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vinetae · 2 years ago

Note

idk if this will spark an idea in your bones but currently im just like thinking of mafia member jimin who finds dog hybrid oc after busting an operation and she's like not okay? and is just like soft and shit for her but like slowly falls in love with her or something idk it's just a running idea in my head and i wanted to dump it somewhere

... so if it inspires you i'd love to see this blab written down 💗

Jasmine and Vanilla - M

Pairings: Jimin x Dog Hybrid!Reader (Ft. ???!Jungkook)

Genre: Hybrid!AU, Yandere!AU

Summary: Life had been well in the labs. As swell as one could get when you're the main subject for a breeding facility. One storm night, your whole routine world is shaken upside down. Left is right, and right is left. When you're finally faced with freedom, you don't know what to do. luckily, you've got the best alpha- ahem. I mean person to help you along in the new world. However, what will happen when your biology is pinned against you?

Warnings: Force-feed, suggestive smut, 18+, mentions of guns, blood, gore, murder, death, and more death, yandere themes, clingy!Reader, HEATS (I know I love those types of tags ;) ), Dog hybrid anatomy, mentions of pills and heat suppressants, Cursing, foul language, and Jungkook's kind of annoyed with reader lol.

The metal doors slide open. Vapors or white and reds smoke the room like a disease. Blurring every sight you could see. Men of all shapes and sizes dressed in white lab coats. A harsh force shoves your arm.

“Get a move on, Seven.”

There’d been plenty of others before you. Each of the girls had different numbers assigned when admitted to the facility. Each color represented every room. Yellow for yard time. That’s when you’d usually be allowed a few minutes outside of the doors, to read a book or something. They had said fresh air had been good for the specimens.

Whatever that meant.

“Ah, good morning my dear.” His face crinkles with age. The lab coat washes out his tones, making it seem as if he’d been a paranormality floating around these halls. The droop in his eyes sign years onto his body. Gravity taking a toll like nothing else.

“We’ve got a special one for you, Juje.” He motions towards the tall figure standing large in the corner of the room. His upper half had already been exposed. Sweat beads drip down his reddened skin, as his chest heaves with anger. Your nose twitches at the putride stretch.

He wasn’t your kind, that’s for sure.

The old man smiled, switching his eyes from yours, back to the feral man’s. A bright and promising grin curls the corner of his lips.

“Well? Go on.” You’d been too caught up in the brooding male’s aura. His body’s light burned with a deep, crimson red. Almost as dark and menacing as the hues of blood. His eyes narrowed, chest rising and puffed from exhaustion. A metal strap coiled around the base of his neck. His pure white ears perked in alert. Body coercing a fighting stance, looking like he’d been ready to pounce at any slimmer of threats that could present.

The professor’s white tinted and unkempt eyebrows raised, motioning you closer to the stranger.

A few seconds drip by, as if the world had taken a pause. Just looking at this person made your head feel like a brick had swung at you. Breath, caught by something dark and coiled. Your legs trembled with slight fear arising. He took quick notice of your prey-like stance, softening his features. A grumbled and raspy voice can barely be audible in your mind. As if someone had paused on a staticky radio station.

“H-Here.” Is all you could make out. Your eyebrow quirks in confusion. What did he mean by this? Obviously he doesn’t want to be here, but that was a weird word to say. Nobody even knew where ‘here’ was anyways..

A clap of the professor’s hands pulls the both of you from your little ‘guess the word’ game. He snaps, pointing at the two of you.

“Let’s get them in the glass.”

–

By ‘glass’ he’d meant the transparent arena. You see, there’d been four quadrants of this place. Sector One held all of the ‘potentials’ as they liked to call it. Sector Two had all of the rainbow rooms. Playgrounds, some toys they think we’d enjoy, reading corners, and the yards. Sector Three had the labs and incubator rooms. Your friend Yuna went missing a couple weeks ago. She’d always been a bit on the timid side. Ever since being brought into this place, she’d become your best friend. You two read together, watched movies when allowed, and slept in the same quadrants. She’d disappeared three weeks ago.

After asking around, some rumor had made its way through the sectors. Saying that she’s been taken to Four. Nobody knew what Four had been. Knew what it held.

You hadn’t seen her since.

The bright fluorescent lights switch on, as a generator grows loud in the back. The whole room lights up with blinding rays of prosthetic glints. Your body flings forward, dropping to your knees instantly.

You knew this routine.

Ever since your first heat had started, you’d been taken to what the other numbers had called ‘the white room’. This was your least favorite of all.

The metal syringe digs deep past the outer layer of your skin. Piercing the nearly-healed scab in the middle of your forearm. Your eyes wince in pain, biting into your tongue muscle as a sort of relief from the pain. Soon, the effects kick in. You could feel the heat rise in the pit of your stomach, pushing your heart rate to a maximum. Every breath felt vile and disturbed. Your vision begins to blur, as you see the previous male’s form curled up on the floor. They’d injected him with the same shit. With each movement of your feet it felt like ten-thousand knives stabbing at your body. Your hands reach out, desperate to try and hold onto something to combat the excruciating pain. Mumbled and rung-drawn voices echo in your ears. This felt like hell. No, scratch that.

This was Hell.

Past the ringing and screams in your head, a few voices drew back into mind. One, being the professor’s shouts to the henchmen. Before they reached the wheezing hybrid, his body went still. Limbs, no longer grasping at the flooring for help. Chest, rid of its dry heaves.

The man dressed in black bent down, and checked his wrist. He sighs, standing up. Taking a glance at the professor.

“Dead.”

–

The grandfather clock stood against the wall. Tall and demanding was its stand. The little point of the hand ticks away, rounding until its final destination. Just to start over once more. Jimin takes in a deep breath while cracking out the pent of air bubbles between the joints in his knuckles. He’d been staring at the paperwork for the last four hours. Back curved into a position unnatural and unhealthy for creatures of any kind. He’s quick to rise, scooting the roll of his chair out from up under him. Back stretched out as much as he could muster, shaking off the aches between his shoulder blades. Reaching to pack up his things to close out the office for the night, until a quick-eyed man bursts through the gold-emblemed doors.

“Boss!”

Jimin lets out a groan, eyeing the out-of-breath male. His staggered beats of his chest, out of sync to his lips. His hair had looke dragged and rough, with the ends all frizzed up from his previous workout routines he loved to do.

“This better be good, Jungkook. Do you know how many papers I just had to sign?”

Jungkooks nods, huffing in a deep breath to calm himself. Once he’s settled down, he continues. “Taehyung’s got something on your emmadyne thingy.” Jimin’s eyebrows quirk up, quickly forgetting all of the grievances of his work he just had to suffer through.

“And?” He ticks, moving closer to Jungkook, crossing the gold-decorated tiles of the floors.

The younger’s face drops to a serious look. Brown eyes flicking with gold specs the way they do when he’s excited about something.

“They’ve got it.”

The two rush past the elongated halls. Meeting in the corridor which held the rest of his group. Yoongi’s head cranes towards the side, spoofing at the dramatic entrance.

“Slow down, you two. Jesus, where’s the fire?” He chuckles, snapping on the belts of his bulletproof vest. Tightening the straps in one go, as he shifts his working hands to the firearm holsters coiled around his thigh.

“In his eyes,” Namjoon quirks back, breaking his usual straight and unbothered demeanor, chuckling at their little joke. He too had been working on the bindings of their protective gear, making sure they'd be no way in penetration from any shot-gunning source.

“Ah, the most beautiful shade of boring brown I’d ever seen.” Hoseok flushes up behind Jimin’s tight figure, slinging around the leader of this operation.

“Shut up, all of you.” Jimin gripes, snatching up the extra vest for himself. They’d all sported some expensive looking attire. Namjoon’s figure had been wrapped in a nice, satin purple suit. The white button up collared shirt paired underneath his broad and built exterior. Jimin had always been secretly jealous of his hyung’s physique. Especially when he heard all of the screams and moans at two in the morning. He could swing anybody, and that pissed Jimin off the most.

“Ah, all’s in a good day’s fun, isn’t that right Jiminie?” Hoseok pokes, flashing a wide smile as he snaps the magazine of his pistol into place, cocking the small firearm before aiming it towards one of the members. Taehyung rolls his eyes at his meaningless threat.

“You do this every time, hyung.” He groans, belting up his jeans to fit around his circumfrenced hips.

Hoseok lowers the tip, before letting one shot echo through the room. He smirks at the shattered window’s glass, now scattered into pieces. They all whip around in shock.

“Huh, looks like someone’s getting more confident in his little toy guys, huh?” Yoongi jokes, letting out a deep breath before plopping into the comforting couch’s hold.

Jimin’s voice yells out, scolding the elder for shattering his windows. “Yah! Take your hoplophile ass out of my house before I bury you where that bullet landed!” The group all lets out a fit of chuckles, teasing at the younger male’s threat.

“Yeah yeah. Sure you would, Jimin-ah.” Namjoon breaks the semi-circle, making a bee-line towards the kitchen.

“Jimin, you rescued a baby bird from your backyard.” Jin comments, throwing the weight of his light bag across his shoulder in preparation. He walks past the younger, patting his shoulder gently.

“Yeah dude. We all know you’re just a big softie.” Taehyung quips, flashing a smile towards his best friend as he laces up his combat boots.

“Fuck you guys. I don’t even know why I let you in on this mission anyways.” Jimin gripes, angrily shuttling his feet into the comfort of his matte black combat boots. The set matches the rest of the member’s attires.

“Because you need us!” Namjoon teases, walking out the door with a little granola bar gripped in hand.

“Like hell I do! I could do this all by myself.” He yells out, sticking out his middle finger to the way that Namjoon had exited.

“No, no you couldn’t Jimin.” Jungkook finally chimes in before walking past his leader, saluting a pat on his back before following Namjoon out the door.

Today had gone by pretty quickly. More than the usual days. Today had just been filled with a white silence. With finishing the rest of your little series you’d started a few days ago. It had been about this cool place that had these things that could tell you all about the world in just a matter of seconds. With so many games that you usually play with the other numbers, but this had been on a little computer. It’s so tiny, you could hold it in your hands. It had shown pictures and drawings of how it worked. Actually, a few weeks ago, you’d try creating a little replica of the ‘device’ (that’s what they called it in your books anyways.)

You went to go show one of the other numbers, but they had just scoffed and walked away. You asked around the cares, who’d been taking care of you all. They had said it wasn’t real though. Saying that nothing that smart could fit into your pocket. She called it ‘fiction’.

You’d be a little sad after those few days. Finally accepting that they’re right. There was no way that something like that could ever exist. You let out a sigh, falling into the comfort of your little white bed. The book held close to your chest, smiling at the dreams you had of all the things you’d read about.

“It’s not real.” A frown peaks your features, fading your smile. You lean over, turning out the little press light that had been screwed to your side bed. You pull the comfort of your thick blanket over your shivering body, sighing as you begin to fall into a deep sleep, enjoying the peace and quiet.

A loud boom shakes you awake. Weird, high-pitched sounds echo the halls, your hands covering your sensitive ears. You whine out, pain feeling as if it was about to burst inside your head. You try to use the thick of your blanket to block out the loud noise, but it has been no use. The rest of the numbers had woken up, sharing the same reactions you’d experienced. A few muffled howls ran down the halls, as the male species had been crying out from the sounds. Your hands press against the shell of your ears, protecting the sensitive things from damage. A bright red light illuminates from the door’s lower crack, as the bolted and pad-locked door pops open. A woman’s monetized voice calls out repeatedly.

“All systems down. All systems down. Sector One, Two, Three and Four. Alert. Alert. All systems down.”

Your feet plop to the white floors, peaking out of the little doorway that had been swung open from the mechanics. Bodies rush past the halls, big and black heavy looking items cross their chests as they march in sync quickly through the corridors. Stomps and footsteps barely even touch the volume of the unfamiliar voice, and sirens blaring out. Your body slips past the groups of guards, head flicking back and forth as a puddle of red liquid pools at the soles of your feet. You gasp, seeing the gasping man’s hand outreach towards your paralyzed body. You quickly kneel down, barely able to keep your food down at his side’s seeping hole. The blood had been soaking through his black padded vest. His head flops to the side. Eyes running cold and lifeless. His body goes still, much like how the other male’s had done in the glass room. An icy shiver runs up your whole body, gagging at the stench of his drying blood puddle.

A door swings open, as more men rush through, not even taking notice of your knelt figure over this man’s dead body. A figure walks into the far away door entrance, coming back out with a large item in grip. A loud boom echoes once more, as the click of the large item pops back into place. He continues those motions, aiming the tip of the unusual object past your kneeled frame. An idea pops into your head.

Sneaking past the groups of people rushing by, you make it to the object room. The light above had been flickering, making your eyes strain from the unpatterned flashes. A man’s deep voice could be heard from the outside.

“She’s not in her board. Find her!”

You flinch, quick to grab anything and everything that you could easily hold onto. Running past those groups, a few yell out, as footsteps follow behind you. You wrap the thin cloth quick around your face, wiping the blood that had stained your hands onto the white of your knee-length dress. Your feet drag along the blood stained and dirty floors, ducking down, hiding from the swarms of officers.

Your stomach felt tight. The knot in your throat was about to burst. Heart pounding in your chest, as you clutch the skinny object to your chest, trying to calm your heavy breathing to keep quiet. The pain from the sirens had died down. Or maybe you’d just gotten used to it. Like everything in this place.

You take in a deep breath, ready for anything that comes your way.

“Damn it, Taehyung! I told you not to push that button!” The three run down the halls.

“Fuck! I knew we should’ve gone with sector B, fucking idiots!” Yoongi curses, as the three teammates rush through the elongated halls. Red lights spin with alarm, making all hairs on their bodies stand up.

“Yeah well if Taehyung hadn’t tried pressing all those damn buttons then we wouldn’t be in this hot shit!”

“Yah! How was I supposed to know that ‘red’ meant that the fucking alarms would turn on!?!”

“Don’t you know anything about the color red? Or buttons for that matter?? NEVER push the button! Especially if it’s red!”

“You two cut it out. We don’t have much time for your stupid lover’s quarrel.”

“We’re not fucking dating-”

“Yeah yeah. The whole ‘I hate Taehyung with everything in my guts and I want him to burn’ really isn’t all that threatening now. Especially from what I heard last night-”

“Shut up! All of you! God, it’s like I’m a fucking babysitter! Joon, you take Exit C. Taehyung, tag along. I don’t need you and Yoongi to kill each other. Just wait ‘til after the mission before you rip each other’s throats out.”

“Whatever.”

“Yoongi, You go check their command center. See if you can disable the alarm. See someone? Shoot them.”

“Damn,” Yoongi lets out a chuckle, popping one of his bullets into the guard's chest cavity with ease as he continues the conversation with his groupmates.

“Our Jimin-ah is growing up now?” He teases as the four of them run down through the halls.

“Hyung, shut the fuck up before-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll bury me next to Hoseok. You gotta come up with better threats, Jiminie. They’re really lacking in-” He cocks the pistol, capping one of the men in a millisecond without breaking eye contact with his younger friend.

“I’ll take Two.” Taehyung joins in, feet trudging behind as his chest heaves with exhaustion. For a bunch of fit looking men, they hadn’t been the best in shape. Well, maybe that had just been Taehyung. \

“Great,” Jimin comments, cocking the grip of his gun back, aiming it towards the floor before following a police officer's stance in firearms. “I’ll take One. Joon, you rush Three. Yoongi-”

“Yeah yeah I’ll take Four.”

The alarms had died down, but what little strength you held onto with that small object never faltered. You knew there had to be a way out of this place, you just didn’t know where. Eyes screwed shut, you try and think back to the very first time you’d been brought to this place.

___

A blinding light beams above, while the sound of clicking shoes echoes the barren halls. The white walls had been stained with an eerie and death-march like tone. Your stomach churned at the feeling.

A small framed woman stands sturdily at the little front desk, as your mother walks up to the counter, leaving you all alone. A few words were exchanged, and soon she’d been bending down to kiss your cheek.

The woman standing behind the desk had made her way to your side, and reached down to grab your arm. You immediately twist your body around, trying to free yourself of her grip. You watched as the flowing red skirt of your mother’s body had swayed with a final goodbye. Black tall heels clicked against the tiled floors, as the metal doors slam shut. You cry out, biting down onto the woman’s arm to race towards the door. Your young legs are still getting used to the motions of walking, much less running. Soon, they’d given out. Your body fell at the feet of the closed doors, as a set of two heavily armed men grip at your arms, binding your tiny hands with a device-like cuff. Your whole body screams out in pain. Feeling as if your soul was being ripped from your body.

______

That’s all you remembered. The woman you called home. Who fed you. Bathed you. Called you hers, had abandoned you. Throwing you into the closet with all the monsters, instead of telling you there are none. No kisses on your forehead, no being tucked in at night after a nice warm glass of milk.

Just complete darkness.

A deep voice echoes through the halls, as you’re pulled from the horrors of your childhood. Hand firmly gripping onto the little sharp object you’d possessed from one of the countertops in this crumbling place. The blood on your dress, a reminder to keep your mouth shut. No matter who had been in here, you knew it was to bring trouble.

______

Jimin’s hands trail along the counter’s messed up, once neatly filed paperworks, shoving the useless pieces off in search for his prized possession. He sighs, bending at the knees in hopes that there’s a safe somewhere in this dumpster fire of a shit-hole. Feeling all around for some sign of a capsule or armory to keep his family’s heirloom in.

“I swear to God if these mother fuckers- Ah!” A figure lunges from up under the desk as he falls backwards, back hitting the floor with a hard thud. Their hand reaches down, pressing the sharp point of a scalpel to the bottom of his throat. He’s quick to disarm the attacker, flipping the two over until he’s the one on top with the scalpel’s point to their throat. Their hands scratch and grip at his wrists, but it had been no use. His body towered there any day. Whether it be rain or shine, hail or thunder. Their voice whines out, high-pitched and scarred with fear. His thumb presses the tiny, makeshift knife deeper into their throat, watching as a trickle of blood drips down their skin. The figure’s arm's reach out. The loudest and most terrified scream echoed through the halls. Jimin’s quick to cup his hand over their mouth, silencing their cries.

His opposite hand grips onto their wrists, pinning them above to keep them still. His eyebrow quirks in question, feeling how thin and frail their wrists had been. As if they had been starved for days. His eyes flicker back down, a wet substance trickles down onto his cupped hand. The rounding lights had shone on the figure just enough to see that it had been-

Tears..?

His grip loosens, eyes squinting to adjust to the dimmed lights, trying to make out the person’s face. Maybe it had been a worker? His hand that cupped over their mouth had trailed down, feeling how thin their skin was. Half-healed scars stitch their exposed shoulder. His thigh shifts against the figure’s lower body, hand quickly dragging down to feel the hem of a paper-thin like dress.

A dress..

He quickly pulls the figure up from the ground, bounding their wrists to the front just for safe measure. His freed hand fumbled to the pockets inside his jeans, pulling a little flashlight from its confinement.

The small girl flinches, shielding her eyes from the blinding sudden light. She tries to pull away, but he keeps her in place. The blood decorated her neck like a disgusting accessory he’d caused. Though, she didn’t look like she’d been that well looking before this meeting. The bags under her doe-like, glassy eyes droop with malnourishment and exhaustion. His eyes glance down, widening at her gault and thinned proportions. Skin as if it hadn’t seen the sunlight in decades. Her hair was thinned and drab looking. However, the most heart-wrenching thing he’d seen of hers,

The fear, crystal clear in her eyes.

Her mouth fell open as if to say something, but nothing came out. She kept struggling against his grip, kicking and flailing around like a toddler pitching a tantrum. More with fear than anger.

“Hey, hey- easy!” Her whole body pulls back, trying to escape his tight grip bounding her wrists. She hadn’t given up this fight, that’s for sure. Her head was shaking left and right as she was being exercised. However, he could feel her body weakening with each tug and pull to fight what little effort he’d been using in holding her.

“Hey, hey it’s okay, sweetie..” Her efforts weren’t letting up. Extending his freed hand outwards, his palm presses lightly against her burning cheek. He rises to prop up on his knees, lowering his voice in trying to signal peace.

“Easy, girl.. You’re okay.” Her chest heaves with might, but the strength within her body finally gives in. Her lips roll heavy breaths, as the struggles against his hold finally let up. His eyebrows knit together at the sight of her small gash against the base of her neck. He reaches down, using the scalpel to rip a small opening in a blood dripped white button up, tearing a piece of material from the suit’s fabric, folding the little cloth to fit over the open wound. She flinches, leaning back, as far away as possible.

“Look, it’s for your neck.” He holds the little piece of material up to his own neck, giving a demonstration of what he’ll be doing. “It’s to help..” She hesitates a second, before snatching the material from his grip, placing it herself. Her eyes take a glance over, watching as he reaches up above the desk, pulling a roll of tape down with him. His quick and genuine smile flashes, like a peaceful white flag during a war.

“Keep it in place. It’s tape.” He coos, snapping a piece off with the plastic sharps at the end, holding the roll in place. The little flimsy, clear strip sticks to the tip of his middle finger, stilling until she gives consent. Taking the strip for herself, she places it against the cloth, wincing from the minor sting.

“See? Not so bad, huh? Now,” He rises from the floor, taking a look around the room while commenting. “Stay here while I look for something.” His head tilts down, eyes locking onto hers. The wisp of her baby hairs stick to her forehead from a great amount of sweat. A smile curves his lips.

He bends down to prop himself up on one knee, patting the crown of her hair. “Think you can do that for me?” A low growl rumbles deep from her chest, but her head nods nonetheless. “Good girl.” He stands once more taking in a deep breath while stifling through the piles of paperwork scattered throughout the lab. His fingers brush past a few strange dips in the flooring, as a smirk curves his lips.

“Ah, there you are.” He proudly smiles, tucking the small jewel into his zipper pocket. As he turns to round the medical table, her small woman’s body stands tall and straight as the scalpel’s tip threatens to slit his throat. Her eyes burn with passion, greater than he’s ever seen. Voice raspy, but clear enough to make out what she’s trying to get across.

“O-Outside.”

His eyebrow quirks in confusion, tilting his head to the side. “You want me outside?” Her head shakes, taking in a deep breath to build up her confidence once more.

“Outside.” Her voice is clearer than ever. Her tone had touches of confidence, but fear had drenched whatever fire had ignited for even just a few seconds. His hands lower to his side, pressing his bulletproof vest deeper against the tip of the scalpel.

“Are you really trying to threaten me, sweetheart?” He watches the lump in her throat being swallowed agonizingly slow. She shakes her head, throwing the scalpel to the side to grip the collar of his white collar button up. His eyes widen, watching the once neutral colored irises melt into a dark, crimson.

“Take. Out. Side.”

___

The sirens blare loudly into your sensitive ears. The closer he led you to what you could only hope was the end, your body felt weaker. His hand is tight on yours, as you both are running through the halls. Avoiding dips, craters and fallen objects that had ridden more than half the staff.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” He reaches behind, pressing his palm into your back for more support. He could tell you’d become weak, given how much adrenaline you’d been taking on, the loud noises, and the energy you’d used up trying to fight him off. Taken, that it’s 1am as well. He’s surprised you haven’t passed out from exhaustion yet.

His hand extends outwards, pushing on the heavy metal door. Reaching back to pull you with his body. Suddenly, a scream echoes through the halls, louder than any of the blaring sirens that had been going off for the past thirty minutes. Your body collapses to the floor, a high-pitched screech rips from your chest, falling back into the painless comfort of the building.

“What are you doing!? We’ve gotta go-” He bends down, pulling you further into the building until your back hits the front desk. His eyes scan all over your body, seeing that there had been no harm done. Until, his fingers ran over a little lump just above the nape of your neck.

“Fuck..” He curses under breath, reaching into the pocket of his trousers, pulling out his cellphone quickly. “Of course they’d fucking chip you.”

Your eyes burn with tears, hands flying to grip at anything you could get comfort from. That, just so happened to be his barely visible white button up sneaking underneath his padded black vest. Much like the guards had worn. Voice brittle and frail as you repeat the unfamiliar sound.

“Ch-chip?”

His glares soften when met with your terrified stature. “It’s okay.. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

After a dial tone later, he starts talking to someone other than you.

“Damn it!” His voice is uncontrolled with anger, as he slides his phone back into its confinement. Eyes searching yours for some sort of answer, yet he can only think of one solution.

“Do you trust me?”

…

“Hurry up, Kook!” Namjoon calls out, standing outside of the laboratory’s control center.

“It’s not easy re-coding a whole program, Hyung!” Jungkook gripes back, rolling his eyes at his older’s high expectations of their mission.

“Well hurry up. You said that the device would only give us a couple of minutes!” Namjoon groans, trying to calm the erratic beats in his chest, as he reaches into the strap coiled around his thigh, pulling out his phone.

“Hello?” Jimin's voice sounded furious on the other line. “Yeah Kook’s working on it right- wait- slow down. We- lemme ask him.” Namjoon lowers the phone, yelling out. “Kook, can you disable the chips?”

Jungkook’s head peaks out in utter confusion. “Yeah sure hyung. Which ones, Doritos or Lays?” Namjoon’s eyes roll at his sarcasm.

“Not funny, Jimin’s found a hybrid. They’re near Sector B’s exit, but she’d chipped.”

“Why can’t she just, ya know? Leave.” Jungkook's voice is flat and sprinkled with a hint of annoyance. Namjoon groans, holding the phone out for him to have a little chat with the mission leader.

“Hello? Oh, Jimin. Uh- oh shit.. Uhm yeah I’ll see if I can shut it down.” Jungkook’s fingers make quick work on the computer’s keys, tying in every code his older brother had ever mentioned. An error message pops up, making Jungkook groan. He holds the phone to his ear once more, explaining the situation.

“It’s inviolable..”

“English for God’s sake, Jungkook.” Jimin gripes, waiting for the translation.

“It means I can’t break it. The chip’s coding isn’t even here.”

“Then where the hell is it?”

Jungkook squints, trying to decode the coordinates to an exact place. “Somewhere in California..?”

“We’re in SOUTH KOREA.” Jimin yells, making even Namjoon’s slouched posture straighten.

“You’ll have to remove it physically, hyung.”

___

“T-trust..?” You haven’t heard that word since you’d been brought to this place. The nurse who worked the front desk had promised your safety here, asking the same thing he is.

Jimin takes your hand in his, trying to get all of your focus to set on him instead of what’s going down around the two of you. “Trust. It means that you put your faith in me to help you out of here.”

“Why.. trust?” He could tell by the way you’re pulling further away, that you’d been teetering on the edge of just getting up and running away. He knew that’d do you or him no good, so he settled for explaining some more. Not that he had the time for this, anyways.

“Your neck,” He points to the back of your head, finger brushing along the little bump of your spine along your nape. “It has a chip in it that they put, so that they know where you are. You can’t leave without getting rid of it.” Your eyes flick back and forth, trying to process it all.

“How.. get.. rid?” Somehow, you already knew the answer.

“I.. take it out.” His voice is stern and controlled, unlike it had seemed earlier. He’s trying anything he can to make sure you don’t freak out right now. He wouldn’t blame you if you did. He watches the way your eyes guide themselves towards his concealed pocket knife, the lump in your throat thickening.

“No..” Your head shakes. “N-No.. other way.” Looking around, you search for anything else to not have to do this. His hands reach out to steady your shoulders, forcing your eyes to lock with his.

“We don’t have a lot of time here.” Your eyes stung with tears. His heart breaks at the sight, only furthering his determination of getting you both out of here. “It’ll be quick, okay?” Your head shakes sporadically, hairs flying left and right by the motions.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” His voice softens, lightly keeping your head still by taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. “What’s your name?” His simple question only makes the tears stream faster. The pain in your heart hurt more than anything physical you’d felt.

“I-I don’t know..” Even with everything going on, the sirens, alarms, howls and goans, gunshots and screams, he still had kept his composure. Acting as if this had just been a daily thing to do. Rip out a ‘chip’ from someone’s neck with a knife.

“Okay, okay. What’s something you love?”

Love?

Your memories flush through, skimming over anything that had caused you pain, whether mentally or physically. Then, it stops.

Nothing comes to mind.

You shake your head, silently crying as you realize that you have no good memories. All of your permanent ones are in this monster house.

His brows knit in concern, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing?”

“Okay, then. Your name is..” He looks around the destroyed entrance, watching as a few wires hang low, sparking ever so often. “Uh… Shit. Lilac, okay?” Your head leans to the side in confusion. He stumbles over his words, questioning how he’s gonna explain this one. “It’s a flower. Got it?”

“My.. name?”

“Yes, it’s Lilac. Just until we find out what your real name is, okay?” You hesitantly nod, settling your hands clasp into your lap. He takes a deep breath, trying to keep composed for both of your sakes. His hand brushes over the handle of his concealed pocket knife, mapping out his strategy in his head before putting it to action. “You ready?”

Your head nods, twisting around to allow him access to your nape. Your hair flipped over so nothing would be obstructing his view. Before he presses the tip of his knife to your neck, your hand reaches down to clasp over his free hand, muttering three little words that make his heart sink.

“I trust you.”

“Alright, got it!” Jungkook exclaims in victory, grabbing the little flashdrive he’d bought a few months back specifically for this mission. He quickly paces out of the control center’s door frame, being met with Namjoon’s back against the wall while a little white stick had been caught between his two lips.

“Really? Smoking on the job, dude?” Jungkook scoffs at his hyung’s behavior, stuffing the little flash drive down into his jean pocket. Namjoon’s posture straightens, releasing the little white bud of tightly wrapped nicotine to the floor, his shoe stomping out what little embers burned.

“Don’t dude your owner, dude.” He retorts, as Jungkook’s eyes roll at the rebuttal.

“Legally, you’re only my owner.” Namjoon’s lips tug into a smirk, throwing an arm around Jungkook’s tightened shoulders.

“Such a cute little puppy, isn’t that right~” He teases, ruffling Jungkook’s box-dyed locks that had concealed his ears better.

“Call me a puppy again and I’ll rip your balls from your dick.” Jungkook’s empty threat leaves a chuckle to roll from Namjoon’s lips, leading the two out towards the exit. Just before they were out, Jungkook’s ears perked up to the sound of a familiar screech. They both exchange a quick, worried look before making their way towards the noise.

___

“F-F-MA!” You couldn’t even find the words. Hands digging into the fabrics of your soaked dress, trying to stay still as much as possible as Jimin’s knife cuts deeper past the tissue. One hand stays flat against the freshly opened wound, while the other makes quick work of unbuckling his belt and holding it to your mouth.

“Bite.” He commands.

You’re quick to obey, trying to reach backwards for any support you could get. Your hands land into his lap, your knuckles tinting white from the pressure. His lips fall apart when one of your hands squeezes his cock on accident, making him bite back a moan. He’s quick to remove your hands, and instead place them on his bulletproof vest.

Your whines and moans didn’t help after that, that’s for sure.

“Almost got it,” He adds, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Whatever you do, don’t move.” His free hand reaches into the medical pouch of his mission bag, pulling out two alcohol wipes. Sterilizing his index and thumb, they’re inserted into the medium sized incision he’d made. The high-pitched scream you let out leaves his ears feeling like they’re on the verge of bleeding.

A few footsteps are introduced, as Namjoon’s gruff voice echoed through the corridor. “What the fuck was that!?”

“What does it fucking look like I’m doing!?” Jimin snaps back, trying to focus on detaching the chip. Jungkook’s body comes to sit in front of yours, criss-crossing the same way you’d sat. His hand takes yours, rubbing soothing circles around to ease the pain.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.. Just breathe.” His heart fucking shatters when you look up through glassy and red eyes. The pain he felt just by looking at this disaster had his stomach on the verge of letting go of today’s lunch. Your eyelids flutter to stay awake, as the black leather belt that had been stuffed into your mouth is practically bitten through all the way. Incisor teeth marks press into the lux item. He could feel the way your body was on the edge of just giving up.

“Hyung- Hyung hurry up!” Jungkook’s voice is riddled with panic now, watching as the blood soaked tears stain your cheek like a nasty case of rosacea.

Jimin’s fingertips latch onto the little device, slowly pulling out so as to not cause any permanent damage. “I’ve got it - Namjoon, grab the alcohol” He’s quick to hand the leader the requested item, watching wearily.

Jungkook’s hand reaches up to scratch your dirtied, once cream white fluffy ears, making a high-pitched whine roll through your chest. He smiles, continuing to praise you highly. “Good job, uhh.. Girl?”

Once Jimin’s got the gauze pad secured to the wound, he quickly helps you stand, putting all of your weight against his body, as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You did it,” He whispers, as the other two males hold the door open to let you through.

___

“Should we wake her?” One of the voices is tuned with a filter sounding as if they’d been talking under the water.

“No, guys. She needs rest. I’m literally in shock at how she wasn’t dead yet.” You could move a bit. Wiggling your big toe first, up your leg, until finally you could peel back your eyelids. The room had blurred out, taking a few seconds to clear. Suddenly, you’re surrounded by a whole group of men. Some, you’d recognized already. A man with purple hair comes to stand by your side, reaching down shine a bright light into your eyes.

“Y/n?” His voice calls out, holding up a set of fingers. “How many fingers do you see?”

“She’s illiterate, hyung.” One of the voices retorted, folding his arms across his chest. The man had electric blue hair that looked as if he’d been a rockstar himself.

“No, she just can’t speak English well, idiot.” Another responds. This one looked familiar. Jet-black curly hair, and a bunch of weird drawings on his right arm. He flashes a quick smile your way, passing through all of the other men to stand by your bed. “How are you feeling, Y/n?”

Who’s Y/n?

Your eyebrow raises in confusion, stopping your searches when your eyes land upon his figure. Much more cleaned up and presentable, the man adorned a pair of simple dark-washed jeans, along with a black T-shirt that hugged his prominent muscles. His brown, puppy-like hair lays damp against his forehead, brushing it out of his face. You quickly sat up, making the rest of the bunch yell in protest for your sudden action.

“Woah woah woah! Girly you were just at Death’s Doorstep, I don’t want you making another move!” The man wearing a corded heartbeat thing around his neck commands, but you didn’t care. You’re quick to fumble over the white comforter’s crumbled up fabric, falling towards the blonde hair man. His arms reach out to catch you, as he lets a chuckle roll from his lips.

“Easy, girl.” Your arms snake around his neck, pressing your whole body flushed against his. Tears rolling down your cheeks, as you finally have what you’d been wanting all your life.

Freedom.

“Yeah- we’ll just.. Give you two a minute.” The weird heartbeat tube guy guides the rest of the group out of the room, as he tries to peel you away. Your grip stays anaconda-tight, not letting up.

“Okay- Y/n you can let go now.” Your nose buried deep into the side of his neck, inhaling his vanilla and jasmine scent that you’d somehow missed, even though you didn’t even know this man’s name.

“Y/n, it’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His palm rubs soothing circles into the plains of your back, earning a low mewl from your lips.

You both stayed there for around five minutes. After time passed, your grip started to lighten up, until you’d finally released. His plump lips roll off a cute chuckle, the pad of his thumb stroking a line across your cheek.

“You good now?” He coos, taking one of your fluffy ears in hand to scratch gently. The gentle touch of his warm fingers made your stomach do summersaults. Your head nods, making a smile tug to the corner of his lips.

“Alright, teddy bear. Jin said that you can go ahead and take a bath.” Your head tilts, raising an eyebrow.

“B..Bath?” Now it’s his turn to be the confused one.

“You’ve never had a bath before? How’d they wash you guys in that place?” Your lips fall flat, not know how to answer that question. They did like everyone else, sprayed them down for a few seconds with some water, gave them a soap bar, and just sprayed them again.

His head shakes, pulling you off the bed to help you go ahead and get your land legs back. Your right arm catches onto his forearm, gripping tightly for support. His opposite hand comes down to ground your lower back, making sure that you can’t fall forwards or back.

“Easy, one foot at a time.” You follow his steps, as the two of you count together. Soon, you’re met with a different atmosphere. One much nicer than the bathroom you had back at your home. Or.. ‘center’ as the man liked to call it.

“My.. name.” Your head cranes to the side, as he lowers your body for you to sit on the toilet’s lid. He reaches down to plugging the tub’s drain, turning on the water.

“Your name?” He questions, pacing around the bathroom quickly to grab shampoo, towels, and some plastic wrap Jin had left for the two. He lowers down to the tub’s edge, propping up against the side while waiting for the bath to fill.

You nod. “No.. No. Your name.” Your voice was small and hoarse, hand trailing along the nearly healed scar across the bottom of your throat. Jimin’s eyes soften at the sight, remembering the past few days.

“I’m sorry for that.. and- my name's Jimin.” His hands extend outwards to offer help in standing. Your body resists movement. His lips roll out a deep sigh, tearing off a piece of the clear, thin plastic to keep the water from seeping to the stitches.

“You can’t take a bath with your dress, silly.” His voice raises an octave to try and push away the somber memories from a few days ago. Your head starts pounding, as the sounds, images and smells start to all come crawling back.

“Fuck..” You mumble, making the man let out a deep chuckle.

“That’s a new word, huh?” You nod, moving the lengths of your locks out of his way for him to dress the wounds once more. He backs away, standing tall next to the cracked door. “I’ll be out here if you-”

“No!” You cry out, body immediately trembling at the thought of him leaving you. Not again, not ever.

“But- don’t you want privacy to undress?”

“What.. privashe?”

He bends at the knees, laying down a towel to catch the water when you’re finished. His eyes glance up, catching your own through thick eyelashes. “Privacy is.. Nobody’s with you when you’re.. You know.” Your head shakes to the side, denying the word.

“We.. blue all.” His eyebrows knit together, trying to turn the gears to translate your broken english.

“Blue..?”

You point up to the ceiling, adding “Room.”

“Ah, so you showered in a blue room? All together?” You nod, smiling in victory. His smile however, showed no sign of genuinity.

___

His chin rests atop the tub’s edge, padding the hard surface with a rolled up washcloth. He admires the way your child-like innocence shines through when the bubble of the water starts to form. Hand guiding your hair back to not ruin your fun, a smile pressing his lips/

“So you’re telling me that they didn’t even let you play with cards?” You nod, slipping your under body underneath the bubbly waters so as to not reveal too much.

“We.. like.. Word.” His head tilts to the side, watching as your hands cup into a little bowl, blowing the pop-able bubbles into his face. He flinches away, laughing alongside you.

“You mean read?” His questions make your head do its little ‘definition, please’ tilt. It’s what he liked to call it, anyways.

“Read..Uhm- Yes. I we read.” Your lips crease to a smile, leaning forwards to wipe some of the bubbles onto the tip of his nose.

“No, it’s ‘I like to read.�� Try it.”

“Try it.” You repeat.

“No-” He facepalms, making your breath buble out in a cute giggle. “You say, ‘I like to read.’.”

“I.. like to read?” The sentence felt foreigner on your tongue. Usually you wouldn’t have to know these many words in the center. You’d be able to just communicate through thoughts and howls, but he hadn’t understood any of those. Yet.

“Mhm, good job.” He lifts the cup to scoop up some clean water from the running pipes, dumping it onto your head, as you let out a slight yelp.

“Fuck!” He bends over laughing at your shriek. Lips parted in humor, watching as your face falls confused.

“What?”

“You- that’s not a good word, Y/n.” He comments, laughter beginning to die down for a few moments.

“Why?”

He sighs, resuming to wash your hair. Leaning over, his face is met with yours from the side. “It’s a bad word. We don’t say it all the time, okay?” Your lips curve into a smirk.

“Fuck.” You test.

“Y/n, What’d I just say?”

Your shoulders shrug, silently patting yourself on the back for creating this little game. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

His lips tighten, expression falling flat as the tone in his voice begins to shift. “Stop saying that, Y/n. I mean it.”

With one breath, you lean forwards, lips barely brushing against his as you let the sound flow one last time.

“Fuck.”

…

The living room had grown quiet. Everyone sat sprawled all across the central area, waiting for any sign that it had been okay to rejoin with the newest addition to their bunch.

"I say we order twice the dosage of heat-supressants from Jungkook’s guy.” Jin comments, lips wrapping around the ring of his second soju bottle of the night.

“Well what if she wants to have heats? That’s like forcing a girl to go on birth-control. It should be her choice.” Namjoon adds, turning to the next page in his anthology novel. A warm mug of tea sat perfectly next to him on the side table. Jungkook’s head hangs off the couch, as his body is twisted upside down. His eyes trained on the Television that’d been playing for the past hour.

“Yeah, but we don’t need any hybrid babies around here. Especially since Jungkook’s breed is close to her’s.” Jin’s addition makes a few heads turn, especially that of the maknae himself.

“We’re all at the same risk as I am hyung. She’s half human, too.” Jungkook bites back, a bitter taste in his mouth resides at Jin’s comment towards you.

“I think the little tyke’s onto something,” Out of the small gathered bunch, Yoongi’s voice is next to follow in pursuit of this conversation. His own poison of choice being a chilled glass of whiskey on the rocks. Courtesy of Jimin’s little addiction, he must admit. “We all have the same urge to fuck her.”

Their heads all turn towards the elder, as he raises an eyebrow at the sudden attention.

“Way to be subtle with it, Yoongs.” Hoseok interrupts, sliding the edge of his pocket knife into the safety of its latch. “But he’s right. The maknae only got a little leverage because he’s more similar to her than we are. Biology wins in this case.” Hoseok reaches back behind himself to snatch the little glass from Yooongi’s grip, taking a swig in one go.

“don't high-jack my shit, you damn thief." Yoongi gripes, snatching back his rightfully made liquor from the younger male.

"Don't shit on my high-jack, you fucking sloth." Hoseok bites back, sticking his tongue out at the man he's called 'friend' for the past four years.

"Stick that tongue back at me and I'll rip it out so fast you won't even have time to cry out for your dead mommy." Hoseok's glare hardens back at his hyung's comment, making the whole atmosphere shift.

"Too far, asshole."

"ALRIGHT, you two. Knock it off. We've got bigger fish to fry here." Namjoon cuts in the middle before someone loses a dick. "Tae, what do you think we should do?" The man's head cranes to the side, forcing himself to pull away from the game he's almost won.

"Uhh. What was the question again?" They all groan in unison, watching as Hoseok throws a pillow towards the second to youngest. Taehyung's quick to dodge it, letting out a soft chuckle. "Your aim really bites, hyung. Surprised you've off-ed so many people with that kinda coordination.

"Yeah fuck you too, Tae." Hoseok groans. Taehyung sends a wink towards the elder.

"When and where, baby boy?~"

"Jesus I can't handle all this gay shit." Yoongi stands up, going to himself another drink. Taehyung chuckles, sending yoongi off with a few more words.

"Hyung, you're like the definition of gay. Don't even try it." Hoseok nods, agreeing with the younger male.

"Yea?" Yoongi settles back down, this time plopping next to Namjoon for some familiarity. "Bisexual, people. Ain't limited to one or the other, so taehyung, fuck off."

The commotion paused with a loud bang from upstairs. The group takes a look up, discussing who'll they'll be sending to go check it out.

"One two three NOT IT-"

They look around, laughing at the slowest member. "Damn it! I was waiting for Deadpool to show up guys!" Jungkook groans, pausing his movie to stand and make his way up the stairs.

••

"You are just a little daredevil, aren't you?" Jimin chuckles, watching you struggle trying to blow the tape off from your lips.

"N-uh uh. You keep that mouth of yours shut until you can learn to talk properly, understand?"

Even though you hadn't really, your eyes lulled back in annoyance. Hands reaching up to rip off the tape, but his quick reflexes prove to be faster. "Now that's not how you learn, is it?" A dark aura melts away his once soft and glowy exterior, trailing along something much more intense. His palm wraps around your wrist, a smirk presses his lips. "Don't make me have to tie up these hands too." Something burning inside made you quickly kneel down to submit, not even having time to make a peep. He takes it as a sign of your health depleting.

"Y/n? Get up off the floor, sweetie." His arms come to lift your from the floor, straightening the oversized T-shirts he'd let you borrow, promising to take you shopping in the morning for some of your own things.

Your ears perk up to height, craning your neck to the side quickly. Jungkook's movements hault, noticing what little you'd been dressed in. "Uh- we heard a loud sound and wanted to make sure that you were okay." His eyes trail along your figure, dipping from every hidden curve and wave he could somehow see. The shirt hadn't been translucent at all, in fact.

"Yeah we're fine. Someone taught her a not so nice word so I'm teaching her." Jimin comments, using a black, square shaped brush to comb through your hair, careful to avoid your protruding ears that had been on high alert towards the maknae. Jungkook's eyes narrow with a 'don't look at me like that' kind of expression, making you hesitantly back off after a few seconds.

"Anyways, namjoon hyung wanted to speak with you downstairs in a few minutes." He adds, before making his way back down the steps. Jimin lets out a sigh, taking a few strands of hair, running his fingers along the lengths. "There. Does that feel better?" You nod, turning back around to flash a smile. He mirrors yours, tilting his head down in question. "Are you going to behave now?" Your eyes trail off, pretending to think for a second.

"Y/n.." he threatens, as you giggle through the tape, nodding.

"I don't want you saying that word again, do you understand?" He peels back the tape for an answer.

"Yes."

"What'd you need to speak with me for, hyung?" Jimin questions, as you curl up next to his side, nuzzling into the comfort of a hoodie he'd thrown on before you two made your way down the stairs.

Namjoon's eyes take your strange behavior, lifting an eyebrow. "We need to discuss, well- that." He points towards you, making your face scrunch with annoyance. Jimin glances down, scratching behind your ears to calm you down.

"You mean 'her'. She has a name, hyung."

"Yes yes I know, jimin. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about her behavior."

"Her.. behavior?"

Namjoon let's out a sigh, motioning for jungkook to come over and sit in the floor next to namjoon. "From one hybrid owner to another, you need to start thinking about if you're going to get her on suppressants or not. The sooner, the better." You watch as jungkook's eyes roll at Namjoon's comment, sticking his tongue out at the older man.

"Only legally, dumbass." Jungkook bites back, sticking his tongue out at his owner. Namjoon stares down the younger man, immediately shutting him up.

"Su..press..ants?" You take the words, trying to combine the together. However, they felt weird on your tongue, especially coming from your lips.

"Yes, suppressants, Y/n. When was your first heat?" His question leaves you stumped. What's a heat?

"Today. Bath." You smile, looking to your man to see if you got the answer right. He smiles, thumbing your cheek gently. Namjoon let's out a breath.

"No, Y/n. A heat is where-"

"I think that's enough for tonight."

"Jimin, you know how important this is to discuss-"

"Yeah, I do. Jungkook," his head turns in response, perking up. "Go play with Y/n for a few minutes." Your face scrunched in dislike at the idea. Hands reaching over to lock into place with Jimin’s to keep from leaving with Jungkook.

"No," you protest the thought. "Stay. Jimin." Your lips quiver, begging both of the men for you to stay.

"Jungkook, explain what a heat is for Y/n." Namjoon commands, as the maknae's throat tightens.

"Uh- I don't uhm- I… No." Jungkook stands walking away from this conversation quickly to avoid that conversation.

Namjoon sighs, lowering his head in annoyance. "Jimin, either get her on suppressants or find another place for her."

The night creeper in quicker than day had gone. Bright suns tied into invisible knots in the dark sky, as you sat on the bay window's cushion, admiring the glow of night. A creaking door perks your ears. You turn around, flashing a bright smile when you notice who it is.

"Whatchya doing?" He questions, settling down next to you on the cushions. Your hands drag along the cold winter's window pane, a slight chill running up your spine from the temperature drop. Head tilting to the side, your eyes trail over the moonlights bright illuminates shining upon his features. The chocolate brown irises glow with amusement to match your own.

"You know, they say if you wish upon a shooting star, then your wish will come true." Your head peaks at the idea. Immediately knowing what you'd wish for.

"Shoot..ting star?" He nods, pointing out towards the night's chilly blanket of curiosity.

"It flies across the sky like a really fast rocket.and when you see it, you make a quiet wish and poof! Your dream comes true." A 1,000-watt smile brightens up your face, as you deeply squint towards the sky, trying to look for anything that moves. Jimin lets out a chuckle, reaching up to drag his palm along the curve of your head. Fingers combing through your halfway dried strands, a smile similiar to yours peaks up. Only this one hadn't been towards the flying stars.

"I SEE!" You exclaim, pressing the tip of your finger against the glass. He's quick to sit up, nodding and points as well.

"Quick, make a wish!~" your hands clasp together in a prayer-like form, eyes closing as your lips mumble a few simple words.

"I wish to stay."

Morning peaks through like a little kid waking up bright and early on Christmas morning. Your eyes peel open, watching as the little dust particles float for a bit in the sun's bright rays. Everything had felt perfect.

You quickly rush down the stairs, eager to greet everyone a warm hello, only to find an empty house. Feeling as if some hadn't woken up yet, your feet trail along the halls like Anna from Frozen, just to be met with silence.

Knocking upon each door with no answer. The final door you knock upon is the one who you'd been wanting to see the most. Twisting the knob, you decided to take a peak in.

"Jimin?" You call out, watching as the sun's similar rays shine into his room as well. The gray comforter laid neatly on top of the bedsheets gave a sense of emptiness. His room hadn't been that outdone. With a large king bed placed on the side, and a huge desk sat in the middle facing from the window, it looked almost as if he was the most well-off man alive. The chrome outlines of his bed frame screamed 'look at me, I have money', which made your heart sink.

Had he been out with someone else?

The thought made your stomach churn with angst. Closing the door back, you decide to go make something for the boys to enjoy when they return. Switching on the old gramophone Jimin kept in his living room, you dance around the kitchen while whipping up a good stack of chocolate chip pancakes.

After about an hour's worth of cooking and baking, you'd felt worn out. Clearing the kitchen of any mess you'd disrupted Jin's wonderful organization with, you take a stroll through the rest of the place.

"Get her to take one dose every morning and every night. Keep track of when her heat will be too. On those days, you double the dosage, because her body will be fighting extra hard against them." The doctor extends out a white paper bag with further instructions and your prescription embedded inside. Namjoon pats Jimin on the back, as they make their way out of the hospital. When they're in the comfort of their vehicle, namjoon continues.

"It's for everybody's good, Jimin. Plus, the doctor said it will regulate her emotions better." Jimin's eyes drain off into the distance, blocking out the drowning sounds of Namjoon's Pros list for getting to take the supplements.

It was for your own good, he reminded himself.

Your feet dangle off the side of the bed, while one of his books held tightly in your grip. Your voice sounding out the words for better comprehension. Suddenly, your ears perk to the sound of a car pulling into the drive. You twist off the bed, rushing down the stairs as quickly as possible, falling into the first person's body you see.

"Uhm- I'm not Jimin, Y/n." Jungkook whines, feeling the grasp of your hug squeeze him like a boa constricter's lunch. You release, head peaking behind his body in search for the man you'd been desperately needing to see.

Jungkook sets the groceries onto the counter, letting out a sigh as he watches you pace back and forth between the two front door windows. "How long has he been gone?" He questions, popping the tab on a Coke to take a sip.

Your feet rush back and forth, head and eyes swiveling every which way on hopes that he'd be here faster. "Too long." You're quick to reply, not really caring in the conversation with the other hybrid.

"Y/n, I think you should back off a bit." His comment makes your body twist with anger. Turning on a heel, your face immediately falls straight.

"You, back off." Biting back, you're head turns to face the two large front doors, pacing once more. Jungkook let's out a sigh, shaking his head, making his way up the stairs.

After a few seconds drip by, there'd still been no sight of your man. Well, not your man- fuck that yes he is your man and if any other bitch tries to come at him you'll rip their-

"Y/n?" Jungkook's voice makes your thoughts hide for a second. You groan, already pissed off enough from the stupid wolf-hybrid.

"What?" Turning around, you're immidiently caught with the sight of Jimin's shirt in his hand. Jungkook holds out the peice of cloth, making your nose twitch in excitement.

"How does this make you feel?" He questions, shoving the shirt closer to your nose. Fuck, is he trying to kill you? Are you going to kill him? Probably.

"F-fine." You hesitantly answer, knowing damn well that ain't just making you feel 'fine'. Jungkook's eyebrow raises in suspicion, swaying Jimin's shirt in front of you like a little fucking serpent.

"Mhm, yeah sure." His nose scrunches in disgust, tossing the shirt into your lap. "God, Y/n. You don't think I can't smell how wet you are right now?" Your throat clumps, desperately trying to swallow the dry spell caught. Jungkook scoffs, plopping down onto the couch adjacent to you. "Jimin went with Namjoon to get your supplements. I'd suggest you go take a shower before he gets back."

You'd been too busy smelling the whole damn shirt to notice Jungkook's last few comments. The scent of Jimin's masculine bur delicate vanilla jasmine had your stomach aching for more. Body no longer in control, as you begin to succumb to this unknown power that had overcome you.

Just as you were about to finally go take Jungkook's advice and leave the shirt, a small slam of a door perks your ears. This time, you're more desperate than ever for Jimin to finally come home.

"Yeah man, that whole show was crazy. Did you see how Lee suk-yun made that field pass?" Hoseok's voice made the fire in your stomach recoil with disgust. He and Jin both make their way through the door, as you stand in the corner, waiting patiently by the window. Hoseok's eyebrow quirks in confusion at your strange behavior, glancing over to the maknae who'd been trying to avoid the pup all along.

"She's in heat."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP I NOT" you scream out, slamming your hand against the window pane. Watching as the whole frame shatters into a thousand pieces. They all turn in shock. Watching as your body heaves with anger.

"What the hell, Y/n??" Hoseok gripes, echoing a low growl from your chest. Jungkook quickly rises, interfering between the space of you and the rest.

"Easy, Y/n. Jimin will be home in just a few minutes." Jungkook's voice is calming, yet all you had felt was rage. Then, a wave of emptiness washes over you. Your body fall to the floor, glass cutting deep wounds on your shins, but you didn't care. It didn't feel nearly as bad as the pain you felt from Jimin absen-

"Woah, who did this?" His voice makes your spring up, running to the side of the door, jumping into his arms. He's quick to catch your weight, arms holding you up by just your thighs. The prescription bag dropped to the floor, as they all watched in curiosity at your nose nuzzling into his neck, scenting the fuck out of him.

"Nice to see you too, Y/n." He chuckles, leaning over to set you down. You don't budge an inch. His eyebrow quirks, taking a glance over to jungkook who'd been standing right infront of Hoseok and Jin. "What's going on with her?"

"She in heat, Jimin." His eyes blow wide at the realization.

"N-Now?" Jungkook nods.

"She punched the stain glass window because you were taking too long." Jimin cranes his head to the side, trying to get a word from you about all of this.

"Y/n, is that true?" You nod, moaning against his neck, trailing bites and suckles along his skin. This side of his neck practically turning purple in just a matter of seconds.

His throat clears, trying to pry himself from your grip. Jungkook lets out a chuckle.

"Good fucking luck trying to get her off, Jimin. Took me 6 hours to finally get Yenji off my back." He comments, walking away from the whole situation. In all honesty, the stench of your love for Jimin made his nose burn.

Namjoon picks up the bag from the floor, popping open the pill cup, handing Jimin a tiny capsule. His hand reaches to the side to try and coerce you to take the pill, but your hand is quick to swat it away, watching in victory as if flies across the room to land somewhere far away hopefully.

"Y/n, that wasn't very nice." Jimin scolds, making a smirk press your lips even more. Heavy breaths roll from your mouth onto his collarbone, licking a path from end to end.

"Mmm, more" He swallowed thickly, silently giving the guys a look saying 'help me'. They're hesitant to assist. Coming up with lame excuses instead.

"Uh yeah man I gotta go wash my goldfish." Hoseok walks away, trailing upstairs.

"I have to start on dinner. Anybody want pork belly?" Jin adds, quickly making his way towards the kitchen.

"Fuck no." Yoongi comments before making his way back upstairs. None of them even know when he'd come down in the first place.

Jimin's eyes meet Namjoon's, who'd been watching the whole scene unfold with hesitancy. "Yeah, uhm- I'm rather fond of my head jimin, so have fun with that." Namjoon trails behind Jin into the kitchen, assisting in the first load of dishes.

Jimin makes his way up the stairs with you latched on like a little turtle hanging onto it's parents' shell. Once you're both in his room, he shuts the door. You're quick to hop down from hold, pushing his body up against the door, reaching over to turn the lock. His hands come up to press against your shoulders, pushing you back to give him some breathing room.

"Woah woah- Y/n you've gotta chill out." Your head tilts to the side, lifting on your toes to whimper out the most desperate of things you could possibly get out. However they only exit your lips with your mother language, one in which he knows nothing of. From the other side of the house, you could hear Jungkook's voice speak back, telling you to shut the fuck up with that.

Eyes rolling, your hands find their way down to his belt, making quick work to rid him of the damn thing. "Y/n, wait-" he lips part open, moaning out from the way your fingertips trail over the clad of his boxer briefs. Mouth pressing open kisses to the side of his neck, tongue flushed flat onto the heated skin as your swirl the tip around.

"Je- Fuck.. Y/n.." His head falls back, before you're lifted from the ground, cornered against the bed's end. His body forces yours down, happily to oblige. Hands coming to pin your wrist to the side of your head, his breath falling down in gentle brushes, as if he'd been Bob Ross himself.

"My rules." He growls, making your whole stomach flip a million times. The heat between your legs, burning with need. His body leaves yours for a second, as you let out a whine.

"Just grabbing something." He makes clear before coming back into sight with a few ties of rope.

Holy fuck.

A smirk presses his lips, as his body stalks over yours, falling flat to tower.

"Are you going to be good for me?" He questions, securing the knots around each of your limbs to the bedpost. Your head fervently nods, mind too clouded with nothing else but the neediness you felt for him.

"Good girls follow daddy's instructions." Holy shit.

"Are you a good girl?" His tone leaves every inch of your skin on fire, as if you'd been thrown into a burning building.

"Yes! Yes!" Is all you could cry out. The anticipation is too much for your aching self to handle.

His lips lower to meet your ear, hot breath rolls down the lobe as he whispers.

"Good."

In just a split second, his lips crash to meet yours. Tongue was already fighting for dominance, but he'd won that battle so easily, it hadn't even been a fight at all. Your every desire was filled by him. Every thought, touch, smell, sight, was to belong to him-

You felt the push of his tongue forcing you to swallow a small gulp of whatever he'd hidden between his lips. Once the foreign object was pulled down your throat, all of the pleasure ceases. His touch burning against your skin retracts, the knee he'd been rubbing against your aching core had been no more. Your head whipped left and right to find an answer to why he stopped all of this. Was your tail in the way? Did you bite his lip too hard? Are you not fuckable??

Then, it sets in. Your eyes trail to the opened pill bottle that had been popped open, propped on his side table. Suddenly, you felt the passion, the fire, dwindle down. Your vision became clearer, as his irresistible body and scent became just..

Average.

His hand came up to thumb your cheek, hadn't even noticed that you'd been crying. Your hair messed and knotted with all the movements. Cheeks flushed, and lips swollen from your kiss. His eyes softly gaze into yours, a solemn smile pressing his lips.

"I'm sorry.." He coos, stroking your hairline lovingly.

"This was the only way."

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I don't know if this will continue or not, depends on how popular it gets. Hope you enjoyed it! Took me all day to write this. My cat made my laptop fall off my dresser when I went to go and get something, it cracked and ruined the touch screen option. My touchpad doesn't work too well either, so that's just greaaaat.

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178 notes · View notes

lexosaurus · 2 years ago

Text

and then he woke up

Happy @phandomholidaytruce to @bleedingectoplasm! I loved your prompts, especially the part where you said, "idk just hurt me<3" so I hope I delivered!

Characters: Danny, GIW, Sam, Tucker Words: 5103 Warnings/tags: body horror, angst, recovery

[ao3 link]

***

It had been a joke once. Back in high school, his classmates had once bantered about the limits to his healing factor. They giggled, theorizing different scenarios, each more ridiculous than the last. Instances where his finger was cut off, his ghostly tail chopped in two, his torso sliced in half. If he was missing an organ, would his body make a new one? Would he regrow it like a starfish if his arm was cut off?

He had laughed, then. Because of course, those situations were crazy. No one was going to take his organs out. No one was going to cut his arm off.

It was a joke.

It was supposed to be a joke.

His breath shuttered. Above him, white blended with white blended with green. Fire and nothingness cloaked his body, his nerves too fried to produce even a twitch. But still, ectoplasm bathed his skin, pooling on the table below him.

Voices murmured off to his side, and the sounds of machines beeped and whirred around him. But everything was muffled, the white was too oppressive, make it stop, make it stop…

“It’s fascinating.” The fuzzy operative hovered above him.

Danny couldn’t react as metal tools pressed against his skin.

“His body seems to be regrowing his missing kidney. Look, you can see it.”

Another face entered his view. “That’s incredible. Level seven indeed.”

Danny shut his eyes. He couldn’t stomach seeing their faces. He couldn’t know who was opening his skin, shuffling through his body, tearing it apart and putting it back together like a crude jigsaw.

He wanted to cocoon in his ignorance and wake up in his bed.

He woke up in his cell. No bed. No blanket. He was a ghost, and ghosts didn’t deserve luxuries.

He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to assess the damage. He didn’t want to see how deep the nerve and muscle damage went, didn’t want to know if there was still a hole in his body, didn’t want to feel any dents where organs should be.

He didn’t want to know.

But deep down, some ugly part of him knew. And it admonished him, telling him to be grateful. He could have had it worse, he could have died.

But then, wasn’t he already dead? No living person could have survived that.

No living person could have regrown a kidney.

His eyes burned, and his vision blurred over. After he passed out again, he would wonder what else they had removed from his body. What other things was he forced to regrow like some mutant lab experiment?

And to his horror, a few days later, he woke up.

Back on the metal table.

With another fuzzy operative floating above him, metal tools in hand.

The strap on his forehead stopped him from craning to see what was happening next to him, but instinct pooled in his gut anyway, and he knew.

He knew.

“It’s halfway regrown,” the operative said in a sterile tone.

“Time recorded. And what of his kidney?”

“It looks about a quarter of the way there.”

“Excellent.”

He wanted to ask, to beg, what was the first one? What were they talking about? Had they removed his kidney again? Didn’t they have enough fun the first time? Why were they doing this to him?

But even the mere thought of asking sent nausea down his throat and he couldn’t think about it, he couldn’t ask. His voice was frozen over anyway.

If he didn’t know the truth, then the realities didn’t exist.

When he woke up in his cell that evening, he tried to call out to Clockwork, to the Observants, to anyone who may see him. Who may know what he was going through.

But no one responded.��

Of course.

Even though he didn’t expect an answer, it still punched him in the gut all the same. And those fears, those insecurities danced through his mind, twisting their imprints into every corner of his thoughts.

He wasn’t worthy of rescue. He wasn’t worth the trouble. He was just a thing, just a specimen to experiment on. He was…

Alone.

And then he woke up again on the table. And again. By now his nerves had been too torn apart to emit anything other than a numb tingling. The places he could still feel burned—they always burned—but he could ignore it. Shut it out.

Don’t think about it.

Don’t think.

He stared at the ceiling. Unmoving. Unblinking. Passed the masked faces above him, only catching the glint of metal out of the corners of his eyes. He listened as the operatives spoke, slicing parts of him away, but their words went in one ear and out the other.

He didn’t want to know.

And time passed. He kept waking up on the table with more things missing. He kept waking up in his cell knowing they had regrown. He kept waking up feeling tingling, burning in previously numb parts of his body, knowing that it was only thanks to the weekend that his nerves had begun to feel again. But then Monday would come again, and he would wake up with his body numb once more.

How much time had passed? How much of his body was no longer his? How much had regrown like an ugly patchwork of an ectoplasmic contaminated doll?

Was he even himself anymore if so much had been replaced?

How long until he couldn’t call himself Danny?

And then he woke up.

Again.

***

He woke up to dimly lit glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

Those had been courtesy of Sam’s insistence. Something about grounding him after he woke up from nightmares—after all, the GIW didn’t have decorations in their cells. It was too bad the stars didn’t exist behind his eyelids. It would be nice to be able to prevent the dreams from happening in the first place.

He wasn’t sure what time it was, and he was too afraid to look at his phone to check. He didn’t want to know how badly he’d messed up his sleep for the night—again—he’d realized. But the room was dark, so he could only imagine.

On TV, when people woke up from nightmares, they got out of bed. Maybe they got a glass of water, hopped in the shower, or started getting dressed.

Danny always thought that was a load of bullshit. Because here he was, his frantic heart beginning to slow, brain flickering images that made him want to gag, and yet he couldn’t even consider the possibility of leaving his bed.

And so he lay there.

Staring up at the ceiling.

He must have dozed off eventually because one moment his eyesight went blurry, and the next he was waking up to the plastic stars. Except, sunlight streamed through the windows, and the stars had lost their sci-fi glow.

He still didn’t know what time it was. Maybe he should check.

Maybe.

His skin was uncomfortably warm, and he could feel his pillow not quite right under his head. His neck was stiff, but still, he didn’t get up. He could have slept for a week. He didn’t have the willpower to get out of bed.

So…he didn’t. He stayed in bed. A sluggish arm pulled out his phone and his fingers lazily scrolled through various social media sites without stopping to read anything. He let the minutes hours pass by until the stale taste in his mouth and his parched throat forced him out of bed.

It was a good thing Sam and Tucker weren’t here. They would be so disappointed if they saw how he spent his days off.

He turned on the faucet, washing toothpaste down the drain. His sink was getting grimy again, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cleaned his apartment. Sam would be so let down. Tucker would be too, though he wouldn’t say so many words as her.

So when his phone buzzed to life and familiar names appeared on his screen, he ignored them.

He couldn’t face them. Couldn’t do it.

Instead, he went back to bed. Not to sleep, just to…exist. Whatever that meant.

And when his phone finally rang, he turned it on Do Not Disturb.

(In his dreams, he woke up in his cell again.)

He woke up to the stars.

Again.

He stayed in bed, dozing until his alarm went off, signaling the start of the work week.

Had Sunday passed? Did his brain skip an entire day without him knowing?

So he had spent the entire weekend in bed.

Fantastic.

He forced himself up, forced himself into the shower. He was careful not to touch his body anymore when he showered—that was what the loofah was for (another gift from Sam). His skin didn’t feel right anymore. It prickled at his touch in some places and burned in others. It had raises and bumps and lines that it didn’t use to. He couldn’t touch it, couldn’t admit to what happened, didn’t want to know.

Of course, it was impossible to forget.

He didn’t even notice he had transformed until he was already invisibly touching down at the subway stop. Danny Fenton took the subway to campus. At least, that was the story everyone else saw.

He detransformed—still invisibly, thank god he’d mastered that—and ducked out from behind the pillar. The invisibility dropped, and he slung his backpack over his shoulder as he made for the turnstile.

Danny Fenton was a researcher getting his MS in aerospace engineering. Danny Fenton was looking for summer internships. Danny Fenton was a normal man, one who grew up with scientist parents, who never went into their portal, who was never kidnapped by the government, who never had his body cut open and was never forced to regrow his organs day and day again.

He was normal.

Very normal.

The sun hit his eyes and he tried to pretend that he wasn’t squinting at the sudden light. That he hadn’t just spent the entire weekend inside. That he wasn’t royally fucked for class today because he hadn’t even glanced at the prep work.

He followed a group of students inside his building and scanned his ID at the front desk. The security guard hardly looked up from his newspaper, and why would he? Danny Fenton was a normal, tired human student.

The elevator dinged at his floor, and he made the same trek to the office that he always made. Someone acknowledged him from the hall—probably Blake, he practically lived at the school—and Danny grunted in response.

He hoped he remembered to shave that morning. He couldn’t remember anything other than the relief and subsequent dread at waking up.

“Got some grading for you, Fenton,” the professor said as soon as Danny walked through the door. He tapped a stack of folders. “It’s a rough one, sorry.”

Danny’s voice crackled as he responded, “Sounds good.” He flushed, realizing it had been several days since he’d spoken last.

(He talked plenty in his dreams, though.)

His advisor quirked a bushy brow at him. “You sleep alright?”

“Fine.” Danny swiped the stack of folders. “I’ll be in the conference room till someone kicks me out.”

“‘Kay.”

He was glad it was just grading. Math had formulas, it had plans. It was either right or wrong. A rocket ship couldn’t fly if the numbers were wrong.

And grading undergraduates was mindless. They either knew the material or they didn’t. In the case of Professor Patel’s class, most of them didn’t.

Which was fine with Danny. If that meant he had to take longer to grade these exams, then that was good. Great, even. It meant he could spend less time thinking.

But eventually, he finished, and Patel ordered him to get food before class.

Danny tried to remember what he’d eaten since Friday. Maybe he had…pizza? At one point? A sandwich? Some ramen? He couldn’t remember. He must have eaten something because he wasn’t that hungry.

“You sure you’re alright?” Patel had asked again as Danny gathered his coat and bag to leave.

“Yeah.” He refused to make eye contact. “Just tired. You know, busy weekend.”

Busy weekend of staring at the wall, more like.

“I get it. Grad school is tough,” Patel said. “Listen, I have some meetings later, so I don’t need you for the rest of the day. After class, just go home. Get some rest. Swing by tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Make sure you actually sleep this time.”

Danny attempted a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

Still, shame and guilt clawed at his hollow insides. He knew that he was giving nothing but empty promises.

He managed to go to class where he managed to take notes and he managed to follow along. Somehow. Thankfully.

And then Danny Fenton walked to a secluded spot, transformed, and flew home.

His apartment was dark under the drawn curtains, but he didn’t bother with a light switch. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t human anyway.

He grabbed a container from the fridge—takeout, some days old—and ate it under the light of the microwave clock. It was lo mein, some part of him recognized midway through. It tasted blander than he remembered.

Some part of him thought back to when the operatives had cut out his tongue. Partially to punish him for mouthing off, and partially just for fun. Sometimes he wondered how different his new taste buds were. Was this because they had regrown? Or did he just have issues?

No, don’t think about that.

So he didn’t.

He woke up to his alarm.

He went to school.

Helped his advisor around the office.

Assisted with a class for undergraduates.

Went to his own class.

Had coffee with a classmate after. (What was her name again?)

Flew home.

Ate dinner. Ramen this time.

Woke up.

He woke up to pounding on his door.

He slapped a hand to his forehead, blearily sliding it down his eyes. Ugh, what time was it?

Who the hell was here this early?

Muffled shouting sounded from the hallway, but Danny couldn’t even begin to decipher what they were saying. But a second later, he recognized who was speaking and groaned on instinct.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” He braced himself for the unforgiving atmosphere that existed outside of his blankets.

“Danny, if you don’t get to the door right fucking now, I’m going to—”

“Yeah! I heard you!” He snapped, dragging his lifeless body from the bed.

“Sam, come on—”

“No, he can’t ignore us, Tuck.”

“I know, but—”

Danny opened the door, blinking as the light from the hall hit his retinas. He yawned. “What the hell?”

“Danny, have you been sleeping all day?” Sam’s tone hardly reigned in her frustration. She stood, tapping her black boots on the carpet and glaring at him through her purple makeup and dyed bangs.

“What?”

“It’s two in the afternoon, dude,” Tucker said, pushing past the door.

Danny didn’t fight him. He’d learned months ago that isolation wasn’t a battle he could win with these two.

Sam wrinkled her nose, picking at his shirt. “Have you been wearing this all week?”

Danny rolled his eyes, stepping back into the dusty apartment. He couldn’t remember when he’d last changed, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. “Will you relax? I was just asleep. Sorry, I’ll change.”

“Danny…”

“Make yourselves at home. I’ll be right back.” He shut the front door and padded to his bedroom, rifling through his laundry bin of clean clothes he’d never managed to put away.

Tucker, of course, took that as an invitation to perch himself on the bedroom doorframe. He stared into the messy bedroom, his arms crossed, and that annoyingly tense look on his face that Danny had begun to recognize was the “you’ve done fucked up” look.

But as usual, Tucker didn’t offer any of that information first. No, Danny had to be the one to grind out, “Okay, what now?”

“What do you mean, what now?” Tucker said.

“I don’t know. You look like you have something to say.” Danny turned away and shrugged his shirt off, speed racing through putting the new one on.

He couldn’t risk anyone seeing his torso.

Even if his two best friends already knew what that looked like.

“Danny. You already know what I’m gonna say.”

“No, I don’t.”

Of course, he did.

But that was enough to snap Tucker out of his judgemental glare. For his crossed arms to fall down to his sides, and for that unmistakable sigh to escape his lips.

“Dude, you’re getting worse.”

He knew Tucker was right. But that didn’t stop instinct from spouting out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tucker snorted, glancing at the piles of dirty laundry on his floor. “If you want to keep lying to yourself.”

“Danny? All the vegetables I bought last week are still in your fridge,” Sam said, poking her head through the door. A clump of her purple and black hair caught on her lipstick, but she didn’t move to brush it away.

Danny didn’t even remember seeing vegetables in his fridge. “Sorry.”

“Have you been eating?”

“I eat a lot at school. You know, networking stuff.”

Tucker quirked a brow, and Sam’s expression looked even less impressed.

He looked at his two best friends, both dressed in unwrinkled clothes with skin that appeared as if it saw the sun for more than five minutes each day. They had their careers, friends, and lives that Danny could only dream of.

“Come on, let’s go get food,” Sam said.

“Food?”

“It’s past lunch, and I know you need it.”

It was pointless to try to fight them. “Okay. Give me a few minutes to wash my face?”

“Sure.”

Winter was nice, Danny decided. Winter air meant it was cold, and he had an excuse to bundle up. He didn’t have to worry about short sleeves or people seeing his bare skin.

He could cover it up, not talk about it, not think about it.

“I think you should talk about it,” Sam said finally, placing a sub in front of him.

Danny couldn’t recall ordering anything. In fact, he hardly remembered the walk here. Which was bad. That meant Sam and Tucker had seen him when he was zoning out. He tried not to do that when they were around.

Oops.

“You know I can’t,” Danny said. He picked up the sub and took a bite. It was nice, and then he realized that meant he was probably hungry.

“I’m not saying you need to give details as Fenton. Maybe you can find someone willing to work with Phantom?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Nah,” Tucker said through a mouthful of his own food. He chewed for a moment and then swallowed. “Phantom’s been around for a while. You have a lot of support. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to find a therapist who’s willing to work with you in ghost form.”

“Yeah, okay, let me just do that. I’ll just go ahead and risk finding a therapist on the off-chance they don’t call the government to come take me back there. Sure, no problem.” Danny glared at his food which suddenly didn’t look so appetizing. He huffed, putting it down on his plate, and dropped his head into his palms.

His hands were shaking. He hadn’t even realized they were doing that.

“Danny…” Sam’s voice was gentle this time. “Come on. There are other options.”

“Not really.”

“Sure there are. We can get you to a psychiatrist. You know, as a human.”

“They’d want to do bloodwork.”

Sam was silent at that. And then Danny could hear his breath, how shaky it was, and he hated that. He hated this conversation and feeling this way and he wanted to be home by himself staring at the stupid plastic stars on his ceiling again.

“You can’t keep living like this,” Tucker said. “I’m sorry, but you can’t. This is bad.”

“I know.” His voice was weak.

“So let’s think of something.”

“I’ve tried. There’s nothing else I can do.”

The three of them were silent once again. No one moved until finally, Tucker picked up his sandwich, and Sam followed. And Danny sat there with his head in his hands until the shakiness stopped and he could manage to eat another few bites. Sam wrapped up his leftovers and she and Tucker guided him home.

And that was that.

Until he woke up the next day to his phone ringing. It was Sam—of course, it was Sam—breathless on the other line.

“I’m here.”

“What?”

“Tucker’s outside. Can you buzz us in?”

Danny groaned, dragging himself up again because these two idiots didn’t know how to leave him alone. He hit the buzzer and then waited at his door for the sound of murmurs, footsteps, and the polite knock that followed (it was Tucker’s knock this time). He opened the door to see his friends with their backpacks suspiciously full.

“Guys, stop,” Danny said, stepping aside to let them in.

“Stop what?” Tucker said innocently.

“Stop mothering me. You don’t need to bring me stuff. You already did that last week.”

Tucker hopped over to the kitchen. “Oh well, if you see Danny, tell him we’ll stop bringing him groceries when he admits he can’t survive on ramen forever.” Tucker set his backpack down on the counter and unloaded its contents into the fridge.

Danny mumbled incoherently, pulling out his phone to Venmo his two friends because he knew they wouldn’t accept repayment otherwise.

“Come on,” Sam said, pulling him away from Tucker. “Let’s watch TV.”

Danny allowed himself to be dragged to the couch, and he didn’t resist when Sam pushed him down and threw a blanket over him.

“There,” she said.

“I’m a halfa. I wasn’t cold.”

“But now you’re comfortable.”

“And you have groceries,” Tucker said, jumping onto the couch. He threw his hoodie-covered arm around Danny, patting his shoulder. “See? We got you.”

“I’m sorry,” Danny said reflexively. He was sorry. He was so sorry that they had to deal with him, that he wasn’t just fine and back to normal. That, for some reason, he couldn’t handle what happened even after all this time had passed.

“It’s okay, dude.”

“No, it’s not.” He moved his mouth soundlessly, shoving his trembling fingers under his blanket. He could feel the other two still beside him, and he wanted to unload everything, but that wouldn’t be fair to them. He couldn’t keep using them like this, it wasn’t fair.

“Danny, come on, we’re your best friends.”

“Yeah, but this is crazy. I’m crazy—or, I feel like it. You know? Like…I don’t know, I just feel like the world keeps slipping and I don’t know what to do.”

Admitting the truth was bitter, and he couldn’t look at the other two. He couldn’t see their reactions. He didn’t want to look at Sam’s concerned expression, her eyebrows tight and pulled in, and he didn’t want to see Tucker’s wide eyes and their underlying hard look. Because that would mean that what he said was real and that the dreams were real and he couldn’t do that. He didn’t want to know.

“As we said before,” Sam said, her voice cautious. “You know, there are options.”

“Those are impossible for me.”

“Not necessarily.” Sam reached down into her backpack and pulled out a folder. “I hope you don’t mind, but last night Tucker and I went ahead and looked into some psychologists nearby. We compiled a list of all the ones who had liked or posted pro-Phantom posts on social media.”

Danny’s brain was slow to react, but when the implication hit him, he carefully reached out for the folder and opened it. Inside were stapled pages of various therapists. He leafed around to see printouts of their backgrounds, therapist pages, and their interactions with Phantom-themed social media.

“Wow…” He stared at the papers, hardly soaking in the words in front of him. His throat felt tight, and something prickled behind his eyes.

“Like I said, we got you,” Tucker said.

Danny quickly wiped away a tear that betrayed him. “I—I’m sorry.”

“You’d do the same for us, dude.”

“Wow. Well, still. This was…really nice.” He glanced at his friends and saw nothing but kindness behind their eyes. “Thanks, guys.”

“Will you let us help you find someone now?”

Danny nodded.

“Good.” Sam put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Danny. I promise.”

And if he had to wipe away another tear from his cheek, his friends were kind enough to not point it out.

***

“You look better,” Tucker said through a mouthful of a pastrami sandwich. “She’s good?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Danny sipped on his coffee, glancing toward the window. Snow flurries had begun to fall, though too sparse to stick onto the pavement. The sun was undecided if it wanted to commit to hiding behind the clouds and letting the snow commence, or if it wanted to break up the incoming storm in favor of blue skies.

But regardless of the weather, the world moved around him. People hurried along the sidewalks, their hands shoved in their pockets and their eyes trained low, blinking away the little white speckles that stuck to their eyelashes. Cars whizzed by with bikes trailing alongside them. Across the street, a man dressed in all blue stood on a box, preaching to the scurrying passerby.

“I’m glad she’s working out,” Tucker said.

Danny was glad as well. Though, he could never express just how relieved he’d been. Looking back, it was almost embarrassing how quickly he had broken down to Amy. He couldn’t even remember what question she had asked him, just that it apparently hit the exact nerve he had spent months pushing down further and further into the recess of his mind.

That had been the first night in a long time he didn’t have a nightmare.

“How’s your job going?” Danny asked. “Sorry, I haven’t really asked.”

“All good, dude! And it’s been going well. My team’s awesome. I can’t really talk about what we’re developing—NDAs and all—but it’s been fun to figure out how to build everything. You know? It’s like a jigsaw puzzle.”

Danny felt the corners of his lips twitch up. It had been too long since he’d seen this, the spark that hit Tucker’s eyes when he got on the topic of technology. For so long, his daily routine had been making sure he didn’t drown, that he’d forgotten how nice it was to be able to breathe air.

“You can’t tell me anything? Not even a little hint?”

Tucker groaned dramatically, pulling his beanie down over his eyes. “Don’t tempt me, dude! Staying quiet about this is already bad enough without having you guilting me into spilling.”

“Aw, you’re no fun.”

“And what about you? You’re working for your advisor, right?”

“Yeah. Patel’s cool. You know, it’s mostly just me doing his bitch work. But he’s been talking about introducing him to some of his contracting buddies. So that’d be cool.” Danny shrugged. “Whatever gets my foot in the door, really.”

“The first job’s the hardest. After that, it gets easier.”

“That’s what Sam said too. And Jazz. And my mom.”

“Well, they’re not wrong,” Tucker said, turning his attention back to his sandwich. “You remember me complaining about my first job. My boss was an idiot who thought more lines of code meant more productivity. No matter how many people explained that fewer lines are actually—a lot of the time—better and that debugging was a thing, this guy couldn’t grasp the concept. I couldn’t wait to finish out my year and get out of there.”

“Bad bosses are everywhere, I guess.”

“Yeah. But you know, now I’m working at this kickass place and it’s great!”

Tucker didn’t have to convince Danny of that. Just looking across the table, Danny could see all the ways Tucker had changed since they were kids. He was taller, more filled out, and he sat with his shoulders back, head held high. He still had that shit-eating grin, but it seemed more genuine now. Kinder.

Danny had a lot of catching up to do. But maybe…maybe one day, he’d get there too.

“Well, I’m sure I’ll be complaining about my first boss too.”

“It’s a rite of passage.”

The laugh escaped his lips before he could stop himself. “Sure it is.”

“So what’s on your agenda for today?”

“Eh, nothing fun. I’m still catching up with all my schoolwork.” It hadn’t been fun facing the mountain of assignments and studying he had fallen behind on. But it hadn’t exactly been the first time he’d been in this academic predicament either. And as experience had taught him, once he’d started, he had found that his backlog of work wasn’t quite as bad as his anxiety had made it seem.

“We’ll be seeing you on Friday still, right?” Tucker asked.

Danny took another sip of his coffee and nodded. “For sure. I’ll need the break by then.”

“Good.”

“And, you know, thanks.” Danny ducked his head. “I know I’ve been off. Thanks for sticking it out for me. I really appreciate you guys.”

“Dude, of course. You know, we moved here together, so we’re gonna stick together.”

“Yeah. Still, thanks.”

“We got you.”

When Danny woke up on Saturday, he wasn’t in his bed. He was on his couch with Sam and Tucker pressed up on either side of him. They must have fallen asleep watching terrible movies again. Empty cans of spiked seltzers and a family-sized bag of pretzels littered the coffee table, and the ‘Are You Still Watching?’ message splayed over the TV screen.

He heard the soft snores of Tucker and the consistent breaths of Sam, and something warm and fuzzy grew in his stomach. After months and months of feeling empty, the warmth was almost jarring at first, but that was quickly replaced by bliss.

Because even though it had been a while, even Danny couldn’t forget how nice this all felt. To have friends, family even. To be loved and cared for. To know that no matter what, he always had these two by his side.

Honestly, what would he do without them?

“Thanks,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

He could wait until they woke up too.

#danny phantom #fanfiction #phicc #my writing #and then he woke up #we got some trio bonding #we got some dissecc #i mean really what more could you need

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