felt as though you lingered too long... this is the longest youâve stayed in a place. The company was good, but you feel like thereâs just so much youâre robbing Abigail of by staying with her. You know she would strongly disagree; sheâd probably whack you with her busted up sneaker and send you to sit in a corner until youâve apologized. Itâs simply how you feel, if youâre not here, Abigail wouldnât have to share the little of what she gets, you feel terrible enough that she gives you more than she keeps for herself.
âDonât worry Abigail.â You smile, pulling one hand away to pat hers. Her fingers are bony and long, and lacking the warmth they did earlier in the day. âI donât stay one place for too long.â
Itâs a lie, obviously. Youâd rather chew your leg off than go out there alone. Away from the safety this little nook had been for the past month, away from Abigail, whoâs cared more about you than anyone has in a while. But you care about her too, enough that youâd leave to make sure that she eats well enough to survive and not give it all to you. Sheâd be better off.
Abigail narrows her eyes at you, the wrinkles of her face deepening as she frowns. She looks sad, you note, the blue of her eyes dark and stormy, but she says nothing, just squeezes your hands for a while before letting go.
You smile softly, and continue stuffing your clothes into an old backpack Abigail had given you a while back. You fold the dirty ones tight, setting them at the bottom, and the few clean ones you had that still smelled like your last bar soap at the top. You donât have much, and youâve gotten used to it â as hard as it was.
When you shouldered your bag and stepped out from under the tarp, Abigail follows, worry on her brow, saying that sheâd walk you to the mouth of the alleyway.
âOh!â She says, turning back to duck under the tarp. You hear the rummaging of her old pot wares, the clanking of the metal before she comes back and holds out a can to you. The label looks worn, peeling off in some places, but you make out the bright red âcanned peachâ on the side. âI was savinâ this for when we go down to the river, but youâd better have it.â
âAbigail...â You sigh, guilt gnawing at your edges, âI canât take this.â
Abigail purses her lips, smacking the can into your hand, âYes, you can. Itâll hold you out for a little while.â
âThen what would you eat?â You outstretch your hand, offering the peaches back to her and she narrows her eyes at you.
âI can manage.â She says testily, and then sighs, softening, âAre you sure youâll be okay out there?â She takes the can and tucks it into the outside pocket of your bag, âItâll be rough ya know.â
âIâll be fine,â You say, and then, you hug her. Truly, youâll miss her. She pats your back gently, âThank you for everything.â
âDonât mention it, we gotta look out for each other out here.â Abigail smiles, pulling away. She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her baggy jeans, something sheâd picked up at a donation shelter a couple of days ago. Itâs got a few holes and itâs frayed at the ankles but sheâd never complain. âIf you fall into luck, donât forget me.â
âNever.â
You both say your goodbyes and you try your best to not cry at the sadness that clings to Abigailâs form as she hobbles back to her little nook. You take a breath and pick a direction to walk in.
You think about going to the river first, to get a little cleaned up before you go looking for somewhere to sleep for the night. Youâre already regretting leaving the comfort that Abigail provided. You know she wouldnât blame you if you turned right around and dragged yourself back. Youâve already made your mind up, though â itâs better this way.
You donât have a gauge on the time, but the sunâs getting quite low. It streaks the sky in orange and pink, hiding behind a fluffy white cloud as it makes its slow decent. You might be able to make it to the river and back before night falls completely if you hurry. So you walk, and walk, and itâs a long way past the street Abigail first found you, where the city meets a forest edge.
You once asked Abigail why she didnât live closer to the river, you worry about her most days, taking her frail self through the streets for such a long walk just to get here. Sheâd told you that even though some of your street dwelling comrades are friendly, most arenât, and would do the worst to get what they need. Itâs too risky to be close to the river where all manner of folk pass to get to it.
You tuck your bag to your front and keep an ear out for anyone that may be in the area. You grimace as the twigs and stones of the forest floor poke at your feet. Your shoes were on their last, they kept your feet warm most days, but theyâre biting holes into your last good pair of socks. The trees get sparse the further in you go, and over the tweeting and chittering of the forest critters, thereâs the sound of rushing water.
You break out of the trees and stand on the little edge where the forest pauses and the soft wet dirt begins. The river is a bit wild today, rushing through the rocks as it makes its way from wherever it starts. You know there must be a spring somewhere deeper if you follow the river back, but you donât have the time to as the setting sun makes the forest look darker already. You wouldnât like to be out here at night.
You slip out of your shoes and socks, wanting to keep them dry and walk down to the bank. Abigail has a little spot between three large boulders where she hides things. The spot is covered with leaves and sticks, and you dig through it to find the old blue bucket. Itâs missing itâs handle and turned over to keep things under it.
Thereâs a new pack of soap powder thatâs already been opened, a little square plastic bowl thatâs probably seen better days on a dish rack and half of a soap bar. You pull the bucket out of its hiding place, taking just a handful of the soap powder and tossing it into the bucket. You tuck the powder into a corner of the rock with the soap bar on top of it and carry the bucket over to the river.
You rummage through your bag to find the clothes that needed cleaning, and put them in the bucket with the soap. It takes a moment of scooping water from the river and pouring it into the bucket. All the while youâre wondering where Abigail scored the soap powder from. A lot of things are hard to come by, but some people make trades with the little theyâve got. You feel a little guilty as you watch the water and soap soak into your clothes, though you know she wouldnât mind if its you â youâre the only two that know where she keeps her stuff hidden â but still.
The soap smells sweet, and fresh in a way you havenât smelt in a while. With the sun long gone behind the trees but still lighting the sky a bit, you wash your clothes as quickly as you can. You throw the soapy water on the bank and not back in the river, and rinse your clothes out just as quick.
Thereâs no time to wait for them to dry, with the sun being as low as it is and the wind baring its teeth. So you wring them out and pull out the plastic handle bag you keep folded in one of your backpack pockets to stuff them into.
Itâs completely dark out once youâve put the bucket back and covered Abigailâs things again and made your way back out of the forest. You wouldâve liked to take a quick wash, but itâs too dark and the waterâs too cold now. Youâll come back tomorrow when the sunâs high and hot.
You walk in a different direction than the way you came, looking for the little park that Abigail mentioned once. Its completely dark by the time you get there, your feet aching from the long walk and your mind muddled with thoughts.
You would often remind yourself not to think too hard, as your thoughts would often lead you to a dark place you find difficult to crawl out of. You would often regret not having people close enough to call good friends, maybe then you wouldnât be out here.
You didnât have a difficult life; you grew up in a loving home with both parents making sure that you were happy and not too spoilt by the fruits of their labour. You know the value of things and you know well to act like your parents raised you with some sense. Your mother passed when you were ten, and your father remarried when you were sixteen. You couldnât understand why, your father loved your mother so much and you thought it would just be you and him against the world. You understood that your mother wouldnât want him to live the rest of his life overshadowed by her passing and forget to continue living. So when he introduced you to the woman he met on a business trip, looking happier than he had in six years, you didnât have the heart to tell him that something was off.
Your mother had always taught you to see the good in people, to give them the benefit of a doubt. There was no mistaking the thinly veiled disgust in your step motherâs eyes when she would look at you. She was quite young, compared to your father, anyway, and as the years went by, he spoilt her. He gave her whatever she wanted when she wanted it as long as it made her happy and you could only watch from the sidelines.
Your father fell ill, and everything went downhill from there.
When he passed, your world shattered and crumbled, leaving you standing in the rubble grasping at the wisps of it slipping through your fingers. Things were okay, for a while, grieving the loss of your father and trying to move on and step without him. Then the news of his will came not long after he was buried.
Your father left everything for his wife, the house, his money, and as youâd found on the first night you were out here, the savings account your mother had set up for you.
You had nothing.
Youâd always kept to yourself growing up, and never let anyone closer than you would allow. You were home-schooled â all the way up to your tertiary education â and had no friends to speak of. Your parents never spoke of their family, all you knew and had were your mother and father.
Itâs been a while since then. A good long while. It was hard to adjust to having everything at the tip of your fingers to having it ripped away all at once.
The first week was hard. Youâd worked odd jobs here and there to keep your head above the water. Sleeping in a motel every night wasnât ideal, especially since you had to buy food and every thing else. The little money you had ran out quickly, even when you pawned the possessions you did own it wasnât enough.
Youâve had time to adjust since then. You met Abigail and things were as okay as they couldâve been considering. You remember, she had been pestering you about why you were pacing around on that bridge when she found you.
The deep rushing water below it had looked inviting â an easy way out. No one wouldâve missed you, anyway.
You take a breath in sharply, and it burns. Cold air fills your lungs with little pinpricks as night fully settles. You try not to think about anything more as you walk through the park.
It looks empty, large trees and neat grass fields and cobbled walkways. There are dark metal benches scattered about, a trickle of water you canât pinpoint coming from somewhere.
Youâd just stay here for tonight, and find somewhere you wouldnât be in trouble to stay at in the morning. Youâre pretty sure youâre breaking some law being who you are as you sit down on the bench. Itâs uncomfortable, the metal cold and biting, but youâd just have to deal for the night.
You dig through your backpack, pulling out the plastic bag with your damp clothes, a jacket thatâs still in good condition and the canned peach Abigail sent you off with.
You spread your clothes out on the back of the bench, and youâre hoping they dry properly even if the air feels a little damp.
With a soft sigh, you lift the circular pin on the lid of the can and pull. The peaches are cut into slices and swimming in a sweet juice, and with some guilt you pick a piece out. Itâs sweeter than anything youâve had in a while, and for a moment you feel like crying.
You feel tears burn your eyes and nose as you chew the fruit, washing it down with a sip of the juice that tastes slightly like the can. It wasnât long before it was all gone, your fingers sticky with the juice and you stare into the empty can with a frown. You wonder about Abigail and if sheâs okay right now.
Setting the can down near the foot of the bench thatâs bolted into the cobblestone path, you lay back. The sky is fairly clear, with a little smattering of wispy clouds floating by and stars that twinkle in the distance.
Drifting off slowly, you try to find a comfortable position to sleep in â though there isnât one with this metal bench. Your jacket thrown over you as a makeshift blanket.
Youâre not certain how long you sleep for, but when you wake, its to a tapping on your shoulder. The air is thick with something as you breathe in, and a lot damper than it was when youâd settled.
âMaâam.â A voice calls, prodding your shoulder again, âHello, miss?â
You open your eyes and your blood runs cold at the sight of the man in uniform standing above you. You sit up, excuses dancing at the tip of your tongue before you realised you could barely see past your nose.
The officer is holding a flashlight, the beam directed somewhere off to your right. A thick fog had settled while you slept, swirling way past the officerâs head.
âIâm sorry, but you canât sleep here. This is a private park.â His words arenât unkind, they come out gentle and a little pitying, as though he regrets having to do his job of keeping the riffraff out. He lets you gather your things, stuffing your still damp clothes back into your bag.
He takes a step back when you stand, âIf you need somewhere to stay, thereâs a shelter not far from here. Couple blocks that way.â He waves his flashlight behind you, towards the parkâs exit, âCanât miss it.â
You could barely see the guy, much less which way exactly heâs directing you to. You turn, squinting at the way you think he pointed. âThank you... Iâm really sorry about ââ
âDonât worry about it...just keep walking straight and youâll find it.â
He motions with his flashlight again and you take two steps away before stopping and turning back, âSorry but...the fog...which way...â
The man is gone, no sign of him having been there in the first place. Itâs quiet, not even insects are chirping, you donât hear any retreating footsteps. You stare at the spot he was just in, but didnât want to linger lest he comes back and heâs decidedly less kind.
You hike your bag up on your shoulder, squinting to see through the fog as you walk towards the exit. The roads are empty, thereâs the soft clicking of the traffic lights and the glow of shop lights and street lamps that make it a little bit easier to see. You still look both ways before walking quickly across the street, keeping straight like the officer told you.
Itâs quiet, and honestly, it freaks you out a bit. You donât think itâs that late, and even so, there should be people out and about. You donât even think you slept for that long, it couldnât have been more than an hour. Thereâs no reason for no one to be around, then again, you donât know this area very well.
You walk for some time, the sound of your footsteps and your steady breaths your only company. Youâre keeping your eyes peeled for any sign of the shelter, staring up at the glowing signs and squinting to see through the fog. You passed a convenience store, a pharmacy and a pet shop, all closed and dark inside. Youâve crossed two roads so far; it shouldnât be much more walking...unless a couple of blocks have two different meanings between you and the officer.
You stop for a moment, taking a breath that settles heavy and damp in your chest. You look back the way you came, look at the signs of the buildings across the street and the one youâre outside of. You canât see much more than that unless you keep walking straight.
Youâre beginning to wonder if heâd only said so to get you out of the park. You take a couple of steps forward and then stop, looking over your shoulder. Your brows furrow and the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end.
Itâs said that the mind always knows when youâre being watched, a sixth sense to be aware when someone is staring at you.
You feel watched.
And it isnât an ordinary feeling.
It feels off, like some primal switch just flicked up in your brain. Briefly, you think that this is how a bunny feels being cornered by a fox. Your heart suddenly kicks against your ribs and something in the back of your mind screams for you to move.
You press forward, the feeling lingers, and intensifies. You walk as quickly as you can, your once steady breaths loud and harsh in the quietness of the night. You try not to look behind you as your ears pick up on the sound of another pair of footsteps. They match yours, and youâre not too certain if itâs just really your own bouncing off the walls of the buildings. When you stop, they stop, and start back up again when you start.
Thereâs another sound below it. Something snarls like a dog somewhere in the distance behind you, but, like everything else about this moment in this fog, it sounds wrong. Like itâs coming from a creature thatâs trying to mimic the sound of an animal.
You stop dead in your tracks, goosebumps rippling along your skin like a wave from the top of your head and downwards. You take a breath, and with one foot in front of the other â you sprint.
Your footfalls are loud in the quiet, and even through your panic you notice the change of the footsteps that mimicked yours. Thereâs two more with it that falls in rhythm, like a large beast running on all fours.
Itâs running faster than you are, the pounding of its feet against the pavement is double the speed of your own. You feel like your lungs are about to burst, your legs burning, and the damp air becomes fire in your throat when you breathe.
Whatever it is snarls again, and it sounds way closer than it was before. You could almost feel the sound rumble through you, and something hot fans at the back of your neck. You nearly trip, stumbling over your own feet in an attempt to run faster. You round a corner blindly, hoping to throw whatever it is off your trail and smack right into someone.
With your momentum, youâd think that you would send yourself and the person sprawling to the hard concrete. The terrified scream you let out rings in your own ears, high pitched and shrill, as you bounce back, falling in a heap. Thereâs a sharp twinge in your wrist as you brace, and a stinging in your palm when you just barely managed to catch yourself.
âShit!â the person exclaims â a man, if the deep timbre of his voice was anything to go by. âAre you okay?!â
The man crouches down and you scramble back, then remember that you crashed into him because you were running from something and the panic comes back.
âIâthereâs ... Somethingâs following me! It chased me all the way here...Itâsââ
âHey, hey...itâs okay...youâre fine.â The man seems to look behind you. You could barely see his face, even with him being as close as he was; the fog just seems to get thicker. âItâs just us out here...â
His voice suddenly seems hesitant, and you wouldnât blame him if he thought you were crazy.
You breathing is still erratic, heart still trying to pound its way out of your chest.
The manâs hands hover at your shoulders, and thereâs worry in his tone when he speaks again. âItâs okay. Youâre alright, nothingâs out here but us.â
He takes your hand â the one thatâs not holding your weight â and presses it to his chest. You almost jump out of your skin at the contact, but his own heart is steady, beating a slow rhythm against his sternum. âBreathe with me.â
He takes a deep breath in, and you feel his chest expand as his lungs fill, you try your best. Your throat is burning, and every breath feels like fine glass is swirling at the back of your mouth. It takes a moment, but eventually, your breaths match his and the adrenaline seeps out with your every exhale.
Your brain finally registers the throbbing of your wrist and palm, and the ache in your sides.
âThere you go.â You can faintly make out the smile that spreads across the manâs face, heart shaped and pretty white teeth. âGood now?â
You nod, just barely, and he releases your hand. Thereâs a shuffling and the sound of a zipper and then heâs holding a bottle of water out to you. You eye it with some suspicion, and he picks up on it.
âItâs just water, promise.â He says, wiggling the bottle a little. âThe seal isnât cracked or anything.â
You take your weight off your palm, wincing at the hot flash of pain from the movement. You right yourself a little, taking the water from him with your uninjured hand and a soft thanks.
âOh...here...â he keeps the bottle steady in your hand with a palm under the bottom of it, and the other cracking the seal with a twist. He lifts the bottle to your lips and you take a sip, and then a gulp, âEasy, not too fast.â
The water is cool, and a blessing, you didnât realise how thirsty you were. When youâve drank at least half of the bottle, the man puts the cap back on and leaves it in your hold.
âWere you looking for something?â he asks gently, and you nod.
âThe homeless shelter...I think Iâm lost now, though.â
The man tilts his head, âThere arenât any shelters in this area...youâre on the wrong side of the city if thatâs what you were looking for.â
You stare at him for a moment, â...Oh.â The officer really did just say it, then. Youâre not sure what to say to the man and you glance around at the street thatâs still teeming with the thick fog.
Youâre not sure what to say to him, and instead, look around the street for any sign of the shelter even though heâd said there isnât one.
âI think the fogâs lifting...â The man mumbles. The fog is clearing; itâs easier to see further down the street and the man in front of you. He presses his palms against his knees and stands, looking around for a moment before looking down at you. âThere arenât any shelters around...but...I can help you. If you want, I live a bit that way, and Iâve got an extra room...â
This is a bad idea.
Heâs quite tall, on the lean side with long limbs. Heâs wearing a long black coat, and his black, suede shoes look just as expensive as the watch that peeks from the end of his sleeve at his wrist. The white tee shirt he wears looks a little billowy, like it would swallow his frame once he takes the coat off. He turns a little and you get to admire the sharp cut of his jaw and the elegant slope of his nose.
âI wonât hurt you or anything. I just want to help.â He says, turning back to you. His eyes are dark, but kind as he offers a hand to help you off the concrete. âIâm Hoseok.â
You take his hand, and thereâs nothing in the back of your mind telling you to get away. Nothing in his body language that shows ill intent, and you have to remind yourself that some people are simply kind.
He helps you to your feet and you thank him softly, giving him your name. His smile is soft as he nods, lips turned up slightly at the corners, eyes squinted just a bit.
âIf you donât want to, thatâs okay. Itâs a bit late, though, and youâd have to walk a long way to find the shelter...â Hoseok says softly.
Youâre still holding his hand, and the warmth of it grounds you. You honestly shouldnât, really, youâre smart enough to know you shouldnât follow random men promising kindness. He really looks like a good person, quietly waiting for your answer as he gives you chance to change your mind should you wish.
He doesnât rush you, and briefly you wonder if he doesnât have anything else to do. He was clearly going about his business before you tackled him, though that word should be used lightly considering youâre the one who ended up on the ground.
âOkay...thank you.â When you finally speak his smile broadens, showing pretty teeth and still holding your hand, he leads you in the direction he was coming from before. You feel a bit bad, turning his night on its head and probably inconveniencing him.
The fog is lighter now, the air not as thick with it as you follow along. Hoseok didnât talk much, not once mentioning your pitiful state of dress, or asking any questions. Youâre grateful, not many people would go out of their way to open their homes to someone without one.
The place he leads you to looks expensive and you feel out of place. The road winds and twists into a residential area with houses and three storey apartments. There are cars parked in driveways, neatly trimmed grass and hedges, a fence around every tree. Lampposts dot the sidewalk every thirty or so steps, casting their orange glows across every surface.
Across from there, the road veers off into a more commercial area, with fancier housing and shops and a tall, looming hotel. The streets are quiet, shops already closed for the night and you wonder what time it is. There doesnât seem to be anyone around, save for you and Hoseok making your way towards the hotel.
The doors slide open with a little mechanical whir, and you balk at the sheer size of the lobby alone. Light fixtures hang from the ceiling, bouncing their glows off of shiny surfaces. There are red and black lounge seats along a far wall, coffee tables of black tempered glass between them and the single seated chairs across. On the other side of the lobby is a little open cafe area, closed of course, with comfortable looking chairs tucked under tables.
There are two elevators, one of which you assume to be for staff. The reception area is a counter space of smooth looking white marble, though no one sits behind it.
Hoseok leads you to the elevator, pressing the button to call it down. Youâve let go of his hand now, as you take in the sight of the place. You wonder what anyone would think seeing someone like you in here. With your shabby clothes thatâs seen better days, your dirty sneakers and backpack that looks like itâs moments away from just splitting apart.
Thereâs no one to see you, as the elevator comes down and opens with a ding. You catch sight of your reflection in the elevator walls, and grimace, regretting not bracing the cold river earlier. You definitely look homeless, your last bath was exactly two days ago, you look grubby standing just a little bit behind Hoseok. Anyone who would see you now would definitely turn their nose up at you and outright ask what youâre doing in their pristine hotel. Though, there isnât much you can do to prevent that.
When the doors slide close you focus on the button panel, and next to it is a key card scanner and a button under it. The word penthouse is neatly labelled on the button in little black letters, and Hoseok fishes around his coat to pull out a key card. You blink, of course he lives in the penthouse.
The scanner beeps softly and Hoseok presses the button that glows a soft blue before the elevator lurches slight and ascends.
You fiddle nervously with your fingers in front of you, keeping your eyes on your shoes. Thereâs a shuffle and Hoseok turns to look at you, heâs smiling kindly again, something like pity woven into it and you feel a coil of shame twist in your chest.
âIâm sorry...â You say without much reason, glancing at him and then back down, âFor the trouble.â
âNo trouble.â Hoseok says softly, concern on his brow, his hand reaching out but stopping short, as though heâs not sure if he could touch you. Youâre surprised he even want to. Heck, youâre surprised heâs doing any of this at all. âReally.â
âDo you usually take in random homeless people?â You ask, and his chuckle is light and teasing.
âOnly the cute ones.â He says and then looks a little mortified, âSorry. Iâm kidding. Itâs just...you looked like you really needed help...so Iâm helping.â
âYouâre very kind.â You murmur and offer a smile.
He smiles back, not as brightly as his other ones, it curls his mouth less, doesnât quite reach his eyes. He nods, âI try to be.â
The elevator slows to a stop, doors sliding open to a little well-lit hallway. On the other end of the hall is a wide pane of glass that overlooks the city lights, twinkling in a dance of their own making, and an emergency exit sign jutting out of the wall. You follow Hoseok out of the elevator towards the door which he unlocks with a password â the beeps loud in the quiet â the door opens with a soft thunk and a beep and he lets you walk in first.
The lights are on, as though heâd only planned to be out for a moment. Youâre not too sure what to do with yourself now that youâre here, staring at Hoseokâs back unsurely as he takes his shoes off and tucks them neatly on a shoe rack.
He turns to face you, âI donât mean anything by this, so please donât misunderstand...â
You nod, waiting for him to continue.
He seems to weigh his words carefully, âDo you want to take a bath?â
You flush, yeah, you surely look grubby enough for him to ask that. Itâs warranted, so, youâre not upset that he asked. Youâd actually love to, when was the last time you took a bath that wasnât in the freezing river?
Still though, itâs embarrassing. So you nod silently, âThank you.â
âDonât worry about it.â He says, looking genuinely relieved. âYou can leave your stuff here and Iâll take care of everything.â
âOkay...â You step out of your shoes, nudging them in a corner before you take your bag off and set it down. The clothes you have are still damp, stuffed in a plastic bag somewhere in the depths of your tattered backpack and Hoseok doesnât give you a moment before heâs leading you through his home.
The chill of the grey tiled floor runs up your legs through your thin, threadbare socks. You donât have much time to look around, but youâre aware youâve passed an open space kitchen and living room, splashes of white, reds and black in the corner of your vision.
He lets you into the bathroom, âUse whatever you need. The towels and things are in the cabinet.â
You turn to face him, âI really canât thank you enough.â You say earnestly, and he waves you off, turning to leave and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.
âIâll bring you some clothes that you could use.â He says through the door, his voice muffled. You thank him again and his footsteps trail away.
You turn and glance around the bathroom, floor to ceiling glass panes makes up the furthest wall. Before it is a porcelain bathtub that could easily fit three people, on a raised platform of white stained marble, and that platform on another, creating a single step up in order to get into the tub. The colour of the platforms compliments the dark reflective marble floor. The undersides of the platforms are lined with what you assume must be LED lights, glowing a pale white along the bottom.
The same LEDs line the back of the large wall mounted mirror, giving it an ominous glow. Below the mirror is a dark granite sink with a faucet youâre not even sure how to turn on. The cabinet below the sink house only cleaning supplies, and you look around for the towel space.
The shower takes up nearly the whole wall itâs connected to, frosted glass and jets embedded into the wall. Â
You walk over to the shower and realise that was wall beside it sorts of curve and you let out a surprised sound when you walk the short way towards the back of it. The âcabinetâ is more of a little walk-in closet, thereâs a few fluffy looking bathrobes sorted by length and colour, and towels and washcloths stacked on shelves that match.
Under those are neat little space savers filled with bath oils and shower gels, sweet scented candles tucked into corners. Bar soaps and toilet paper on their own shelves at the bottom, unopened toothbrushes and what have you.
Thereâs enough room to turn full circle without bumping into anything if you step into it. But you look at your hands and decide to not touch anything until they're clean.
So you walk back out to the sink, frowning at the faucet with no visible way to turn it on; itâs just a sleek piece of metal that curves back into the basin. You look at it to and fro and wave your hand under it, startling slightly when water sprays from the faucet. You hold your hand away and it turns off after a moment. Now, your parents had money but it wasnât anything like this.
You canât imagine the cost of this place.
You find hand soap after peeking into the cabinet below the sink again, taking your time to thoroughly wash your hands clean. Itâs hard to see the dirt go down the drain against the dark granite, but youâre grateful. You inspect your hands once your done, and finally allow yourself to touch Hoseokâs things. You take a towel down from the shelf, the one thatâs at the top of the pile. Itâs a nice pale yellow, and near the bottom right corner is a little blue butterfly embroidered into the fabric. After a little debate with yourself, you pull the washcloth that matches from its pile.
You set the towel on the closed lid of the toilet, and strip out of your clothes. You fold them neatly and set them on the floor along with your socks, stuffing your underwear into the pocket of your jacket. You step into the shower and pull the door shut behind you.
You turn the knobs and adjust the water so thatâs it not too hot, and for a moment, you simply stand there. The water flows over your skin in rivulets, washing away the sweat and grime of the past two days. You try not to take too long, but made sure that youâre thoroughly scrubbed clean. You try not to use too much of Hoseokâs things, even though heâd told you to use whatever you needed.
Youâre not sure how long you were in there, how long you stood letting the water wash away your tears as well.
When you step out, steam billowing put behind you, you wiggle your toes into the fluffy cotton mat under you, wrapping the towel around your form. It feels nice to be clean, skin feeling a little raw from the hot water. You tiptoe to the door and ease it open, and it pushes lightly against a bundle of folded clothes on the ground. Next to it, a pair of warm looking house slippers that you shuffle into immediately after drying your feet.
The clothes: a dark grey long sleeve crew neck tee that hangs just a little off one shoulder, a pair of boxer shorts still in itâs wrapping, and long fleece lined sweatpants that you have to fold at your ankles.
Near the door is a towel rack where you hang the towel you used to dry, and after taking a breath, you step out of the bathroom.
You walk back the way Hoseok led you, and the air is prickled with the scent of freshly made food and it makes you wonder just how long you took in the bathroom.
The kitchen is a wide space, between the area that makes up the entrance hallway is a kitchen island, and much like everything else youâve seen, is a long, polished slab of dark marble. Thereâs a sink in the middle, sleek and silver and soft white light comes from the fixings above it. Across from that is a large refrigerator, an electric stove and more counter space. There are a few scattered appliances, a coffee maker and a small espresso machine tucked under a cupboard over them, and a blender with something or the other in it.
Hoseok stands with his back to you, he turns slightly, looking over his shoulder and startles.
âOh â shit.â He laughs softly, âHey, was your bath okay?â
âSorry...â You apologize for scaring him and he waves you off, turning to face you fully. He scans your form but thereâs nothing odd in the action, and he nods to himself at whatever he was looking for. âOh, yeah. My bath was okay, thank you.â
âDinnerâs ready if you...oh...â he glances to the side, back to you and then to whatever heâs got going on the stovetop. â...This might be too heavy for you right now...â He murmurs to himself, a hand scratching at the back of his neck. He looks sheepish, a little guilty about something he didnât consider.
âNo, itâs okay. Iâll eat whatever it is.â Youâre not about to make him waste his food, or be impolite.
âOkay, well.â He presses a button on the stove panel, turning to the island. Thereâs the sound of a drawer opening and he pulls out a kitchen towel, smiling at you. He nods his head to the right, where, tucked to the wall is a modest sized wooden table. Thereâre two plates of what heâs made already there, and tall glasses of water. âGo ahead.â
You walk over to the table, pulling out the chair to sit. Dinner is creamy mashed potatoes, a hearty portion of steamed mixed veggies and steak thatâs somehow done to your liking and already cut into pieces. Your mouth waters at the sight and it smells so good you could cry. Hoseok isnât finished at the island, so you busy yourself with folding the sleeves of your borrowed tee-shirt up and out of the way.
When he comes over he frowns a little, âYou didnât have to wait, dove.â He takes his seat opposite you, âPlease, eat.â
The random pet name flies over your head, not that you wouldâve been bothered by it had you been paying attention. Hoseok was kind enough to open his home to you, let you use his things and now heâs feeding you. He could call you whatever he likes.
You murmur a thank you and dig into your food. The sound you make when you take the first bite borders on erotic, but your gracious host doesnât seem to mind very much. Thereâs a pleased glint in his eyes and a small curl to his mouth as he watches you eat for a moment.
Youâre too hungry to be embarrassed by the intensity of his stare, but youâre mindful to not choke or look like you left your manners somewhere at your feet.
The food settles in your stomach, heavy but itâs a feeling you welcome. You could barely remember the last time you had a full meal. The bite you swallow brings the odd feeling of it slowing down behind your sternum, and you take a long drink of the cold water Hoseok had set out for you.
The man himself barely touched his own food, seemingly content to watch you scarf yours down. He has his chin propped in his hand, a small curl to the corner of his mouth and a glint of something in his eyes.
âThank you...for the food.â You stare at your plate, drizzled with gravy and whatâs left of your dinner. You canât meet his gaze and youâre not certain why, and the intensity of it is starting to gnaw on your senses.
âNo need for thanks, little dove.â Hoseok says, and thereâs a soft clink when he finally picks his fork up and it knocks against the round rim of the plate. âJust doing my good deed for the day.â
The pet name strikes you this time, no longer distracted by the delicious food and your rumbling tummy. The way it rolls off his tongue sends a shiver racing down your spine, one that was decidedly unpleasant. Thereâs something in his tone, the way he stares when you raise your eyes to meet his, something in his beautiful heart shaped smile.
The fine hairs at the back of your neck raises, and youâre back to feeling like a bunny in a foxâs burrow. It was the same feeling youâd gotten earlier in the strange fog; the primal sense that youâre no longer the apex.
Something like a bell jingles in the back of your mind and grows louder until its a wailing alarm.
You should leave. Thank him for being so kind and get as far away from him as possible.
The look in his eyes unnerves you, but itâs something you canât put a finger on. Just off the edge of his form something flutters, a shadow that shouldnât be there, but itâs gone so quickly you didnât have time to focus on it. The feeling intensifies; tugging, now.
You donât think heâs blinked.
A shudder runs through you, rippling along your skin like a shockwave and Hoseok is calling your name.
âAre you okay?â thereâs concern on his brow, his unoccupied hand raised in a wave as though heâs been trying to get your attention for a while. âDo you feel sick?â
âN... no. Iâm fine, thank you.â You try to smile, but youâre pretty certain it looks as strained as it feels. He was almost done eating, though heâs paused to asses you with furrowed brows. You feel like youâve missed something in the past minute.
âI asked if you wanted more food but you just blanked on me.â Hoseok sets his fork down and you feel like youâre losing your mind. The feeling from before is gone, and youâre not even certain if you felt it in the first place. Maybe youâre tired, or maybe the feeling of the comforts youâve missed for so long is messing with your head.
Hoseok looks perfectly normal, thereâs nothing flickering at his back or anything odd in his stare.
âAre you sure youâre okay?â
âIâm sure.â You donât feel certain, and if Hoseok noticed he didnât comment on it. You pick up the fork again, scraping up the little left of your food onto it quietly. You feel strange, as though the past two minutes moved by too quickly, or like they happened weeks ago and youâre struggling to cling to the details of them.
Hoseok is focused on his plate, and uncertainty at the hope that he keeps his eyes there blooms in your chest. Youâre not sure why.
Itâs awkwardly quiet for a couple moments, with Hoseok finishing his meal and you, playing with the folded ends of your borrowed tee-shirt. When he was done, he takes the plates and the empty glasses to the sink to clean them and you sit idly at the table.
Heâs drying his hands with a dark kitchen towel when heâs done, settling at the edge of the island and facing you. The overhead lights glow against his form, casting shadows along his visage that makes him look sharper; menacing. It clings to his hair like a depiction of something holy, making his dark hair look russet in the gleam.
You go to thank him again, even though heâd probably wave you off like heâs been doing the whole time, but the lights are too bright. The glow of the lights swells and flood your eyes, you squeeze them shut, trying to dispel the ache that comes with it. You turn your head and it feels like youâre neck deep in mud, it takes too much effort to do something so simple.
Panic wells in your chest, sending your heart kicking against your ribs harshly. You take a breath, well, you try, but it gets stuck somewhere in your throat and you choke on it.
Thereâs two Hoseoks when you peel your eyes open, and they neatly fold the towel they were using and put it down. For a minute, your vision settles, and the man leans against the island nonchalantly, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he watches you spiral.
âYou should try to calm down.â He says softly, and you hate the way you cling to the sound of his voice when itâs very clear whatâs happening.
âWh...â Your tongue feels heavy, and the words you try to say are slurred and unintelligible. You move to stand, trying to get away even when your limbs feel like thereâs a ball and chains at the ends of them. The world tilts on an axis, doubling as you make to your feet, youâre not sure if itâs leaning or you are.
Hoseok reaches you in a single step and a strangled sound escapes you. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you back into the chair. âDonât worry. Itâs nothing your body canât handle.â
You can barely hear him, your ears feel as though thereâs cotton in them, reducing his words to a muddled murmur. You canât feel the way his fingers curl into the hair at your nape, but you notice the shift as he tilts your heavy head back to look up at him.
Heâs smiling, you think. Pretty and heart shaped, all white teeth and sinister. And thereâs that feeling again, as he says something you canât hear, canât focus, your eyes are closing.
Thereâs something dark and broken that flickers against the light above his head and shadows that dance at his back.
When the morning came and you didnât wake, Hoseok wasnât too concerned. He watched over you as once was his duty to another, tucked you into the sheets and the blankets and let you sink into the warmth of them. He sits in a chair at your bedside, simply watching the rise and fall of your chest and the pinch of your brow as sweat beads upon it.
Your body is fighting hard to flush out what he put in, and he admits, he may have given you a bit too much of it. It wasnât his intention, but nothing can be done now but wait for you to come to.
When the afternoon comes and the first sign of your conscious shows in a weak attempt to rouse yourself, and a jumble of words that Hoseok deciphers with a well-trained ear it; was clear you werenât fully there yet. Your skin was too warm, eyes not nearly focused enough, barely looking at him, and then the contents of your stomach come in a rush of bile and acid.
Hoseok tends to you gently, patiently, taking you to the bath and settling you in a way so that you donât slip under and drown in your unconscious state. He cleans your mess, changes the bedding, puts you in a fresh set of clothes and lays you back to rest.
You stay asleep throughout the day, and Hoseok isnât too concerned.
Humans are such fragile, foolish things. To him, youâre a porcelain doll, pretty to stare at and admire if it sits on the top of a shelf behind a case. Take it out of that case and itâs so easily broken. Hoseok is like a child in a sandbox of his own creation with too much power in his fingers. If he isnât careful, he could shatter your form and lose you to the dunes.
The fear you felt the night before played you directly into his hands â never mind he had nothing to do with it â and Hoseok knows, you donât have to be inclined to feel the weight of his presence. Your mind knew that something wasnât quite right -- unconsciously or not --, and yet, you willingly followed.
Foolish.
Though, it was purely coincidental that you ran into him, he had been on his way to somewhere and wondering about the strangeness of the fog that rolled in out of nowhere. He hadnât missed the weird quiet and lack of people either, it hadnât been that late.
He doesnât know exactly what you were doing in it, running around the way you were like a mouse in a maze. Itâs something that sits at the back of his mind.
The morning of the second day brought no change; you were in and out of your drug induced sleep, and now, Hoseok was a little concerned.
::
âHow much did you give her?â
Thereâs a squeak of leather as Seungcheol crosses his arms, when itâs quiet for far too long he gives Hoseok a look.
âA little.â
Seungcheol leans over your sleeping form, raising a hand to rest against your forehead. Hoseok would think you were dead if it werenât for the steady rise and fall of your chest.
âIf it was a little, you wouldnât have called.â Seungcheol says, shaking his head, the dark waves of his hair brushing his eyelashes.
âWell, sheâs not dead.â
âDude.â Seungcheol looks a little disturbed, straightening to stare at Hoseok with a displeased furrow in his brow. âYou canât just â humans have limitations.â
âIâm aware, Cheol. Thank you.â Hoseok grumbles, and he ignores the raise of Seungcheolâs eyebrow and the clear disbelief in his eyes.
ââCourse you are.â He rolls his eyes and then sighs lowly, he turns back to you, placing his hand on your forehead again until the tension in your face fades. âDonât give her any more of that shit. She should wake up sometime today, maybe.â
Hoseok knows better than anyone the limitations of humans. Not that he acknowledges them, he hadnât the need to in a long time, but he should be careful at least.
Hoseok leads the way out of his guest bedroom with Seungcheol following and closing the door gently behind him. Walking to the kitchen he could feel his eyes burning into the back of his head.
Hoseok takes his time, fetching a glass from one of his cupboards and the whisky he keeps stashed away for his more stressful days. âSpit it out.â
Seungcheol braces his arms on the other side of the island, eyes dark. âHoseok. I normally donât care what you get up to; itâs not my business.â He says, looking somewhere to Hoseokâs right. âYou donât fuck around with humans. Whoâs the girl?â
Hoseok hums, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass with a contemplative stare. âStreet urchin. No one anyone would miss or bother to look for.â
âSo you just took her off the street?â Seungcheol frowns, but Hoseok could tell from the look in his eyes that he knows itâs not that simple.
âShe came willingly.â Hoseok corrects, taking a sip of the alcohol he could barely taste.
He sets the glass down on the island and pours the whisky to fill half. Seungcheol is quiet, and Hoseok hates it. It gives his mind a moment to wonder, to open a box heâs kept locked and chained.
On most days, Hoseok barely knows himself. He remembers what heâs supposed to be â what he was â and sometimes, that part of him rears its head to fight with what heâs become. Wings dipped in gold and divinity at the end of his fingertips battle endlessly with the shadows that encased him.
A memory of a time he held something as fragile as glass in his hands, broken before he could properly hold it by someone who was supposed to keep it safe. The ache of it burns like a rash that never goes away, always there, only hiding under his skin until it flares up again.
âJust... donât do anything stupid.â Seungcheol says after a while, watching Hoseok carefully.
âYou and your moral compass.â Hoseok shakes his head, and just like that, the golden light is bundled up tightly and pushed back into the corner where he long hid it.
Seungcheol heaves a sigh, shaking his head, picking up his bag he threw on the island counter when he got here.
âI need you to do something for me.â Hoseok says, watching the light shine through the glass in pretty crystal shapes. Thereâs a furrow of Seungcheolâs brows, but he tells Hoseok to continue with a raise of his chin. âKeep an eye out for a fog.â
âA fog? Why?â
âShe was in one the night before.â Hoseok sucks air in through his teeth, âand she wasnât alone.â
Seungcheol hums, âAlright.â
Hoseok drinks the last of the whisky in one go and waves a hand at Seungcheol, âYou can go now.â
âThank you, Cheol. Donât know what Iâd do without you.â Seungcheol grumbles and then raps his knuckles against the countertop. âIâll be over here for a few days, gotta sort some things out. Call if you need me.â
Hoseok watches him leave, stuffing his hands into his pocket as he walks back to the bedroom where you still lay asleep.
He sits on the chair, watching the rise and fall of your chest, every minute twitch of your facial features. Restlessness tugs at his limbs as the sun makes its descent western sky, spraying the dimming canvas in hues of lilac and peach.
Something in the back of his mind asks what exactly heâs doing. There was no reason â there wasnât a reason for him to take you in. A sprout of boredom, maybe, or something involuntary.
Hoseok stares out the window at the slowly darkening sky and the soft glimmer of early evening stars, until the sky is navy and darkness clings to the room.
Your mouth feels like someoneâs stuffed cotton in it, and your throat feels like sandpaper when you try to swallow.
You havenât opened your eyes, laying on what you presume is a bed, if the softness beneath you was anything to go by.
Thereâs not much that you remember, even as the fog in your mind clears little by little. You remember eating, you remember feeling strange like someone had shrunk you and shook you around in a jar of water. You remember the fear that quickened your heart and your breaths and Hoseok, standing above you like a malevolent God.
You remember the strangeness of his form, and even now your mind canât comprehend it. Youâre not even certain if what you saw was actually real and not an effect of whatever Hoseok had drugged you with.
Drugged.
He drugged you.
Your eyes open and the room is dark. The blankets are thick and heavy and they make you feel warm. Thereâs a window to your far left, curtains drawn back to show the city in all itâs glory.
Slowly, you sit up, pushing yourself upwards on arms that feel a little weak, and find â to your horror â the clothes you were wearing before arenât what youâre wearing now.
You take a breath before the panic could set in. You could feel it rolling under your skin like a rumble of thunder before rain, and you try your best to stay calm. You need to find a way out of here.
The apartment seems to be quiet as you slide your feet out of the bed and onto the floor. You barely register the chill of it when you stand, sock-less feet making it easier to sneak over to the door without making a sound. You donât know where Hoseok put your things, and you donât have time to go looking for them.
The door isnât locked, and doesnât make noise when you push it open slightly to peek out through the little gap you made. You recognise the hallway, the bathroom is two doors down on the other side, and opening the door a little more, you poke your head out tentatively.Â
You donât breathe as you listen, but itâs so quiet, so much so that your exhale seems too loud, and thereâs a soft ringing in your ears that set you on edge. Stepping outside the room, you contemplate your next course of action: You can bolt right for the door and get out, but risk making too much noise if Hoseok is indeed here. Or, you can slowly and quietly make your way over and slip out without cluing your kidnapper in on your escape.
Can it be called kidnapping if you were living on the streets?
The door seems miles away as you inch slowly towards the open kitchen and living room area. There are a few lights on, the same LED lighting strips run along the edge of the large pane windows and glows an ominous blue and the lights over the marble island had been dimmed. Both rooms seem empty and you couldnât be more thankful.
Like a mouse, you skitter across along the hallway space that divides the two, down the little platform at the entrance and take one more step towards the door.
The door that seems further back than it was a second ago.
The stretch of space that was just an armâs length away was now more than a hallwayâs length. You stand still and stare at it, reaching an arm out in case youâre suddenly tripping balls but your hand swipes through air and falls limply at your side.
You look behind you and the rooms and hallway are just as they were, and turning back, the door was right where it was before. You couldâve sworn there was a handle on it. You place your palm against the cool, smooth surface where the handle should be and in the face of your freedom thwarted, you pinch your thigh.
You must be dreaming. The pain flares and grounds you and you realise thereâs no explanation for this. Youâre wide awake. Still drugged then. But you feel fine. Thereâs no swirling vision or heavy limbs, your mouth doesnât feel like someone squeezed glue into it; youâre fine. This doesnât make sense.
You back away from the door and almost stumble against the raised ledge behind your heels. Steadying yourself with a hand against the wall, you turn, and immediately, notice the darkness of the hallway.
Your breath catches in your throat and your heart slams so harshly against your sternum it hurt. Thereâs that feeling again, it sends a shiver racing down your spine and scattering goosebumps along your skin. Youâre being watched. You are not the apex here.
You want to run, or curl up into a ball and hope the darkness hides you. Fear coils into your muscles and locks them tight, and youâre left standing still, eyes darting around trying to make sense of the shapes in the dark.
Thereâs a darkness that curls at the center of the space a few feet away from you, undulating and crashing in on itself in an uncoordinated dance of chaos. Itâs somehow darker than the darkness â stands out against it like white on black paint. It doesnât make sense to you, and it could simply be your mind turning against you and scaring you further.
It slowly floats towards you, wraps around you in a languid, bored way, like smoke, no longer as tangible as it seemed before. You donât feel itâs caress, but itâs cold, like youâd submerged yourself into a tub full of ice and water. You feel as though youâll pass out, like the black wisps of strange smoke is filling your lungs and carving its way through. Thereâs fear, which is yours, and something that isnât.
Something dark and lonely, desperate and afraid. Itâs sad, so sad that you feel like youâll drown in it, that tears would well in your eyes and squeeze your throat tight. Thereâs anger. It feels as though you can burn the world and revel in it.
The smoke snaps back and away from you, crumples on itself violently and then the lights are on, blinding you.
Hoseok is standing in front of you. Thereâs a mix of conflicted emotions on his face like he canât settle on one before the storm in his eyes calm.
Thereâs a tenseness to his brow, and he studies you quietly with a tilt of his head.
âYouâre awake.â
He takes one step forward and you take two back in turn. His eyes dart down to your feet and quickly back to your face, and draws the foot he put forward back to himself.
âI wonât hurt you.â
You scoff before you could help it, fear pushed slightly to the side as your anger rushes forward. âRight. Like Iâll believe that after you fucking drugged me.â
âLike I said, it was nothing your body couldnât handle.â Hoseok counters calmly, âIf I wanted to hurt you, youâd be dead.â
âThen why am I here? What do you want?â His threat didnât go unheard, it settles into your mind and buries itself underneath everything else youâre trying to absorb for you to freak out about later.
Hoseok smiles, and its bright in its visage, every bit of sweet and caring as you thought him to be. Dimples you havenât noticed before sinks into his laugh lines, and you think briefly, it makes him even more dangerous. He looks so harmless, as his smile blossoms and blooms into the heart shape you remember from the night before.
âJust you.â He says, eyes glinting with something youâve decided is more than a little crazy.
You take another step back and he remains in his spot. If youâre quick enough â just enough â you can make it to the door. You might be able to outrun him.
âYou can leave if you like.â He says, like he could tell what youâre thinking â or read your mind â and his smile fades, like a raincloud swelling and covering the warm rays of the sun. âCanât guarantee youâd get very far, so I advise against it.â
Youâre not sure if heâs being honest. Though, he looks pretty damn serious. He stares at you quietly, intensely, like heâs daring you to make that mistake. You hazard a look at the door behind you and the handle is still gone.
âWhat are you?â you ask, turning to face him and heâs directly in front of you. The startled squeak that leaves you makes him chuckle. Bending at his waist, Hoseok stares right into your eyes and you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest and take off running.
Bunny in a foxâs burrow.
âHm.â He hums, âNow youâre asking questions.â He straightens with a smile and steps aside, gesturing to the kitchen with a slight nod of his head. âIâll tell you eventually. For now though, you should eat.â
You stay rooted to your spot and decide that if he wants you to move, heâs going to have to move you himself. Heâs insane if he thinks youâd be eating anything he gives you.
âCome now, dove. Donât be that way.â He sighs, stares at you for a moment later before nodding. He turns on his heel and walks into the kitchen without you.
Thereâre the soft clangs of him moving things around, doing whatever heâs doing in there.
âYouâve been unconscious for two days, and youâve been sick. You shouldnât be standing.â You hear him say from the kitchen, and you think you could make another attempt at the door but the handle is still missing, so you have no choice but to go.
You eye him suspiciously when you enter, watching as he butters a piece of toast and puts it on a plate. He doesnât look at you as you hover unsurely at the dining table, watching the lights catch on the dark marble island counter.
âI wonât give you anything to drink. Get it yourself if youâre worried Iâd try something.â He says softly, and not unkind. Thereâs a shift in his tone and the way his body moves as he brings the plate over. You feel like the man who was standing in front of you a couple of minutes ago in the hallway had hidden himself away and the man youâd met on the street had crawled his way back to the surface.
He sets it down on the table and walks back around the island, opposite from where youâre standing, and out of the kitchen.
Youâve been here for two days â whatever heâd given you must have been strong as hell â trapped here with...him. Youâre certain you canât call him a man, heâs something more than that and you wonât know until he tells you. Most of the memory of the night you came here are blurry and frayed at the edges, making them impossible to cling to and analyse.
There was something strange in the moments before the drug kicked in and right before you passed out. Something strange about Hoseok, but you canât seem to recall it. Itâs like it happened years ago.
The inconsistencies of your memory leave you on edge, and you eye the two slices of perfectly buttered toast on the plate. Heâs given you something light enough that your stomach wonât be upset. As the thought comes to mind you faintly remember being sick at some point, but that too is fuzzy and you arenât sure if its real. At least now the change of clothes makes sense, though, it doesnât make you feel any better. He couldâve done anything to you while you were drugged and unconscious.
You wonder what he could possibly want with you. Why you, of all people? Youâre just a girl who had everything taken from her and thrown off the ladder, now at rock bottom fending for yourself. Thereâs nothing left of you that could be given.
You feel Hoseokâs presence before you see him, a sort of odd pressure in the back of your mind and your chest. He pokes his head into the room like heâs checking to see if youâd started eating or not and doesnât look surprised to see youâd left the toast untouched and youâre still standing.
âThe toast is fine, you know.â He says, and thereâs an understanding in his eyes when he looks at you. He knows you donât trust him, though, he doesnât seem too bothered by it. He sighs when you donât make a move and comes into the kitchen. He takes the same route as before, walking around the opposite side of the island â away from you â until heâs standing at the other side of table.
âOkay.â He says, picking up one of the toast slices, he bites into it and stares at you while he chews. âMake something yourself then.â
You blink, âHuh?â
âThe bread is in the fridge if you want. Thereâre oats if you prefer that instead. Stick to light things. Iâd rather not be cleaning up after you.â You donât understand him. In the short time youâve known him, heâs like a square thatâs trying to fit into a circle. The circle is too round to accommodate his sharp edges, but he somehow manages to get just half of the square through, even if the circle is struggling to contain it.
Not to mention the weird things thatâs happened within the half hour youâve been awake, things heâs yet to explain to you. Matter of fact, strange things has been happening since you left Abigail. The police officer, the fog, and whatever the hell was out there in it with you. Youâre not even sure if that was real either.
You feel like if you focus on it, youâll go crazy. So your mind does the only thing it can do to protect itself â pushes it away into a corner to mull over later along with everything else.
âIâd rather not.â You no longer feel the need to show him gratitude. You feel stupid, for one, why did you think trusting a random stranger would be a good thing?
Hoseok shrugs, dropping the half-eaten toast back onto the plate. He walks around you, close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end, that the warning bells are going crazy in your head again.
Itâs uncomfortable being this close. The reaction is visceral, unable to ignore and you wonder why you hadnât felt it the night before. Why youâd manage to follow him all the way here and not noticed. Maybe you had, briefly and in little moments that were small enough for you to brush them off.
You watch him watch you as he circles you like a vulture, âWhat are you?â
âWould you believe me if I said I was human?â He asks from behind you, and it feels like a terrible idea to have your back to him. He sounds amused, like this is nothing but a little game to him â just something to pass time while heâs bored.
As he rounds your right, your eyes meet the darkness of his. âYouâre not.â It would be strange if you still thought he was after everything thatâs happened already.
Hoseok hums, a twinkle lighting his eyes, âPerceptive, arenât we?â Thereâs something like pride in his voice but youâre not sure what itâs for, âWhat do you think I am?â
âYou expect me to guess correctly?â The difference in your height does nothing to stop you from glaring at him. He tilts his head at you, dark locks of his hair swaying against his forehead gently.
âNo.â Hoseok smiles, âBut itâll make things interesting. I like games; play along.â
A shiver runs down your spine at his tone and the darkness in his eyes. He takes a step away from you and it feels like you can finally take a breath. His movements are fluid as he pulls the dining chair out from below the table. He sits gracefully, propping his chin in his palm as he watches you expectantly.
âDo you want a hint?â He asks, smiling sweetly.
âWhy donât you just tell me?â Your voice was barely above a whisper. Youâre tired of whatever game heâs playing at, sick of the fear that keeps you standing still as he stares you down.
He stares at you like youâre a complex puzzle heâs trying to piece together. âI used to be an angel. Fallen from grace.â
Youâd laugh at the absurdity of his words, but he has that look again. He has that look that makes you believe him, and everything seems to click into place and make sense, even if you barely understand it at all.
âOkay.â You nod, and then take a seat. You focus on the gentle waves of his dark hair and not his eyes, âWhy am I here? Why canât I leave?â
âI didnât say you couldnât. You can if you want to. I said that I canât guarantee youâd get far; You werenât alone out in that fog.â
Youâd almost forgotten about that. Recent happenings had been enough to push it to the back of your mind. You knew you werenât losing your mind that night, something had definitely chased you and youâre positive it wasnât a regular animal.
âBut thatâs another topic.â Hoseok mumbles, more to himself than you, and it looks as though his thoughts strayed elsewhere for a moment before he focused. âYou should be thanking me.â He says, tilting his head to meet your gaze with a smile.
He couldnât be seriously wanting you to thank him. For what? Saving you? For all you know it couldâve been one of his tricks. Why would you thank him? He says that you could leave if you like â him messing with you since you woke up says otherwise. Heâs not actually giving you a choice. Youâre not going anywhere unless he lets you.
When you remain silent, he leans forward, pink tongue darting out to moisten his lips. âThereâs nothing for you out there, though.â
You know heâs right. But that doesnât justify what heâs doing. You assume he doesnât care, if you were him, you wouldnât feel the need to abide by law either.
Youâd never been much for fantasy stories, growing up you were well aware that they were just that â stories. Your parents werenât very religious, but youâd say grace before meals, pray before you go to sleep and when you woke up. Your parents would sometimes quote the bible when you were being naughty and every now and again youâd find yourself in a church for Sunday mas.
Your father used to say that the bible is a book of stories and lessons, and even if you arenât to abide strictly by it, you should at least heed it. Thereâs someone up above, watching always.
The angels in the bible were described differently than the man before you, you think. Can angels really do things so bad that it gets them casted out?
Did he do something bad that got him sent here like some wayward child sent off to boot camp?
Even if a part of you is ever doubtful, his existence proves the existence of a higher being and you have some choice words for them.
In the days that go by, you remain wary of Hoseok. You donât trust him, but you appreciate him letting you hover about him anytime he makes you something to eat. He makes everything from scratch and you wonder most of the time if itâs a skill he just has or was it something he had to hone on his own.
He barely bothers you, goes about his business, which really, entails him sitting in the living room and ignoring you.
Some days is another story entirely. You came to realise quickly that Hoseok is fond of games, usually at your expense. A shadow following you here, whispers that come from no where and bounces off the walls.
There are moments when you catch glimpses of something out of the corner of your eye â a figure lurking in the darkness, just beyond your line of sight. When you turn to look, thereâs nothing there, leaving you to wonder if it was ever really there at all. Youâve seen shit at the corner of your vision way too many times for it to be a coincidence. You try to brush them off as tricks of the mind, but deep down, you know itâs not that simple.
Hoseok is always there when it happens, some sort of mirth in his eyes like your suffering is amusing.
The feeling of being watched becomes a constant presence, a weight on your shoulders that you canât shake no matter how hard you try. Every time you turn around, you half expect to find Hoseok lurking in the shadows, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your discomfort.
For the first week itâs been this way, and when the second week started, heâd leave at one point during the day. Bored of you most likely, not that youâre complaining; at least he was no longer trying to send you crazy.
Heâd give you the same instruction he did the night be brought you, use anything you need with additions of âDonât cause troubleâ and âStay putâ. You always roll your eyes at that, the door remains the same; missing itâs handle. You couldnât leave even if you wanted to.
You would stand in the living room, which looks much like the rest of Hoseokâs penthouse apartment; sleek and dark. Thereâs a few accents of white and red, black leather couches and clear glass tables. A flat screen TV youâve never seen used mounted on the wall, a fluffy white rug covering the space between it and the couch. Youâve seen no other electronics besides that, nothing that you can use to contact anyone.
Heâd left you things to occupy your time â like youâre a child â books and puzzles and what have you. And you found that the TV works if you become bored of the other things.
Weirdly enough, thereâs people outside and below, unlike the night you came when it looked like a ghost town. You can see the glint of the sun bouncing off of shiny cars driving in and out of the hotelâs compound. Little people walking around as they go about their days, oblivious to your plight.
Sometimes you would hear someone out in the hallway beyond the door, like someone coming to clean and you would bang on the door and be as loud as you possibly could. Itâs like youâre a ghost. You asked him about that once, and he told you that he can mimic spaces, make it seems as though something is or isnât there.
Sometimes Hoseok would come back from his little excursions and be as normal as he could be. Heâd talk to you like he isnât holding you captive, ask you about what you did for the day as though thereâs a million and one things you could do while there. Youâd answer as to not be on the wrong side of him, even though itâs clear that he doesnât quite mind you not saying anything back. Heâd ask you what youâd like for dinner, and heâd eat with you.
On days like those it feels... normal. You feel comfortable and the nature of the situation escapes you. Like this had been your life for as long as you could remember. And sometimes you think, that maybe, if things were different. If perhaps he hadnât kidnapped you, âhelpingâ you or otherwise. Maybe if your life had gone a little differently and youâd met him under different circumstances...then maybe.
Sometimes on those days heâd sit quietly as you give him little pieces of you; telling him about your childhood and not so important things. Heâd clear the coffee table to put a puzzle together and ask you to help him with it.
Some days heâd come back and he wouldnât be in a good mood. Heâd stand and brood at the large windows looking out, lost in thought. On those days heâd look gone, vacant, as though whatever going on in his head was paramount to the reality around him. His eyes are sad then, and heâd be so quiet youâd forget heâs there. Heâd make dinner, and he would not eat.
On days like those, if you wake at night and venture out of your room, youâd find Hoseok as you did the night you first woke up. A swirling ball of shadows and smoke somewhere about, and the lights are always off. It scares the hell out of you every time. It reminds you of what he is, despite the nature of his existence, thereâs something very dark about him. He scares you mostly, even when heâs being nice, itâs unnerving. Youâd try to stay clear of him then.
Something in your mind had been made aware that he is beyond your understanding. Heâs stronger and faster than you, can do things that makes your brain grind to a halt trying to process. Sometimes it feels like heâs in your head, watching your every move and surveying your every thought. It scares you.
On days like those, the last thing you want to do is sleep.
Sleep evades you and when you do finally catch it, your dreams are wrought with nightmares of shadows and screams and blood. Sometimes Hoseok is there and heâs less kind than heâs ever been, and youâre lost in darkness and canât find your way out.
Sometimes itâs a man with red hair lurking at the corners of them, smiling and taunting you. You feel like you could never escape them, like your dreams lasts the entire night and leave you exhausted when you wake up.
The room you woke up in so long ago was yours; Hoseok stays clear of it and never enters without knocking. One day Hoseok had brought you clothes youâre certain costs more than your life, theyâre mostly comfort clothes as you have nowhere to be at no point in time. From sweaters to tee-shirts, lounge pants to bicycle shorts and an assortment of underwear that made you scowl at him.
That day you asked him just how long he was going to keep you captive â he didnât much like the use of that word, prefers âkeeping you safeâ. He told you about the mysterious animal that chased you in the fog, that he and a friend are looking into it and reminds you that you wouldnât get very far should you leave. You reminded him that heâs not letting you go anywhere.
You stare up at the ceiling, counting the swirling pattern from one corner to the next. Youâve lost count of them every time and youâve lost count on just how long youâve been here. Hoseok remains the same, fluctuating between rivalling the sun and being the moon that sometimes eclipse it.
Itâs the morning of yet another day, and you can hear Hoseok moving about already. Sometimes you wonder if he ever sleeps...does he need sleep? He eats...that much is for certain, so by any rate he functions partially human.
You sigh softly, getting out of bed and shuffling your feet to the house slippers Hoseok gave to you. Thereâs the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen, the sound of Hoseok moving about, and it sounds like heâs in a good mood if his humming is anything to go by.
You wash up for the morning and get changed before carrying yourself out to the kitchen.
Hoseok looks devastatingly domestic and the smile he directs at you is enough to send your mind haywire. These past few days has been confusing for you. Though the initial fear you felt for him was there, lately, itâs been less. Youâve found yourself missing him when he goes off to do whatever he does during the day and youâre excited when he comes back. Youâre chalking up the reason for that being that heâs the only person youâve been in contact with for possibly a month or two.
On some of the days where he would come back and be less than happy, and the lights go out like theyâre scheduled to and Hoseok is no longer tangible. When he hovers in a little ball of controlled chaos that blends into the darkness, you sit and wait. You wait until heâs there again and the lights are back on and he looks at you like youâre something heâs lost.
It confuses you as much as his smile that sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage in a dance that isnât out of fear. You actually canât remember when youâd stopped being afraid of him.
âIâm going out today.â
Your brows furrow, heâs never told you that heâs leaving before. He brings over a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and sliced fruit. A sealed carton of orange juice and a glass for you.
âOkay...?â
Hoseok smiles, âOkay.â
::
When lunch came around, youâre sitting at the island watching Hoseok prepare the ingredients for whatever heâs going to make.
You donât really feel the need to watch him as closely as you did when you first got here, now you simply do it because there isnât anything better to do.
He moves in the kitchen like itâs a dance, turning to and fro with a grace you could only hope to have.
Heâs already got something on the stove, some sort of sauce you think. It smells amazing and youâre looking forward to whatever it could be.
He looks a bit in his head, brows furrowed as he concentrated a little too hard to just be cutting an onion into crescent slices. He mutters something under his breath, turning to stir the contents in the pot before going back at the onion.
âHoseok?â You call softly as he sets the onion aside in a bowl and pulls something else onto the cutting board. For a moment youâre not sure if heâs heard you, with just the steady sound of the knife hitting the board, he hums, glancing at you. âCan I ask you something?â
âYes.â You can tell heâs in one of his moods, but heâs actively trying to be pleasant. He fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove and then turns the oven on to heat up. âWhat is it?â
His tone isnât harsh, just a tad bit impatient.
âIs cooking just something that you can do? Or did you have to learn?â
He turns, pauses, stares at you for a moment and then chuckles, âItâs a skill I acquired through a lot of trial and error. I had a long time to perfect it, though.â
âHow long are we talking?â Youâre a little intrigued, besides him telling you that heâs a fallen angel, he hasnât told you exactly how he became one or how long heâs been here.
He tilts his head and smiles gently in the way he does when heâs thinking if he should answer you honestly or not before shrugging, âLong enough.â
You sigh, âFine. Donât tell me. Youâre probably older than dirt anyway.â
A surprised laugh leaves him, high pitched and a little untamed. The sound is infectious and now youâre laughing too.
Happiness looks good on him, you wish he wore it often.
When it was about four in the afternoon, you hear the closing of Hoseokâs door and the sound of his footsteps walking up the hall.
Youâre curled up against the corner of the couch, tucked under a yellow blanket with a book in your hand. You smell him before you see him; the cologne heâs wearing reaching the room before he does.
He steps in and stands near the entrance, the end of his coat brushing against his shins while he secures a watch to his wrist. His hairâs grown longer since he brought you here, curling against his jaw and the bangs are long enough to almost hide his eyes if not for the middle part. The rings on his fingers catch the light of the sun, and he finally settles, a serious look on his face as he watches you for a moment.
He seems to be contemplating something, the muscle of his jaw tensing as he grinds his teeth. He lifts a hand and crooks a finger at you.
Unwrapping yourself from the blanket, you walk over to him. He doesnât say anything, but levels you with a look and guides you into the hallway with a hand at your back. âIâm leaving the door alone.â
The door is practically singing your freedom, the silver handle looks like a lighthouse at a stormy sea at night. Hoseok is looking down his nose at you when you finally tear your eyes away. His eyes narrow as though he can hear your thoughts and steps away from you.
âDonât go anywhere.â
And you didnât. You messed around with the TV, got bored, read another book, and decide to take a nap. Doing it all to ignore the door. You wouldnât get very far. You really donât want to know what Hoseok meant by that.
There isnât anywhere you can go, you have nothing to your name. You get three square meals, clean clothes and a bed to sleep in when night comes â you think about Abigail, you wonder if sheâs alright â youâd actually be quite dumb to go out there. Hoseok hasnât done much but mentally exhaust you, you arenât chained up in a dank room and being made to do things against your will. Itâs actually quite pleasant.
You shuffle to your room and crawl under the covers, suddenly too sleepy to keep your eyes open. You would usually take naps when thereâs nothing else for you to do, but youâre never this sleepy. Itâs like your body is demanding you close your eyes and pass out right now.
You open your eyes a couple of minutes later and realise you didnât know you fell asleep. Itâs dark out already.
You throw the covers back, scoot to the edge of the bed, and put your feet right into water. You look down at it confused â did you leave a tap on? Hoseok would probably throw you out a window for flooding his place. Or maybe heâll start up his silly mind games again and drive you nuts.
Youâre not too concerned about it, strangely enough, as you get up, the water soaks into the legs of your pants. Itâs high enough to lap against the middle of your shins and you curse softly, how could you forget to turn the tap off?
You swish through the water, reaching the door and pulling it open. The water is gone and youâre standing in the living room. Hoseok sits on the couch, one leg lapped over the other, bobbing idly as he turns the page of a thick book balanced on his thigh.
âHoseok.â You sigh, âStop it. Iâm not in the mood for your stupid games.â
He turns his head slowly to look at you, crooks a finger like he did at you earlier. You stomp over to him, not caring that you probably look rather childish doing so. When you stop in front of him, he gently puts the book aside and then wraps his fingers around your wrist.
Your pulse flutters and you pray that he canât feel it. A soft squeak leaving you as he tugs you to him, you fumble to catch yourself, trying not to trip over your feet and the carpet. Your hand lands beside his head, sinking into the leather, his eyes meet yours through his hair, and when he pulls you down, you follow without question.
He settles you in his lap, one hand gripping your waist and the other snaking upward to bury itself into your hair. He leans forward, nosing along the underside of your jaw and when the warmth of his tongue streaks against your pulse, a shiver races down your spine before you catch yourself. You push against his shoulder, âHoseok.â
His chuckle sounds dark to your ears, his grip on your waist tightens enough that you fear youâd bruise. His teeth drag against your earlobe and yours sink into your bottom lip. âDonât act like this isnât what you want.â
His words wrap around your head, burying themselves under your skin and makes home there. The hand in your hair slowly slides out of it, moving down until itâs wrapped around your throat. His thumb presses against your racing pulse, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. âYou want me to break you.â
Itâs a moment of bliss, warmth spreading through you before it instantly chills. Itâs all fun and games until heâs actually trying to choke you out. Your breaths come in shallow gasps as Hoseokâs grip tightens around your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. Panic surges through you, and for a moment, youâre certain youâll pass out from lack of oxygen.
Heâs going to kill you.
Desperate, you claw at his hands, trying to pry them away, but his strength overwhelms you. Your struggles intensify as you realize the danger youâre in.
He stands swiftly and lets you go, and you crash unceremoniously into the glass coffee table, nearly breaking your wrist trying to catch your weight. You cough and gasp, clutching at your throat that burns with every breath you take. Your eyes sting with tears as you scramble to put distance between you and him.
He watches you, amused, taking slow steps towards you. He laughs, the sound echoing off the walls and you realise â thereâs nowhere to run.
You look up at him, and youâre now facing the windows. The LEDs that line the perimeter of them are glowing a sinister red and theyâre the only source of light. Thereâs something slick under your palms, something you slide in as you try to get up. Inspecting it in the lighting does nothing, as it simply looks dark against your skin, but, thereâs no mistaking the scent of copper.
Gazing around, youâre sitting in a pool of blood. Hoseok is nowhere to be found. The pool stretches off like something was dragged through it, going out the living room and down the hall.
You follow it, against your better judgement. This is the worst trick heâs ever played.
Your pants stick to your skin uncomfortably, and you wipe your hands hurriedly against the front of them. It doesnât do much but spread the mess of blood around. The trail leads into your bedroom, and you stand outside the slightly ajar door with your heart pounding against your ribs.
Raising a hand, you push the door open, but plan to go no further than the threshold. The lights are on, dimly, it doesnât give you much vision, but you could see Hoseok standing over someone.
Itâs you, well...it was you. Youâre not sure if you could call that you anymore. Limbs twisted in unnatural angles, sharp ends of bone sticking out from your bruised skin.
You stumble backwards, slipping in the still wet trail of blood and falling against the door behind you. Tears blur your vision, you feel sick.
âYou see?â a voice whispers, echoing and bouncing around in your head. âThis is what will happen.â
Thereâs someone else here.
âHeâll kill you.â The voice snickers, crawling along your skin like poison ivy. âRun. Get out.â
You startle awake, gasping for air, searching your body for any sign of blood. The sun is almost setting, preparing to make its descent in the west and you dart out of bed. Your skin feels tight, like youâre too big for it and it makes you uncomfortable. Your breaths are harsh barely making it into your lungs before youâre forcing it out again.
You make for the door, yanking it open and running down the hall. You didnât stop to think, you just want out. You push the entrance door and it opens and you stumble out into the hallway you havenât seen in ages.
You run up to the elevator, the overhead floor indicator is blank. And the elevator doesnât budge when you push the button frantically. Hands caught in your hair you spin around, there must be a way.
The green exit sign glows like a beacon of hope. You trip over your feet getting to it, almost face planting on the expensive rug that lines the hallway. The door opens with a click and your footsteps echo in the stairwell as you take them two at a time to get as far away from this place as possible.
You donât stop until youâre three flights down, breath ragged and vision spotty. You lean against the wall to catch your breath, panting and wiping the sweat off your brow.
Thereâs a loud bang that echoes from somewhere below and you freeze. Taking careful steps you peek between the railings and see nothing.
It might be Hoseok.
Or, it could be someone else in the building and your only hope of getting out of here.
âHello? Is someone therââ Thereâs another loud bang, and you take a couple steps down the fourth flight and look over the railing again. A thick fog swirls just a floor below.
The hair on the back of your neck shoots up at the low growl that dances up the stairwell. You nearly go tumbling down it in your haste to turn around and go back up.
As you turn to go back up the third flight, the fog surrounds you and you stop as it becomes impossible to see. You grip tightly to the stair railing, tentatively stepping up â Youâre trying not to breathe too loudly.
Thereâs something scraping against the ground on the stairs below and your heart kicks. You step faster, at the same time trying not to trip and break your neck. Thereâs a low snarl and you bolt, taking the stair two at a time back up the way you came.
The floor vibrates beneath you as whatever it is gives chase. You make it up to the first landing, pulling the exit door open with a grunt. Youâre just about to step through when what feels like three hot butcher knives slices through your back. The force of it sends you pitching forward, smacking hard into the wall on the opposite side before you crumple against it.
You could barely feel it, youâre aware youâre hurt...you could feel the pulsing, open wounds at your back. Your mind is trying to process as you struggle to move, taking a breath aches as you push yourself upward and away from the wall just enough to turn. You donât manage much more than that, sliding down the wall until your butt hits the pretty red carpet.
The metal door of the emergency exit swings open harshly, banging loudly against the wall before it leans forward; one of the hinges broken. The thing that stands in the doorway looks like it crawled out of some deep, dark part of hell. Itâs standing on itâs hind legs before it drops forward, claws that look at least nine inches long scraping against the linoleum.
It looks like a giant dog, honestly. Itâs hard to tell when all you could focus on was that you could feel your heartbeat at your back, and the slick warmth soaking into your ruined sweater and pants. Shock maybe...or adrenaline, was keeping most of the pain at bay, youâre pretty sure youâd be dead otherwise right now.
With a guttural growl, the creature emerges, its form contorted and twisted, as if it were forged from the very essence of nightmares.
Its body is a grotesque fusion of twisted flesh and sinew, its skin a sickly shade of mottled grey, stretched taut over bulging muscles that ripple with every movement. Sharp spikes protrude from its spine, glinting menacingly in the dim light, while its black eyes burn with a fiery intensity that seems to pierce through your very soul.
The creature's mouth curls into a snarl, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth stained with blood. Its breath is a noxious cloud of decay and sulphur, filling the air with a suffocating stench that makes your stomach churn.
As it lurches forward on all fours, its movements are unnaturally fluid, each step sending tremors through the ground beneath you. Itâs trying to squeeze its way through the small space of the doorway, too big to pass through, and you could do nothing but watch.
Your vision goes hazy as you simply stare at the creature.
The adrenaline is fading and youâre starting to feel your wounds, but maybe if you could crawl towards the door...
At six pm on a Friday evening, Hoseok isnât at all surprised to see the line of people waiting to get into the club. Itâs still a long way to opening, but with the prestige of this place, again, he isnât surprised.
He was with Yoongi when he bought the place, watched him build it from the ground up. Watched his taste for the interior bounce around erratically until he settled, as the clientele flickered from the common club goer to people â if they had enough money â buying their way in.
Haegeum is on the high-end of the city, the type of place where youâd wonder if folks had enough money to burn just because. Yoongi doesnât discriminate and all are welcomed.
The queue is a mix of people: folks dressed to the nines just to step a foot in the place, those of which would most likely be sitting pretty in the VIP section. People just looking for a place to escape to for a while, teenagers holding tight to their fake Ids and clinging to their friends. They mingle in groups or alone, their chatter filling the air with a soft buzz of voices and hushed giggles.
Hoseok takes everything in with an air of nonchalance as he strolls by.
The bouncer at the heavy black door stands stoically, clipboard in hand for VIP clients. Hoseok breezes past him when he opens the door to let him in, stepping into the entrance foyer, illuminated by dim red lights. He walks down the hall, and down the dark metal staircase into the main floor of the club.
The above head white florescent lights do nothing to take away from the grandeur of the club, though, Hoseok likes it better when itâs late and the lights are off. The main floor is usually accented in lights of blue and red, casting shadows streaking along the sitting area. Embedded into the walls are velvet couches that flow with the design in a sort of snake like shape, a short-legged coffee table and single seated chairs dotted between every inward curve. Thereâs a wide enough walkway for two people walking side by side to pass, a partition of glass, and on the other side of it, black leather couches and even more glass coffee tables.
 The walls are interesting, and Hoseok thinks this because he doesnât know why Yoongi likes it so much. In large arched alcoves sits head statues of Greek gods of mortal tales, staring lifelessly into the distance, bathed in dark blue light. Between every two are columns that resembles those of a temple, and smooth grey stone. Hoseok honestly doesnât know which vibe Yoongi is going for, not that heâd say it to his face.
He walks down the little walkway, down another set of stairs and across the dance floor. The bar is tucked in a corner, glasses being wiped by one of Yoongiâs employees behind it. Hoseok offers the man a nod of his head, moving towards the staircase that curves with the wall and upwards.
Yoongiâs office veers just off the VIP lounge, set behind large mahogany doors. And Hoseok doesnât bother knocking. The room looks pretty much the same as itâs always had: dark walls with darker patterns, a maroon carpet lining the floor, abstract paintings hanging on the walls that allude to a darker nature, and in the far corner on the wall between two paintings is a golden blade dagger behind a mounted glass case.
â...Pick your side, kid. Itâs either youâre with me, or against me.â Yoongiâs voice is cold, not angry per se, but reeking in annoyance that chills rather than burns. âAnd trust me when I say that you donât want me as your enemy. I donât play nice.â
Thereâs a young man standing in front of Yoongiâs large desk, his hands behind his back where one hand squeezes the other in bouts of nervous jitter. There are bruises on his knuckles, and even from behind, Hoseok could tell that heâs trying to fit into a crowd that doesnât suit him. Haegeum isnât just a club but a base of operations so to speak, in the middle of this high-end city, its easy for Yoongi to wrack up a certain clientele. People who seek a different ease of mind and has a different lifestyle.
Hoseok leans against the door, watching the scene play out, as the young man bows slightly and Yoongi waves his hand at him.
âKeep shadowing Seonghwa and Hongjoong for the week, and I donât want any trouble this time.â He says dismissively, and the boy turns to leave. As Hoseok catches his eye, something akin to a bolt of lightening shoots down his spine. It isnât noticeable to the more ordinary folk, but Hoseok isnât ordinary, and neither are Yoongi and the rest of his boys.Â
The air crackles with static, raw, untrained power that itches Hoseok the wrong way. The boy stands there clearly a moment too long, and Yoongiâs knuckles raps against the table top. âYeonjun.â
Yeonjun gives a soft apology, and quickly walks towards the door. Hoseok opens it for him, not out of kindness, but purely to give him a long unbroken stare. He smiles as the boy struggles to hold his gaze, even as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end at his proximity.
When he shuts the door behind him, Yoongi is already watching him with a raised brow. Hoseok wanders over to the leather armchair at the front of Yoongiâs desk and sits, shifting around until heâs comfortable in it. âI thought they were a myth.â
âObviously theyâre not.â Yoongi mutters, shaking his head as he sieves through a stack of papers scattered on his desk before he finds what heâs looking for. âKid wanted in, so I let him. More trouble than itâs worth, honestly. But, the Nephilim are stronger than the order, so I gave it a shot.â
Hoseok hums, and Yoongi seems to catch himself, narrowing his eyes at him. The scar that runs through his right eye looks pink and irritated in the motion and the overhead lights. âWhat are you doing here?â
âWhat? I canât visit?â
If Yoongi narrows his eyes any more, heâd close them, âI think you know better than anyone that youâre never here.â He says, âYouâre absent more often than not, so I have the right to ask. Did you do something? Iâm not cleaning up any more of your messes.â
Yoongi pushes back his chair, walking across the room to the mini bar he has tucked in the corner. He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a glass of whisky from a long necked crystalline bottle. He takes a sip and turns leaning against the barâs edge. âLast time was enough trouble.â
âYouâd clean it up anyways.â Hoseok says, leaning his head back against the chair, tilting his head to look at Yoongi. âI found something fun to do.â
Yoongi stares at him for a moment, quiet, contemplative, âCausing a different type of trouble, I see.â He chuckles, âDonât break her.â
âWhereâs the fun in that?â Hoseok smirks, and then frowns a little. With all Yoongiâs prowess and danger, heâs gone a little soft around the edges, and he could see that softness in his eyes as he looks off into the distance. Surely thinking about the mortal girl that has him wrapped around her little fingers like bubble gum.
âYouâll learn.â Yoongi says cryptically, and it reminds Hoseok that heâs never really sure what Yoongi is thinking. Sometimes heâs an open book and Hoseok could read him like one, easy to figure out in the way that he moves, and sometimes heâs sealed tight.
Yoongi drains his glass of whisky, setting it down with a clink on the bar top before walking back over to his desk. âSince youâre here...â He opens a drawer and pulls out a thick black file, âGive this to Seonghwa.â
Hoseok takes the file and opens it, reading over the contents. Thereâs a man on Yoongiâs black list thatâs due a checking in. âYou let him and Joong have all the fun.â
âYouâre too messy.â Yoongi retorts, âI said Iâm not cleaning up after you.â
Hoseok shrugs, and gets up, skirting around the back of the chair and walking towards the door.
âHobi.â Yoongi calls, âI donât have to remind you that thereâs a meeting at the end of the month, right?â
âIâll be here.â Hoseok says, as the look in Yoongiâs eyes gave no room to say anything else.
He leaves the office, closing the door behind him with a quiet click and lets the tension roll off his shoulders. He goes back the way he came, black file in hand, towards the VIP section where he knows Seonghwa would be lurking. He walks down the little walkway, through the identical couches and tables on raised platforms that overlook the main floor of the club.
At the end, thereâs a small section of booths, black velvet and low lit, and standing with his back to him is Hongjoong. He seems to be busy, twin pistols in pieces on the boothâs table, cleaning supplies set up neatly in a little row. Hoseok saunters over, and throws his arm over the manâs shoulders.
Hongjoong doesnât spare him a glance but sighs softly through his nose. âIâm busy, Hoseok.â
âWhereâs your shadow?â Hoseok asks, and waves the file at him, âYoongi has work for you two.â
âWhen doesnât Yoongi have work for us.â Hongjoong slides away from under Hoseokâs arm, sitting down in the booth to avoid him all together. Thereâs a dull glint of light as the fixtures catch on the gold diamond studded crucifix that swings against the white of Hongjoongâs tee-shirt.
Hoseok clicks his tongue against his teeth, âDonât let him hear you say that.â
The dark bangs of his hair, which are usually styled away from his forehead, falls into his eyes when he glances upward at Hoseok. He picks up the cleaning solvent and pours a bit of it into the cap before dropping a cotton patch in to let it soak, then, he wraps the patch around the bristles of a small bore brush.
âSeonghwa isnât here, heâs out back.â Hongjoong picks up the dismantled gun barrel, sliding the bore brush through until the now dirty cotton patch pokes out from the other end. The scent of the solvent burns Hoseokâs nose, and he leaves Hongjoong be, going back down to the main floor and through the emergency exit. The exit sits in the middle of an alleyway that connects two streets, and Hoseok catches sight of Seonghwaâs faux fur coat on one end.
Smoke curls away from his form with a light wind and brings the scent of a cigarette as Hoseok walks with quiet steps towards him. Heâs laughing at something, phone in hand, and Hoseok drops his hand heavily on his shoulder and feels the way he immediately tenses.
âIâve told you one too many times, Seonghwa.â Hoseok says, stepping to the side and around him, âAlways be on your guard.â
Thereâs a glint in the way that he sneers, pulling away from Hoseokâs grip. He takes a couple steps back, watching Hoseok as though he spat at his feet.
âAw, donât look at me like that. Makes me all tingly.â Hoseok teases mockingly with a smile, and then offers the file to him. âHere.â
Seonghwa shoves his phone into the pocket of his coat, taking the file and looking through it. He takes one last drag of the cigarette between his fingers before tossing it. He raises a perfect brow at Hoseok and tilts his head, something like amusement in his eyes. âYou donât show up for weeks, and now youâre just Yoongiâs errand boy.â
Hoseok chuckles and itâs dark, low in his throat. âSeonghwa.â He takes a step closer, âDonât forget your place.â
Itâs irritating how Seonghwa doesnât back down, the way he looks at Hoseok as though heâs beneath him. He stands tall and proud with his chest puffed out like a peacock, and Hoseok knows heâs about to say something stupid without using that brain of his first.
âDonât act like weâre not in the same boat.â Seonghwa scoffs, and even before he opens his mouth, Hoseok could see the thought in his eyes, glowing like an ember in the dark. He sees the minute curl at the corner of his mouth and the glow of the street light that catches on the pretty studded silver of his teeth. âYou got your ward killed, and killed the man that killed her. Thereâs no hierarchy among murderers.â
Hoseok takes a breath, and he feels the heat rising from the tips of his toes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the images heâs locked away floods out of the steel box heâs put them in. The little girl heâd been guardian to, her short, miserable and painful life. Found end at the hands of someone she had the misfortune of being born to. It was too late â he was too late, when heâd found her. And just like then, Hoseok sees red.
Warm, gushing red that spill into the creases of his fingers when he swings his fist at Seonghwaâs face. The black file and the papers within scatter on the wind.
Hoseok doesnât let the surprise and force send the younger man stumbling back too far, and grabs hold of the front of his coat, curling his fingers into the material tightly. He kicks at his knee, and when heâs forced to kneel, Hoseok leans down to his height.
âYou talk a lot of shit for someone who lost his wings for something so trivial; your sin and mine are two different things.â Hoseok sneers, and heâs so mad he could set Seonghwa on fire and watch him dance. âBut I can remind you exactly why Yoongi doesnât bother to have me involved.â
Someone pulls Seonghwa back, dragging him up to his feet. âThe fuck are you two doing?â
Thereâs a tick in Seonghwaâs jaw that doesnât go unnoticed and his eyes stay locked with Hoseok as he straightens. He should think twice, Hoseok knows he knows better.
Hongjoong shoves at Seonghwaâs shoulder, âGo pick that shit up.â
Yeonjun stands at the open doorway of the emergency exit, watching with wide eyes, looking like heâs halfway to backing out on his choice to get into Yoongiâs ranks. Hongjoong eyes Hoseok warily, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Seonghwa was doing as told.
Hoseokâs gaze burns a hole into the back of Seonghwaâs head as he moves around to pick up the scattered papers while Hongjoong stands like a watchdog.
Hoseok shoves his hands into the pockets of his black coat, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. âYou boys be good, now.â He says in parting, turning on his heel and walking out of the alley.
âWhat the fuck did you say to him?...â
Hoseok walks up the street, through the throngs of people still waiting to get into Haegeum. His phone vibrates in his coat pocket, with a sigh he pulls it out and answers.
âYes, Cheol?â
âHey, remember when you asked me to tell you when Iâve seen that weird fog?â Seungcheol sounds distracted, thereâs a sharp sound from his end that has Hoseok pulling the phone away from his ear with a wince. He says something to someone else, voice too far away for Hoseok to catch, before he speaks again. âCouple of nights ago, it was in my area. Whateverâs in it is pretty good at hiding. Itâs not the only thing in it either.â
Hoseok crosses the street, going in the opposite direction of which he came from. The people that line the sidewalk give him a wide berth as he weaves through them; unconsciously reacting to him being near.
âDidnât see much of the guy, some twinky-looking redhead.â Cheol sighs, âI think the fog is like a domain. If you get lost in it, itâs like thereâs no-one in there but you. Like a mirror realm.â
âThey who fight monsters should be careful, lest they become a monster themselves. And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.â
What defines a monster? Something that goes beyond human comprehension, something that stands outside the bounds of what is morally accepted. Something that a person fails to understand and is therefore scared by. Something that make stories entertaining because theyâre meant to be defeated in the end. Theyâre meant to be slain and mounted like trophies, pinned up for grotesque display of heroism.
What defines a creature that goes beyond human comprehension? White coloured morals and the freedom to help in the way it needed. He stopped being what he was created to be, and instead became something that someone needed the most. He did everything right. He had his head in the right place, he was determined to see it through to the end.
He was a little too late.
Over the years, Hoseok could no longer recall just how late he was. If it was by seconds or minutes, or an hour by a half. When he was finally strong enough to move, he traced the memory of a place heâd seen for years, all the way to a house where his charge waited inside.
She was always afraid. Alone, trapped with a monster of manâs making. A child heâs watched since the moment of her birth, watched her grow to be afraid and the light never reach her. By the laws of his nature he was forced to do nothing.
He was restricted to assisting in the only way he could. He couldnât shield her physically, so he instead manipulated the monster in her closet. He made sure that his mind was changed, that he didnât swing his claws as fiercely, that he slept deeply so that the child can have a night of rest.
He started to question, as he watched the monster that called himself a father, prey upon what he was meant to protect.
Whatâs the point? Is he not allowed to stop this? Why canât he stop this? He could stop it because he has the power to do so.
The ideology was shared by another, and together, hubris.
Hoseok fell with pride; he fell with the intention to seek his ward out and help her. Even if he had no idea what was to come afterwards. Stripped of his grace and the feathers of his wings burned away, it didnât matter to him.
He went as quickly as his wounds allowed, which in retrospect, wasnât quickly enough. She was only six. An awfully short time to the likes of him, even shorter to mortals, not enough time to live and laugh â she wasnât allowed to even do that. Heâd stood there, in the broken doorway of a broken home and watched as the monster of his wardâs nightmare became a man before him. Hoseokâs vision had tunnelled and in the centre was the broken body of the child heâd sworn to protect.
When the shadows on the walls grew tall and Hoseokâs mind closed in on itself and allowed those shadows to encase him, the man cried. He pleaded on his knees at the sight of his reckoning, begged for mercy when he gave none.
Then, Hoseok shattered. Scattered like tiny specs of dust floating on the wind, and under the heat and pressure of his own realisations, he turned into glass. With his sharp edges he cut into the man and reveled in it. The sounds of his pleas like the gentle strum of a harpâs string, and the warmth of his blood was a bath Hoseok sunk into.
What he was, was something that was no longer needed, and with his hands covered in blood and gore and mess he held tight to his reasons for being and cried for her. He became something else that only protected himself. While he locked everything away and allowed the shadows to stay. The light heâs trapped struggles to glow, to breathe, and some days Hoseok wants to snuff it out for good, to become the shadows he plays in.
He wouldnât allow himself to reach that point, though. He still has a sense of himself, however skewed.
He owes Yoongi a lot, his partner in crime that he would follow to the ends of the earth. He never turned his back on him even as Hoseok changed to suit his troubles.
Hoseok remembers Yoongi standing at the doorway, catching up much later than he had. He stayed there quietly while Hoseok mourned the death of his ward and his tears made tracks in the blood that coated him.
Hoseok buried her away from her cursed home, far away and as deep as the roots of an old oak runs and salt floats on the air. Wild flowers bloom there, giving her the beauty in death she wasnât allowed in life.
His chest aches as he stands there now. Under the shade of the oak tree where little speckles of the setting orange sun spills through leaves and dances along the space that he occupies. Thereâs a crinkle of plastic and Hoseok stares at the small bouquet in his grip. He chose every flower that reminded him of her: daises and lavender, lilies and snapdragons.
He lays it gently on the patch of grass thatâs long grown over between two large protruding roots, mutters the same apology he does every time he comes by, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat as he straightens.
Heâs sorry he wasnât there in time.
He wished she was given a chance, and wondered if her death was his punishment. He wonders what it wouldâve been like to watch her grow, safe and happy. What her favourite flower wouldâve been, if she wouldâve valued the little things. He wouldâve given her everything â pulled the moon from the sky if she so desired it. He wouldâve taken the stars and put them in her little hands for her to watch them shine.
He wonders if it wouldâve been better had he waited a little longer. That maybe the slightest change wouldâve brought about a different outcome.
Hoseok sighs, turns his head to watch the sun set, dragged behind the oceanâs edge far off in the distance. Something at the back of his mind wiggles and tugs. He knows somethingâs wrong and heâs in no mood to deal with it.
Youâre dying...you think. Your hand slides against the floor and it takes a moment to realise itâs your blood youâre slipping in. You can barely feel the rest of your body, adrenaline pumping your blood out of the wounds at your back. The doors of the elevator doubles and swarms in your vision.
You see them open but itâs so hard to focus. Hoseok steps out and walks slowly to you, you canât see his expression, but you faintly hear the long, drawn-out sigh he releases. Your eyes focus on the darkness that surrounds him, the way it curls like smoke. The shadows at his back are clearer to you than theyâve ever been â wings. Dark plumage that glitters with something silver in the light, the feathers are long, long enough that they drag behind his steps. If he were to unfold them they would easily span to the ends of the hallway.
He hardly gives you a glance, stopping in front of you. You canât see the creature now â blocked by Hoseokâs wings â but you hear it growl, and the scraping of itâs claws against the floor. Something glints in his hand against the flickering lights, a short sword that looks like it was dipped in gold from the hilt and it ran down the edges of the blade.
Heâs a blur as he moves and your tired eyes can barely keep up with him, if it werenât for the small space and shadows his wings casted you wouldâve lost sight of him completely.Â
The creature snarls and lashes out with its razor-sharp claws, but Hoseok is already one step ahead, dodging with effortless grace. He moves with a speed and agility that seems impossible in the space he occupies, closing in on the creature that growls and snarls at him. Itâs forced to dislodge itself from the doorway, pulling back into the stairwell that gives it even less room to defend.
Hoseokâs wings fold tightly to his back as he follows, and you could only hear the sound of his weapon sliding through the air, the sound of the blade whistling and the increasingly irritated sounds from the creature. Hoseok ducks under a swiped claw, makes a spin on his knee, and switches the hands that holds his blade. It slices through the creatureâs gigantic paw like itâs made of something soft, and through the other as it comes back down. The severed limb drops heavily on the ground before it dissolves into ashes and float upward.
The sound it makes grate on your ears, loud and sharp and you canât bring your hands up to cover them, something warm trickles out of each.
Without itâs two front legs to support itâs weight, the creature drops forward, and Hoseok grabs hold of the first spike at the top of its head. With a flick of his wrist his weapon spins in his palm and he points the blade right between the creatureâs eyes and pushes.
Golden light flashes, nearly blinding you on top of everything else, you can just barely hear the cry it makes this time as it writhes in agony. Itâs monstrous form twists and contorts before finally collapsing to the ground in a heap.
Hoseok stands over the fallen beast, his weapon clenched tightly in his hand, watching intently as itâs body dissipates like ash from a fire.
With a satisfied nod, Hoseok sheaths his weapon and it vanishes, and then turns his attention back to you, his expression a mixture of something. You canât tell, everything seems so dark and itâs hard to breathe. He approaches you slowly, his movements cautious as he assesses the extent of your injuries.
Hoseok crouches and you slowly look up at him, he tilts his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.
âI told you not to go anywhere, little dove.â He says softly, calmly, as though heâs telling you about his day and youâre not bleeding out in his hallway. âYouâre so troublesome.â
You try to respond, but the words stick in your throat, drowned out by the rush of blood and the overwhelming sense of impending darkness. Hoseokâs presence feels both comforting and ominous, his wings casting elongated shadows that dance across the walls. You try to focus on his face, to find some semblance of reassurance in his eyes, but all you see is a blur of shadows and flickering light.
âIâm sorry,â you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own laboured breathing.
Hoseokâs expression softens slightly, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. He reaches out a hand to gently brush the hair from your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the underlying tension in the air.
âJesus...â Another voice says, the sound of footsteps hurrying close and the last thing you see is the shift of the hallway.
The night he found you out in the fog wasnât the first time Hoseok had seen you.
By now, it wouldâve been at least three months ago. You were alone, pacing around like a worried mother on a bridge over your perceived peace â had you decided to take it.
Human lives were no longer any concern to him; no consequence. He and his kind were here before and would be long after your kind has crumbled to dust and returned to the earth. He stopped then, and watched you contemplate the height of the bridge and the chill of the water below it; whether or not youâll receive the mercy you seek. Youâd cried for a long time on that bridge.
Hoseok is many things, but cruel is not one of them. He changed your mind and sent you away into the arms of someone that would care.
Hoseok has many contradictions. The darkness that he allowed entry fights the light, beating it into a corner where it cowers on most days. On those days heâs distant and struggling to contain it, he could taste malice on his tongue and the bitterness of it. The steel walls he painstakingly built with bloody and broken fingers are nothing more than barbwire fences; they do nothing to protect the glass figurines that make him whole.
Sometimes the glass are shards, sharp and unforgiving and willing to cut anything that gets too close. Sometimes theyâre splintered panes and Hoseok is cutting his fingers to keep them in place. He curls in on himself, draws himself away, pushes everything outside his barbwire fence and tries to reinforce the walls. The darkness that swirls outside it seeps in and he canât keep it out so he lets it fester and churn and he becomes intangible.
You werenât there, and then, at some point, you were.
Sometimes...
Sometimes heâs standing in a grass field full of wild daises and the sun is warm and thereâs salt in the air. The light peeks through the leaves of an old oak tree, and thereâs a little girl whoâs placed her life in his hands, who skitters about in the  grass like something wild and free. She glows in her happiness, and nature stains her hands and the bottom of her white dress. She makes faces at him behind the trunk of the tree, smiles and hold his hands and tell him that itâs okay. It wasnât his fault and heâs forgiven, he could let it go and be.
On those days, Hoseok feels like a still pool of water. The ones with lily pads and life, and everythingâs alright. Youâre always there then.
Hoseok knows of the fragility of humans. How easily they could shatter and break and suddenly be no more. He was something once, and then he became something else, and sometimes itâs hard to not be what he is. His darker nature prevails, and he doesnât do much to stop it. Sure, sometimes heâs done things simply because heâs feeling particularly malicious and thinks that everyone should suffer â itâs almost always harmless.
He has a sense of himself, he knows when to stop, when things are taken too far and you canât take much more of it. You eventually learnt to take it in stride and Hoseok was proud of that, though, a part of him thought it wasnât nearly as fun anymore.
He would walk your dreams some nights when he was bored and had nothing better to entertain himself, his presence would sometimes bring his darkness and your dreams would not be as pleasant. He tried to walk through them less often.
When you were jumping at every little sound, the silence that Hoseok moves with and the way youâre less of yourself some days â he realised something. Not every nightmare was his doing, and the whispers in the walls of your dreams spoke of something else entirely.
The far, fuzzy edges of your vivid dreams where heâs reminded of things heâs tried very hard to lock away, lurks something red and more sinister than he.
Heâs every reason to believe that hellspawn didnât find itâs way here on accident, and for it to go undetected until the very last moment. It bothers him like nothing else has.
Though you lay peaceful now and Seungcheol had left after doing what he does best, the unease lingers in bouts under Hoseokâs skin, skittering about like electricity on a wire. His feelings where youâre concerned contradicts each other. Like oil on water heâs stuck in between wanting you close and keeping you at armâs length. He likes when youâre near, but he likes when youâre far. A consequence of his nature, he toes the line of something sinister and could get dangerous and down right evil if he doesnât reign himself in.
At a point he wasnât quite sure what to do with you. He was just as confused on why he stopped you from ending your own life that night on the bridge and why he took you in that night in the fog. At first, he was just as wary of you as you were of him, despite the way he acted. He canât help what he is.
On the days where he feels like splintered glass and heâs choking on his despair, youâd waited. You were there until the smoke cleared and your quiet presence helped put the glass back up and straighten out the posts in his fence.
He told Yoongi, thereâs no fun in not breaking you. Yoongi said that heâd learn.
He canât help what he is.
He could try, though.
He doesnât want to break you, itâs a matter of cause and effect. Youâre here with him, evidently, youâd be broken regardless. The most he could do is try. He could try to not be the straw, and try to not let outside forces become it.
He cares. He cares so much that sometimes he could taste it on his tongue. He cares that you smile when heâs earned it, that you eat well, that you greet him like a friend and then somewhere along get shy when you do. He cares if you live or die.
Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut, opening them to blink away the image of you, helplessly laying in a pool of your own blood.
Fear. Heâs has only felt it once, the fear that you would die and he wouldâve failed again to protect someone.
He sips slowly at his glass of whisky, drinking in the sight of you. He thought you were smart enough to listen to him at least, trusted that you would stay out until he got back. Perhaps it was his mistake, but he wonders, and he ponders as you give a minute twitch in your sleep. Your eyebrows draw together and you murmur something unintelligible.
Hoseok sets his tumbler on your bedside drawer and pulls his chair closer. This is something he could easily do from another room, though, for what heâs about to do he would need to be touching you in some capacity.
Your dream had started off vividly, as most of your dreams have since you came here. Hoseok stands just in the corner of it, watching you wake within your dream and put your feet down into water.
He walks along the edge of it, watching it play out like a simulation, following behind you as you make your way down the hall towards the living room. Heâs there and Hoseok isnât surprised â itâs not the first time youâve dreamt him.
He watches as your dreamscape version of him pull you into his lap and he feels a little offended and rolls his eyes â he didnât even try to make it look sexy. Is this what you think of him? He isnât half as tactless. Seduction takes finesse, and you clearly have no idea what that is.
Hoseok turns, gazing at the darkened edges of your dream.
Thereâs a shift and he feels it. Itâs heavy like a wet blanket and seeps in like mist, and your dream changes accordingly.
He knows this feeling too well â the intrusion of an external force manipulating the dream, itâs faint enough that he knows it wasnât in his apartment or anywhere nearby, but strong enough to reach so far.
Hoseok hovers hesitantly between the doorway of the living room and the hallway, and closes his eyes against the image of him hurting you.
He follows you as you follow blood, and he wishes you werenât so frightened. He stays close to you, stepping where youâve stepped as though he could protect you from something thatâs already occurred. You push the door to your bedroom open and he wants to stop you, turn you around and shake you awake, but he can only watch.
Youâre there and he is too, whispers skittering along the walls like mice, and Hoseok yanks himself out of your subconscious mind.
He feels like glass.
When you wake itâs dark and your back is sore like you fell from a high place and splatted against a body of water. The moment feels like dĂ©jĂ vu regardless as you swing your legs over the side of the bed with a wince.
The broken projector of your sleep-addled mind flickers in black and white cut scene imagines of the evening. Hoseok, the fog, the dog that crawled out of hell specifically for you â as you can only assume â things considered, youâre pretty certain you died at some point.
The dark unnerves you, it makes you feel like a kid as you pull your feet back up onto the bed, and pull the blanket up over your head and pulled tight between your fingers at your chest.
You scoot back, wiggling a bit until your back is pressed flush against the headboard. Thereâs no light seeping in from under your door, and you sink lower, curling into yourself and hold the blanket tighter.
Thereâs a prickling at the back of your neck that sends a shiver racing down your spine. Your head turns slowly to the left and notice the unnatural darkness of the space between the edge of the wall and the window pane. Relief blooms in your chest at the sight of it.
â...Hoseok.â You call softly, waving a hand into the dark. You wait for a moment, but the lights donât come on and he doesnât appear as he usually would.
Carefully, you unwrap the covers from around you and place your foot on the ground. Taking a moment, you count your fingers â itâs always hard to count them in your dreams. All ten are there, and you take a breath before standing.
The floor is cold, and you notice the carpet thatâs usually under your feet is missing, and the silhouettes of the things youâve made yours are different; this isnât your room.
You approach the ball of chaos carefully, and stand five steps away from the space it occupies. This is the second time youâve been close to it, the first time had been much closer and you hadnât understood it then. You reach a hand out, and gently: âHoseok...â
It slows, the shadows and wisps shifting gently like a leaf on a soft wind. It elongates into a vague outline and then, Hoseok stares through you before he sees you. Heâs still wearing the clothes he left in earlier, coat and all, looking a little more than rattled even in the dark.
He raises a hand and it hovers by your cheek, thumb ghosting the skin like heâs afraid youâll disappear. The lights didnât come back on and itâs hard to decipher his emotions in the dark.
âAre you okay?â he asks, his voice soft, barely a whisper in the darkness. Somewhere behind you, a lamp flickers on dimly and Hoseok looks like heâd shatter if you touched him.
âIâm okay.â
Hoseokâs hand drops slowly from your face as he blinks, as though waking from a dream. His gaze focuses on you, but thereâs a vacancy in his eyes. For a moment, he seems almost confused, as if heâs not sure how he ended up here or what to make of your presence.
His touch is light, gentle, like heâs handling something fragile when his fingers brushes yours. You feel his fear, a palpable thing, thick and heavy. Itâs a side of him youâve never seen before, and youâre not sure what to do with it.
He exhales softly through his nose, nods once and then his eyes are somewhere above your head. âAre you in pain?â
âNo,â Your back sings a low hymn, achy and sore, but itâs nothing to fuss over. âIâm okay.â
Thereâs a lot of things you want to ask, but you canât seem to pick one. You want to ask him about the fog and the creature, about his wings or how youâre even alive to mull over said questions.
Instead, you ask: âAre you okay?â
Hoseok looks unprepared for that, his eyes snapping back to yours and he flounders. His mouth opens and closes before he stares at you in that unnerving way he had your first couple of days here, like heâs trying to understand you. Like he could strip you down to atoms and see what makes you act the way you do and therefore comprehend the bases of your human nature.
âIâm...â He blinks, looks away, and a muscle beneath his right eye twitches, âIâm okay.â
He doesnât sound convinced and you arenât either, and where his hand brushes yours you reach out first. His fingers are cold and he looks down, staring at your hand like itâs something foreign, but his grip tightens. Itâs quiet for a moment, he takes a breath that doesnât seem to ease the weight he carries.
âYou almost died.â He says quietly, brows furrowed as though he canât understand his own concern. âWhen I brought you here...I did so with the intention to keep you safe.â
Itâs quiet again and you wait, and wait.
Hoseokâs eyes mist, his breath shudders on the exhale. âI wasnât here in time. Again. Iââ
His hand in yours tremble, heâs looking through you again, not entirely here and he looks like a man haunted by ghosts he alone could see. You stumble a step back when he falls to his knees before you, but didnât get far as his arms wound tight around your waist. Thereâs something strange about a creature such as him with all his prowess and tainted grace kneeling at your feet, and his words tumble from his mouth like his tears that soak into your borrowed shirt and he lets you hold the chain that drags behind him.
The weight is heavy, heavy enough that it grounds you and you listen to it rattle as Hoseok tells you everything. In a broken tone about a broken home and a child he couldnât reach in time to save, about the shadows that he let hide the light and now he struggles to find it. The things heâs done since that would make the most wicked men cower.
You make the connection, as he lays himself bare before you. He peeled back the layers of his being himself and let you look inside; the bases of his nature, the connotations of his own sins. It makes sense to you now. The way he would change like the tide and his near obsessive, compulsive need to wrap you in bubble wrap and put you in a glass case. Heâd long stopped scaring you and somehow became a comfort despite himself.
Maybe itâs circumstantial, or something else entirely, but youâve grown to care for him and heâs been caring for you from the start. However skewed that was.
When heâs stopped his babbling, and heâs no longer crying, he still holds you tight, whispering apologies against the dampness of your shirt. You meet his height, gently pulling his arms away from you and you kneel, too. He blinks away the last of his tears and you catch them with your thumbs just under his red-rimmed eyes.
Heâs no longer looking through you, one of his hands covers yours, his lips brushing delicately against your wrist when he turns his head; your heart flutters. He whispers something you didnât catch, he closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, he repeats: âYou can leave if you want.â
âI donât have anywhere to go.â
âWill you stay, then?â He looks away when he asks, pressing his fingers against your palm in a way that tickles and distracts, and studies the lines of them quietly. âStay here with me.â
Thereâs something like hope in his eyes that glints against the shadows that linger, shining like flecks gold in cracked rock. You nod slowly and he smiles easily, all teeth and heart shaped and his hand is warm when he cups your cheek with the one that isnât holding yours.
âYour dream...â He says softly, and later youâd find that it troubled him the most; he would never do something like that â not to you. âIâm sorry.â
You store the fact that he knows about it at the back of your mind for later â later when heâs not pressing the pad of his thumb against the fullness of your bottom lip, tracing the shape of it. Youâve learnt to ebb and flow with him, a boat on his tide, taking the shift of his mood in stride.
Thereâs something in his eyes now that has nothing to do with how you found him earlier, something that makes you follow his lead, leaning in when he pulls you towards him. Deja vu accompanies the way he shifts, easing back and turning you as he does, leaning against a dresser you hadnât noticed. He keeps his eyes locked with yours, directing your leg over his with a hand, and he settles you on his lap.
âThis feels familiar.â He giggles, lifting his head to nose along your jaw and youâre reminded that he knows. Heat flares at the back of your neck and races up your ears, and when you push against his shoulders, he steadies and keeps you still with his hands on the top of your thighs and a click of his tongue against his teeth.
âIâm teasing.â He gives a crooked smile, tilting his head, âItâs cute that you think itâll play out that way.â
âIsnât it, though?â You blurt out, embarrassment forgotten. Honestly, the only thing thatâs changed is the room, and when Hoseok pauses you smirk.
He smirks right back, something dangerous, and he chuckles, âKeep talking back. I like that.â
His hand slides up your back, and you donât suppress the shiver that follows after it. The air grows heavy, charged with unspoken tension. Youâre vaguely aware of your heart pounding, the rhythm matching the erratic thrum of your blood. He leaves a kiss where your jaw meets your neck, sucking lightly on the spot.
âHoseok...â You start to say his name, but it comes out as a breathless whisper. Youâre not sure what you intended to say, but the words get caught in your throat.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. âWhat is it?â he asks, his voice rough with desire and darker still. âDo you want me to stop?â
You shake your head, unable to form words.
With a low growl, he takes your silence as an invitation, his fingers tangle in your hair, and he tilts your head down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss you gasp into. It quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, as if heâs trying to devour your very soul. His other hand finds your hip, squeezing possessively.
Youâre lost in the sensation, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours. The world has narrowed to the two of you, to this moment.
A soft moan escapes your lips, and he takes that as a cue, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that sets your entire being ablaze.
His touch ignites a fire within you, consuming your senses and leaving you breathless, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, pulling you closer until thereâs no space left between you.
He pulls away slowly and you chase, he smirks against your kiss, and when he lifts his hips you feel the press of his arousal. His kisses trail, ghosting along your jaw, his tongue warm where your pulse thrums. He directs the shifts of your hips, grinding you down against clothed erection with a curse growled against your skin.
You follow the light tug of his hand in your hair, tilting your head back and to the side to give him more room to work. He hums appreciatively around your skin between his teeth and you hiss softly at the sting of the pull.
âSo good for me.â He whispers when he pulls away. His fingers tap at your hip before he wraps his arm around, bracing the other against the dresser behind and stands easily.
A startled squeak leaves you, wrapping your arms around his neck even though heâs holding you steady. He reaches the bed in two strides, and drops you there, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.
You bounce a bit amongst the soft sheets with a soft giggle before you settle. His index finger curls beneath your chin and tilts, thumb brushing along your bottom lip again, âAh.â
You comply easily, and then his thumb is pressing against your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth and he hums when you wrap your lips around the digit. Thereâs a tick of his brow and the dull glint of his teeth when he smiles in the dim light of the singular lamp, and a darkness in his eyes that doesnât scare you.
He tests the boundaries of what youâd allow, sliding his thumb along your tongue. His palm lays flat against your cheek, thumb reaching far until you feel the lurch of your stomach and pull back with a gasp.
He coos softly, leaning down just as he slips his finger out of your mouth to capture your lips in a kiss thatâs more teeth and tongue than anything else. He nudges you back softly, large hands sneaking their way under your tee to reach your skin, desperate in a way that makes you think heâd die if he doesnât.
He stops just shy of the undersides of your breasts, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. His breaths are shallow, he whispers your name, âI can get intense.â
âI know.â
âI could hurt you.â
âI know.â
He studies you for a moment, then, tugs gently on the hem of your tee-shirt, âUp.â
As you shift to sit, youâre not surprised to find you arenât wearing anything underneath the tee-shirt and cotton shorts heâs put you in; dressing you properly mustâve been the last thing on his mind.
Hoseok stands back to shed his coat, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Thereâs a metallic clink as the buckle of his belt jingles, and the sound of it racing through the loops of his pants.
You â oddly â donât feel ashamed under his gaze that sets a heat wherever it settles as he roams over your exposed upper half. Putting your weight on your hands, you lean back, watching Hoseok roll the long sleeves of his tee-shirt up his forearms.
His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he closes the distance again, climbing into the bed on his knees and coming up until theyâre on either side of your thighs. Silently he trails a finger down the slope of your neck, it tickles across your collarbone and his fingers spread and palms your left breast.
Your breath hitches and he chuckles, and you know very well he could feel the shifting of your thighs as you rub them together seeking friction. Itâs been ages since anyoneâs touched you like this, all of Hoseokâs teasing isnât doing you much good.
His lips meet yours, licking into your mouth, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. His fingers lightly pinch at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand roams, goosebumps following itâs path down your side and stops where his fingers tease the band of your shorts.
Your hips buck as you whine and Hoseok pulls away, eyelids heavy, pupils all but gone, panting softly; looking drunk on you.
He smiles and makes a disapproving sound at the back of his throat. âPatience little dove.â He tuts, tilting his head at you, âIâll give you what you need.â
He trails his fingers along the edges of your shorts before pulling them down and off, leaving you exposed to his touch. His hair tickles where it drags against your sensitive skin as he moves downward. He avoids where you need him most entirely and you squirm, a soft whine building in your chest.
He kisses and licks his way up your thighs, teasing you until youâre begging. Gently, he spreads your legs, kissing the inner thigh of your right before he rests it over his shoulder, pushing your other up and holding it there with a palm.
His dark gaze meets yours and you canât hold it when he licks a hot stripe from your weeping entrance to your clit. Your hand shoots down to grip his hair, back arching when his responding growl vibrates against your core.
With each stroke of his tongue, Hoseok explores every inch of your most sensitive areas. He laps at your clit, drawing out a series of gasps and moans that fill the room. Youâre shaking and swearing as he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling around your clit in figure eights and then dipping into you. He moans like youâre the best thing heâs ever tasted.
Your hands curl into the sheets, fingers digging in as if to anchor yourself. Youâre lost in the sensations, a whirlwind of pleasure that leaves you breathless. And you wonder, briefly, if this was just something he was good at or something he had to hone.
His arm draping over your hips was the only warning you got before his lips wraps around your clit and sucks. Your back arches with a pitched moan and he slips a finger into your heat, and groans when you clench and gasp his name.
Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a reminder of your vulnerability. Yet, paradoxically, itâs this vulnerability that fuels your desire, pushing you to new heights. Youâre a wild thing now, driven by pure, primal need.
From between your legs, Hoseok watches your reactions, a dark-haired god feasting on your pleasure. His gaze is intense, a silent promise that heâll take you to the edge. He adds another finger and they curl against your g-spot and it brings about your undoing.
If your arousal was a fire, Hoseok just threw gasoline on it just to watch it explode. He keeps hips lips around your clit as it throbs, fingers dragging along your fluttering walls and your eyes squeeze shut. You could barely breathe, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you gasp his name.
âGood girl.â Hoseok praises, lips brushing your clit and your thighs tremble. He rubs his hand gently over your stomach while you come down, and evilly, bites your thigh with a dark chuckle.
âHoseok...â you whine as he laves his tongue over the stinging spot.
âHm?â He smiles, âWant more, little dove?â
You almost cry as he changes course, pulling away entirely, and makes it clear he revel in your suffering when he coos mockingly, standing now.
He slowly unbuttons his pants, slowly pulls his legs out of them one after the other, smirking at you all the while. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the strain his cock against his black boxer briefs and you donât miss the near inaudible sigh of relief from Hoseok at the change in pressure.
He crooks a finger at you, and shuffles closer as you do. He stands at the edge of the bed, and he sinks his fingers into your hair, brushing it back as you look up at him. He looks down his nose at you, and raises a brow, âBe a good girl now, dove. Or do I have to teach you?â
âI know how to suck cock you ass.â
Hoseok shrugs, a playful smile shifting his expression as he gently squeezes your cheeks, puckering your lips, âIs all that little mouth good for talking back to me?â
âYou said you like that.â You say defiantly.
Hoseok hums, âHave your fun then,â He says, smiling, âWonât be able to say much in a bit, anyway.â He tugs on your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to signal his impatience.
Funny, he was preaching patience is a virtue a while ago.
You scoff softly, holding your weight with a hand and tugging his boxers down with the other. His cock springs out, long and thick enough that you wonder if it would fit anywhere. Itâs flushed red at the tip and leaking pre that beads and dribbles down the underside, and maybe if you focus enough you could just about see the throb of the vein that runs along side. A breath hisses through Hoseokâs teeth when you wrap your fingers around him, his eyes shut and his head tilts back.
Your eyes meet his when you slowly drag your hand down the length of his shaft, teasing him like he did you; turnabout is fair play. His hold in your hair tightens just a bit, eyes narrowing.
âDangerous game youâre trying to start.â He murmurs, âI donât take well t â fuck.â He hisses, the word tapering off into a low groan as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.
The slightly salty taste of him bursts against your tongue and you hum, twisting your wrist as you bring your hand back up to meet your mouth and follow it down again. The saliva that escapes from the corners of your mouth helps with the glide.
You take a breath through your nose and relax your jaw, taking him in until he hits the back of your throat and you gag. Hoseokâs thighs tense and a stuttered breath leaves him.
âEasy there.â He soothingly runs his fingers through your hair, though it does nothing for the involuntary tears springing at your waterline. You decide to play it safe, not taking more than you can handle. Hoseok doesnât seem to mind, letting you set your own pace, whispering swears and your praises.
Heat pools in your gut as your head bobs back and forth, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, swirling around the head every time you pull back.
Slick with spit, your hand strokes the rest of him, and his groans vibrate in your ears. His fingers tighten in your hair, and itâs the only time he directs; holding you still.
âTake a deep breath for me, dove.â You do as told, and as you inhale, Hoseok slowly pushes forward, his cock reaching the back of your throat in no time at all. He groans above you, cock throbbing against your tongue, âThere you go.â
He holds you there for a moment, only easing you back when your throat tightens with the need for air. He lets you breathe for a bit before heâs going again, thrusting slowly, once, twice and then holding you still. He keeps you there, cock throbbing at the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the neatly trimmed hair at the base.
When you gag he pulls you back, barely letting you breathe before heâs leaning down to kiss you, catching the string of drool that hangs from your bottom lip with his tongue. He lets you catch your breath, stepping back to pull his tee-shirt over his head and your mouth goes dry at the full expanse of his lithe frame.
Sitting back on your heels, breath a little ragged, you admire the sculpted lines of his body. Every movement is fluid and graceful, his muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin.
His chest is defined, the faintest sheen of sweat highlighting each ripple of muscle. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders, the way they flex as he moves. Thereâs a raw, primal energy about him, but itâs tempered by a quiet confidence.
Hoseok comes back to you quickly, cupping your cheek and kissing you fervently, moving with you as you shift back, cock smearing pre-cum along your inner thighs as he slots his narrow hips between them. He nibbles at your bottom lip, fingers sliding through your slick folds before the head of his cock nudges against your entrance.
For a quiet moment he stares then, kisses you tenderly as he breeches. Itâs an easy glide, but it stings none the less, and you give an appreciative squeeze to his wrist when he goes slow. The stretch is bearable and soon the slight discomfort dissipates when he bottoms out and gives you a moment.
âGood?â he breathes out, hips pressed flush against yours. The same breath sucked back through his teeth when your walls tightens around him, his cock throbs in response and you keen. He grinds his hips down, pelvis pressing against your swollen clit and the sensation is almost too much and not nearly enough.
Heâs close enough that you can run your tongue along his collarbone  and feel him shiver. Leave your own marks there with your teeth and revel in the growl that rumbles in his chest.
He hooks an arm at the back of your knee, pressing it against your chest as he raises and balances his weight. Youâre spread open for him, his cock sinks deeper, rubbing against a spot that makes your eyes roll back. He gives shallow thrusts at first, pressing kisses and bruises wherever he could reach.
âFuck.â Hoseok hisses between his teeth, hips still, palm against your cheek, and he watches you with something other than lust in his eyes. Something gentle as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. âLook at you, such a good girl. Taking everything I give you.â
His hips snap forward and you cry out, hands gripping the sheets between them at his sinful groan. He keeps a relentless pace, and you could feel him everywhere. His fingers on your skin, leaving you cold and hot at the same time, gripping your hips so tightly you fear theyâll bruise. It would simply add to the ones heâs already placed, scattered on your neck and chest like mismatched constellations in a dark sky.
He brings your hands up above your head, holding them there, together with his free one.
âYouâre so good to me, Dove. And all mine, hm? Say it.â He grunts, âSay you belong to me, promise me that youâll stay here with me.â He says this softly, tenderly, grinding his hips against yours in slow movements, tightening the coil in your stomach.
âIâm yours, Iâm yours. I promise.â You babble, hips moving against his on their own accord. âIâll stay. I promise. Please.â
Hoseok groans at your words, leaning down to capture your lips with his, tongue finding yours with ease. âThatâs right. Youâre mine. Fuck. All mine. Say it again.â
âIâm yours, Hoseok.â
He curses under his breath, straightening his form and brings his hands down to grip your hips tight, and sets a brutal pace. Head tilting back to reveal the marks you left on him, groaning before he looks back down at you, âClose? Hm? Youâre squeezing so tight.â His words taunt, as did the smirk on his pretty pink lips, âMake a mess for me, Dove. Cum all over my cock. Thatâs it, good girl.â
White lights dance behind your tightly shut eyelids, a ringing in your ears. And Hoseok was fucking you through it, fast and hard, his praises a rumble in his chest. You lay there boneless, taking what he gave with a haze over your mind, a weak moan leaving your parted lips when his hand met your throat. Your heart spikes for another reason entirely, but he doesnât squeeze. Fingers just there, barely any pressure, as he chased his own end, cock kissing your cervix with each trust, his other hand pressed against your lower stomach.
His thumb finds your clit and you jolt, catching his sinister smirk that curled his lips. âThereâs no going back after this, baby. Fuck â youâre mine, understand?â You can feel him throbbing, feel the way his hips stutter on the draw back, he was close and you wanted nothing more than him marking you, claiming you in this way. When your eyes meet his, a shiver goes through you.
He comes undone with a low groan, hips flushed with your own, still thrusting through it, and you can see them with your own eyes, as he shudders and stills. His wings uncurl, dark feathers, darker than anything youâve ever seen, dipped in silver, spreads out behind him and flutters. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, gentle, barely there and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
Your eyelids were heavy, and sleepily, you reach out to brush your fingers through the feathers that encased your forms. Hoseok stiffens before your fingers reach them, and chuckles, nipping softly at the flesh of your neck, âGo ahead, Dove.â
He relaxes, when your fingers touch, and you feel him shudder, groaning softly against your neck. Theyâre soft, your fingers disappearing in the inky blackness of them. With a final brush of his lips against your neck, Hoseok pulls back, his wings shimmering away like a mirage and your hand passes through air before lands limply at your side.
He squeezes your hip gently, mindful, and then heâs gone, walking out his room and into the hallway. The light that spills in helps you see a lot better than the dim lamp, and you notice that Hoseokâs bedroom looks much like the rest of his apartment; sleek and dark. There isnât much to it either, the basics, more utilirian than a comfort space. You wonder if he uses it at all.
Hoseok comes back and gathers your boneless self into his arms. You rest your cheek against his collarbone, the sound of running water reaching your ears when he steps out into the hallway.
The tub is filling, steam rising from the bubbles that form at the top of the disturbed water. It smells like mint and some sort of fruit, and the temperature is just right when he steps into it and lowers you down. He positions you so that your back is against his chest and turns off the water when itâs high enough. You sense that heâs in his head again, not quite here even as he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck.
âFeeling okay?â he asks suddenly, tracing a mindless pattern along your arm.
You hum softly, âYeah. Sore, though.â
âI expected that.â Another kiss, apologetic, against your shoulder. âAlso...â Hoseok pauses, âI finished inside you. I didnât ask. Iâm sorry.â
The realisation dawns on you too and you shift a little to look at him, âI donât mind, but....is that a bad thing?â
Thereâs a strange half smile on his lips and he lifts a hand to tug softly on one tangled end of your hair, gently sifting his fingers through until heâs satisfied. âIt can be, if it takes. But, Iâll get something for it tomorrow.â
You notice that the marks you left along his skin have begun to fade already, and you poke at them with a finger. He heals quickly, you figured. He chuckles softly, taking your hand to press kisses along your finger tips and then to your palm. Your finger brushes over the mole on his upper lip gently and watch him melt.
He studies you for a moment, the same way he did before he left earlier, though, itâs softer now. âWould you like to come with me?â
You brighten, perking up with a nod, âIs that okay?â
Hoseok hums, mischief in his eyes, âIf you promise not to run off as soon as you step foot outside.â
You roll your eyes and turn around, and Hoseok pulls you back to him with an arm around your middle. âI have nowhere to go.â
âI know, I was only teasing.â He chuckles.
Youâre both quiet for a while, and you simply relax, almost falling asleep against him as the warm water soothes your aching muscles. You arenât aware that you did, and only wake when Hoseok was just done tucking fresh clean sheets up to your chin. Youâre back in his room but you donât mind, the thought of going back to your own unsettles you right now. You havenât forgotten your nightmare, and itâs something youâd definitely have to unpack another day.
You wait until heâs crawled in behind you, the warmth of him encasing you gently. His form melds against your back like he belongs there, an arm slipping under your head and the other over your hip. âHoseok?â
âYes Dove?â
You worry at your bottom lip, fingers finding his under the covers and they squeeze your own encouragingly. âThereâs a friend of mine...I was with her before I met you.â
âI can help her.â He murmurs, and he sounds...sleepy. Today was a lot for him as well, you suppose. âI can get her a job here.â
You shift, turning to face him, he tucks you to him when you settle, chin resting on top of your head. âHow are you gonna do that?â
You hear the smirk when he answers, âDo you think everything I have magically appeared? I own the hotel.â
âWhaââ
âShh.â Hoseok squeezes your hip, âGo to sleep.â
Sometime later youâll realise that Hoseok needed you more than he would admit. When you learn his tells he would help put himself back together with you instead of trying to do it alone.
Sometime later heâd take you to see her. When the wind is cold and the old oak tree reaches itâs bare, spindly arms to the frosted sky. When the day marks yet another year and he lets you put the flowers between the roots. He looks like a shadow against the glittering white, and he tells you heâs okay.
Heâd take you to meet his friends at a club on the high-end and youâd would realise that heâs soft only with you and the guy who reminds you of a cat. With the others heâs closed off and friendly in a way that seems a little odd.
Youâd see Abigail often and would skirt around how you actually met Hoseok when sheâd ask. Anyone would think youâre crazy if you told them.
You spend most of your time at home while Hoseok goes off doing god knows what when heâs not there. Itâs something to do with his friends and you never ask.
Then heâs there and everything beyond him and you and the space you both occupy doesnât matter. And itâs kind of easy to forget where it all started â itâd been so long since youâd wondered where you were going to get anything to help you get by.
Heâs made of cracks and splintered glass but he let you sink into the spaces, filled the pieces with you and settled. There would always be cracks in the glass that heâs made of, and there would always be a post in his fence that he needs to hammered in to fix. Despite the unconventional way youâd both started, the abnormality of his existence, youâd be there.
[bold, can't tag]
Tagging: @iammeandmeisiam , @imanhaitani @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @astormunchar @eoieopda @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @mssukeynaâ @euphoricfilter @luaspersona
#Persphonesorchid#Connotations of sin#jung hoseok#jung hoseok x reader#jhope#bts#bts jhope#bts hoseok#hobi#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts fic recs#hobi x reader#fallen angel#fallen angel au#jhope fluff#jhope smut#jhope angst#jhope x reader#bts x you#bts x fem!reader#hoseok x reader#bts smut#bts fanfiction#bts imagines#bts oneshot#bts horror#bts fic rec#bts fic#jhope fic
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Iâm back đ¶ thank you for being patient, things are relatively back to normal! Anyways I got some drawings⊠itâs the actual D&D au now! Iâve got plenty of ideas, but for now this is Alaska and Maine! Alaska is a Druid, circle of stars though his race is unknown (I also donât have any general cloth ideas for him). It is noted he is very bird-like tho, no wings because he can just have a wild shape/starry form with a pair. Maine is a half human half beast, heâs quite prickly because unfortunately even in this au he still has to deal with the northeast đ (long rants of ideas below)
I also have other ideas for other states, but I havenât drawn them yet. For New Jersey Iâm thinking like Nevada he is a fae folk but of a bee; and he was born with deformed and torn wings that resemble the Jersey devilâs. But due to his deformity his âhiveâ decided to just toss him out because they wanted a big strong community with no one holding them back đ so maybe Jersey had to barely survive out there on his own, and in later years NY couldâve found him (I like to think he is a human knight, merely because instead of his bat he can have a sword) and took him in đ (and they were roommates)
Another idea Iâve got is for Texas! I would like to think he is a mostly human gunslinger who is legally blind (not totally blind, tho still very blind) but sees thru heat & taste, much like a snake does. Maybe he collects bounties, I havenât really thought much for his lore yet đ€ but he is one of the best gunslingers out there despite his disability!
Cali is also one Iâve thought up, I think he could be a dragon rider. A funny idea is that he has a scam where he and his dragon makes this whole act where he pretends to be a princess damsel in distress, being held captive by the big bag dragon and people who come and try to âsaveâ him but it just ends up with Cali robbing them đ (love me a big flawed character)
As for Alaska, heâs as stated, a Druid of the circle of stars! He comes from an unknown island (just imagine irl state of Alaska except disconnected to any continent tbh) thatâs gatekeeped gaslighted girlbossed because they donât want no colonizers or anything ofc. But Alaska grew up hearing all about the other outside lands and he wanted to go see it! So one day he ventured into the continents (the one that contains all the other states except for Hawaii) and yaddy yadda; and Alaska is actually very curious and friendly in this au because he doesnât have the trauma of outsiders đ he has a pet(s?) dog with three heads (ofc, Balto Togo and Fido) to accompany him! I havenât designed his starry forms yet btw. And also he doesnât really know how his Druid magic works somehow đ§ itâs mostly innate and learned behaviors and habits and traditions. It just comes naturally to him! This is the biggest difference between him and Mass with magic, think of Alaskaâs Druid magic as traditional and natural, meanwhile Massâs sorcery as artificial and learned and studied magic. So itâs hard to say who between the two is better at magic
Maine is a half-human-half-beast, he faces discrimination because of it and there arenât much others like him in at home land. He mostly doesnât care but the occasional person really gets to him. Not really sure why he is half beast yet tho I donât have the lore for that. Mass keeps trying to pester Maine about learning magic, as Mass is one of the best magic users in his region (and heâs quite boastful/egotistical because of it) so he believes Maine might be really good too, and Mass wants him to be able to know it when in times of need, but Maine doesnât really listen đ though he is nimble and quite good at sneaking!
My last minor ideas is that Ginny is a great swordsman (race undecided), Mass is probably a human sorcerer, Nevada is a fae folk, Ny is a human knight, and Hawaii đ€ some sorta sea/ocean critter maybe? Dunno yet. Anyways I hope these ideas are cool and that you guys like them! I also want to mention I probably wont post daily still, I wanna do whatâs comfortable for me.
#wttt#welcome to the table#welcome to the statehouse#ben brainard#wttt fanart#wttt fan art#wttsh#wttsh fanart#wttt headcanons#wttt alaska#wttt maine#wttt au#wttt mass#wttt massachusetts#wttt new york#wttt new jersey#wttt california#wttt texas
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wait wdym dc didn't stick with Red Robin for Tim [and the de-aging thing?] what are they calling him if not RR?
He's been Robin again since 2019 đŹ it's a bit more complicated but that's the gist of it.
Okay so Tim became Red Robin in the 2009-2011 series of the same name, back in the post-Crisis timeline. He was supposedly 17 at the time, by official records, and I believe he was still supposed to be 17 when the universe was rebooted with Flashpoint in 2011? (Although this doesn't really make any sense with respect to jamming the huge number of events that happened while he was Robin into like four years, if he was supposed to have become Robin at 13; he should probably at least be 18 if not 19-20).
The Flashpoint reboot took us into the New 52 (much beloathed), where nearly everyone was de-aged to some extent to keep Bruce Wayne and his generation from getting ~too old~, and also Tim Drake was mangled into a completely different character who had never been "Robin"; he'd been "Red Robin" right from the start of his vigilante career. He was de-aged to 16 for the New 52 Teen Titans series.
Teen Titans (2011) #0; as you can see, this version of Red Robin kept a version of the bandoliers and gave Tim a fancy new functional wing cape that he could fly around with.
Next, Rebirth in 2016 was a partial reboot that brought back some aspects of the post-Crisis timeline; tbh I'm not an expert on this period. What I do know is that Tim mainly appears in James Tynion IV's run of Detective Comics that ran from 2016 to 2018. During this period Tim was still called Red Robin, but he'd basically reverted to a Robin costume, with only the silly doubled "RR" symbol identifying him as not ~actually~ Robin winkwink nudgenudge, and as I understand it he was mostly back to functioning as Bruce's partner.
Tynion's run ends in Detective Comics #981 with Tim telling Bruce that he's going off to Ivy University. (He's totally lying, as Tim Drake does; Alfred notices that his tracker is going off in the opposite direction of the university, but Bruce is like "I trust him" and turns the tracker off. Yay, I guess?)
Anyway the important bit is this revealing that Tim is 'going-off-to-college' age. Which could still reasonably be anywhere from 17-19, and DC being DC, they ~refuse to confirm~
Tim as Red Robin on the cover of Detective Comics #934 (2016); as you can see, he's pretty much Robin again lol
Detective Comics #968 (2018); another shot of his "basically Robin" Red Robin costume
In 2019 we got the actual return of Tim as Robin (no "Red") in Brian Michael Bendis's Young Justice run, re-uniting the Core Four from YJ 1998.
Young Justice (2019) #1
As you can see, he no longer has the doubled 'RR', and he confirms that he's Robin - "Well, one of them!" I think he's supposed to be filling in as the Gotham Robin while Damian is running around the world having adventures and presumably getting into trouble, as Robins do? idk.
Tim also chases down his erased post-Crisis past at the beginning of this arc, having Zatanna magically restore (most of) his memories of the previous timeline, and, crucially, his forgotten best friend Kon, kickstarting some plot.
Tim, and all of the Young Justice crew, are notably young-looking for almost the entirety of this run. It varies based on the artist, but uh, yeah for the most part they are really damn baby-faced. This is a trend that continues with Tim and his generation of friends from this point onward, so fans have basically thrown up their hands like "is he 17 forever???? is he Edward Cullen from Twilight???? is he aging backward????"
We Just Don't Know
In any case, Bendis makes DC's next attempt to give Tim his own identity in short order, giving us the hilarious, ill-fated, and rightfully short-lived "Drake" identity.
Young Justice (2019) #10
He's back to being Robin by issue #18, hilariously switching costumes from one page to the next, although some time has apparently passed during the scene transition.
Young Justice (2019) #18; Jinny: "Is Drake back to being Robin?" Kon: "I think Batman and Spoiler made him go back to Robin. Don't bring it up. And say thank you because we didn't have to have the Drake intervention we were planning."
And as of the current date (July 13, 2023), Tim is still in the Robin identity, sharing it with Damian ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ God knows how old he's supposed to be right now. I certainly don't.
Batman (2016) #136; the most recent issue out to date, with Tim suiting up as Robin while filling Bruce in after diving into a bunch of parallel dimensions to bring Bruce home.
As you can see, it's a Mess. The Tim Drake's Vigilante Identity question is of course a hotbed of wank and infighting, as people are torn between (a) wanting him to continue as Robin and (b) wanting him to move on and "grow up" into his own identity again (and, importantly, leave Damian as the sole Robin again, lol).
It feels like most people are for option (b), but then nobody can agree on what his next identity and costume should be. Red Robin again?? Some other bird-based identity that doesn't share a name with a major restaurant chain?? Something else entirely??
God only knows what DC is going to come up with, especially after the Drake fiasco.
And there you have it, Anon! Hope that was helpful.
#tim drake#robin#red robin#batman#dc#dcu#dc comics#anonymoose#asks#I've read very very few post-Flashpoint comics tbh so I can't pretend to be an expert but this should be accurate I think#happy for any corrections#I only started paying attention to DC again with Young Justice (2019)#bc MY BLORBOS#so it's mostly that and YJ Dark Crisis (terrible horrible burn it with fire) and now Chip Zdarsky's Batman run#because Tim Tim Tim Tim and also YJ#I'm also about halfway through Tim Drake: Robin#oh and the Mark Waid/Dan Mora World's Finest; which is delightful tbh#I also have some post-Flashpoint Nightwing runs on my To Read list#mostly the Dick & Tim bits bc I am Predictable#gerryrigged
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