#war flashbacks to all the terribly written high school AUs I have read

[cielrouge]

A peak example of how my parents should be proud of what their daughter is using her liberal arts education for: In the midst of writing a report, having to stop and seriously contemplate for a second: “Do I have to explain to my boss what a high school AU is?” 

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Between the pages | 03

Genre: fluff, angst, romance, smut, Werewolf AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: alpha!Namjoon x human!Reader

Warning: Mention of knotting/mating, a conflicted angry Joon.

Summary: Sometimes we find by sheer luck what we lost between the pages. The retrieval, however, is not always as fortunate.

Previous part / Masterlist / part 4 (yet to be written)

Inhibition has come to form a steady aspect of a life full of oppression, whether it be in the form of thoughts about a dearly missed loved one or unspoken words about an inevitable event. All are elements of the mental cage a fortunate woman was distanced from just in time, the second drowsy murmurs started to transform into murring, the disguise of the thing within regardlessly hoping happiness could be found somewhere far out of its reach.

Just in time to remain blind to the monster.

Be safe from the unconscious influence of nature always triggered first by a splendid persevering brother who also falls into bestial primitivity once a month howbeit in a much more controlled fashion than the youngest shame of the bloodline.

From a murderous lustful renegade.

And that same silver perpetrator now stares out over the calmly flowing river mirroring the rays of the sun on a rare bright day, zoning out to the occasional sharp sparkle that distracts all focus from the boiling bad temper and painful stings in the nether region which will only worsen once the monthly “season” starts anew. Is lost in the scent of inked pages that were once read together after class and on dates that seem so long ago if not part of one of the many surrounding tales, completely ignoring the psychiatric alpha earning some money on the side as a barista as broad shoulders are shook with an urgent request for a shift in attention.

‘Namjoon! Have you been listening at all?’ A mirthless though relieved grimace forms on the elder brown wolf’s long handsome face when hazy eyes revert from agitated crimson to espresso, regaining a sense of reality as gazes lock while absent fingers continue to fidget with the iron necklace from which a platinum wedding band dangles. The ring that will never bond with moonstone. ‘Of course, you haven’t. Look, Monie, I know you’re thinking of her as per usual when you stand here instead of actually running the store and can smell on you that your rut is going to start soon, but even so, we really need to talk.’

There is no energy to wage a verbal war despite the anger of the creature within, eager to lash out with claws at being provoked while the man forming its host manages to sedate it at the cost of increased exhaustion but a triumph of civilization. However, before starting on the inevitable topic, a habitual question is asked regardless of the never-changing negative reply to it. ‘Any word of Tae?’

‘You know how it goes, nothing. No new trails nor news. He’s out there somewhere doing fine, I’m sure. We have to hope so.’ An encouraging squeeze in a broad shoulder clad in an earthly colourful loose Mexican-style poncho consoles the melancholic hate-stained thought about the cousin turned away by the family simply for being an omega. A mere boy who was kicked out by parents who were supposed to love their only son unconditionally but easily discarded the blonde boy upon finding out amber would never turn into ruby. It is because of them Tae Tae ran away and vanished without a trace, could be dead for all that is known since childish naivety can become the cause for fatal errors.

Where are you? Please be alright. Please be okay wherever you are, buddy. You were the only other one who actually understood what it is like to be different. To be an outcast.

There is not much time to contemplate the loss of the relative with the odd square smile who was taught reading by a kid who would grow up to be a black-hearted killer, because Hoseok already moves on to the next sensitive topic of debate. ‘Joon, I went to the hospital recently and-’

‘I changed Jungkook, I know. Heard the story over breakfast thanks to Jin.’ Full lips pull back into a snarl, baring stark white teeth with a low self-loathing growl at the thought of having ruined the life of the shy cherry red-haired boy working as a waiter in the restaurant run by the head of the river territory who has strangely always idolized a mere beastly bookseller. Pulled strength from his words when dropping by to ask for tutoring for the seemingly hopeless exams of the high school he just graduated from. Kept doing so because he wanted to make his girlfriend, a really nice girl who is a few years older than him and is in the second year of the study of the mind, proud. But the mentor let the apprentice down in the most terrible of ways possible. ‘I’m a monster, a hazard, a fucking disgrace. I should be put down.’

Bony fingers now enclose both upper arms, demanding a revision of the statement out of fear for the asylum that would rightfully put an end to an endless war. ‘Don’t say that. We’ll think of something, do a bit more research to strengthen your medication. Jungkook’s girlfriend asked me to provide him with therapy so I’ll make sure he’ll go through the changing process as flawlessly as possible and keep you out of sight of The Council.’ The anxiety increases further at seeing the disbelief in an attitude knowing very well there is only so long one can run for justice, for a sane mind to remain separated from the abomination which grows more visceral by the day, for help to actually provide a solution. ‘Please say you don’t have the gun anymore.’

Until, one day, only a bullet helps.

’Joon, say you don’t. That’s not what Y/N would want for you.’ Something is off about the scent of amiable panicked irises, weird in the worried tone of speech. ‘She would support you and find a way. Help us find a way to do something about being a Renegade. Think of her, Monie. Of the ring. She’s out there somewhere and you will get married one day. And what of your brother, of Seokjin? He basically raised you on his back. And what of me? I can’t run this place on my own because I don’t know the summary of every book on the shelves. We’ll find a way and put this situation to rest properly.’

Flowers, but one sort in particular.

Tulips in summer.

‘How can you say that when her perfume is on you?’ The deformed mouth now clearly shows sharp canines, a mad frenzy ignited by smelling the wife who had to be saved from a monster on the other alpha cloaking vision in a scarlet haze as fingers mould into fists, nails digging into the palms to have a weak link to sanity.

But to no avail.

The tables turn, one hand distorted with rage grabbing the collar of a neatly ironed alabaster shirt and pulling the stunned earth-toned wolf with thin-rimmed glasses closer so that every growled word can be heard crystal clear in the air filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and her. ‘Answer me, goddammit. Why is my wife’s perfume on you? Did you fuck her, hm? Given her pups while you know she’s mine?’

The tinkling of the bell at the front door goes accompanied by a fresh alluring wave of the characteristic reminiscent scent also present on a lying bastard, distracting the mind just enough with alluring calming flashbacks to times gone by for Hoseok to once more turn the tide when a small step is set in the direction of temptation.

Y/N. She... she’s here. She finally came back to me, to her alpha.

The hold on the neatly ironed fabric is rapidly broken off by meticulously prying digits loose and turning the formerly offending arm on the spine after flipping a powerful wolf only now stupidly aware of the sudden attack, each endeavour to break free nullified with every ounce of available strength maintaining the locked position against the window behind the counter.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ A protesting wriggle proves as futile as the enemy’s had before, solely resulting in another grunt from the barely older colleague clearly thinking above his status. ‘Let me go!’

‘And let you walk up to her like this? You’re almost suffocating me monthly with pheromones so imagine what it would do to her.’ The unconsciously emitted hormones strengthen the chances of finding a proper omega partner to see the rut with through, intensifying every emotion and touch with the trance-like state it induces in both the lover and the mate. Although not everyone always appreciates the enhanced scents for to some they are unappealing, to put it politely. Regardless, due to the prohibition of werewolf-human relationships, very little is known of what it does to a person without the magnificent power of old but considering their obvious lesser strength, it is likely they shall submit earlier than the average she-wolf. Other effects remain in the undiscovered field of myth and legend.  

‘She’s my wife!’ The view changes from the bright clear spring river to wood supporting stacks of newly arrived books that have yet to be categorized and priced, pinned down on the counter by the cursed mongrel bearing the scent of the gorgeous lady already bound to an alpha from a proud ancient line yet tried to be claimed by another.

‘And she is human.’ The unimportant fact is growled through gritted teeth. Just another supposedly good reason to not meet the woman who should have become the mother of my pups a long time ago, when the force within awakened for the first time after a date in the lush green park nearby the shining river. She would have looked lovely on all fours underneath the long fingers of the willow tree at the waterside of the central pond, flowy dress imprinted with summer cherries hiked up enough to allow her alpha, me, to pump her full while wrists were pinned to the soft young grass.

The heat within worsens at the imagery as the rut painfully signals with restrained by denim twitches that the incredible fantasy can still be lived if only the current situation can be escaped and Y/N retrieved before going somewhere private. Although, with the sensual cravings coming more and more to a boiling point on the brink of an uncontrollable explosion, it is likelier the beautiful woman who was idiotically left behind will first be knotted on the ground.

Floral footsteps head towards the literary section in the back of the shop, removing themselves from a loving husband. Never again will the same mistake be made, that small hand let go of. It shall only be so when having to take over the task of carrying our son or daughter or both around.

Only then.

‘So what? I’m not allowed to even greet her? She’s not yours, bastard. She’s mine. My mate.’ Claws already begin to form where wrists are held captive, canines tangibly pressing against the tongue having greater difficulty with each encompassing second spend in rage, mere moments away from starting a fight as glorious wolves and putting the offender back in place.

If alive at all.

First, an easy battle since the strength of the opponent will be weakened by trying to act above social standing and then, at last, can true lovers be united and form a family. A pack.

I’ll mate her, right there against the poetry bookshelves. We’ll be together, baby. I promised you we’d be.

‘Joon, listen to me.’ A short lifting and harsh downfall onto the wood once more make a furious ruby stare shift attention from hidden loveliness to irritating commands supposedly made with reason. Made by a traitor laying claim to the mistress of another. ‘Listen. To. Me. I know this isn’t you talking, it’s the wolf on his rut, and you’re actually somewhere in there.’

‘Stop the bullshit. This is me. I’m here.’ Nothing but a true person, the rightful second-in-line for the position of the heir of the Kim family and leadership of the river district, is being held down.

Nothing but a man merely wanting to see his estranged spouse.

‘No, you’re not. Namjoon, normally you’re capable of suppressing the symptoms better. I know you can do it, so come back. Snap out of it! Y/N can’t know what you are and you want to keep it that way, emphasizing this by living unmated while still worrying about her. Remember how you’ve tried thus far, successfully, to keep her away from wolf society. Think about the rings.’ Hoseok’s voice lowers to a more peaceful version of itself at noticing the relaxation of tensed shoulders, the ceasing of endless barely containable struggles, the growling fading away into pained whimpers. ‘Your vows, think about them.’

I swore, dammit, what did I swear again? What does it matter? This is who, not who I am. It matters. Fuck, I need to recall. Right, to protect you against them. Against the thing inside even if it meant I’d never see you again. That, someday, I’d be a better man, fit to be your husband. Yours, in every aspect.

Scarlet fades away into deep earthly brown like the forest floor after a twilight filled with rainfall, the shade of the espressos drunk on book dates in this very realm of inked tales bound in a sea of colourful named spines. Razor sharp canines retreat in the gums, replaced by their human counterparts as fatal claws do the same but in the flesh of calloused hands. Speech is restored to baritone coherency, no animalistic trace left behind. ‘Hope, I- what I just- I didn’t mean anything of what I just said. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth after all the times I’ve acted like this.’ The gaze of the personification of the support pillar of the common sense that gets lost too often in the mind of the beast is sought, finding consenting comfort in it as the tight suppressing hold is lifted. ‘I really am.’

‘I know and, besides, you’re very unoriginal with your insults so I tend to ignore them anyway.’ As a way of making up for the rough treatment, clothes are righted by long tanned bony fingers, straightening out the creases and other signs of struggle while also clearly being aware of the boiling heat emanating from the skin underneath the fabric.

When they are finished with polishing, arms are crossed as a long face nods in the direction of the small back room functioning as a wardrobe and storage for new arrivals, back-up copies and second-hand novels which have yet to be sorted onto the shelves. ‘Wait there until she is gone. I don’t know, read a book or something, but whatever you do, try to stay in control. I have some of your medication in my bag, in the front pocket. It won’t really help, but it’ll suppress the symptoms for a while. Once she’s gone, you’re going home and I’ll manage the shop for the rest of the day. Should be easy enough, considering the stream of customers is... well, small.’

Tempting summer tulips are spread by innocent unmated fingers wandered to the fiction section where they are now leaving through a roman, conjuring up the earlier determination seducing the mind to give up sense in favour of true love.

So close, just a few steps away.

The heat encourages bridging the distance, rush to beloved lips that have never been forgotten, let temporary reason fade away into contact. Precisely like the voice falling away into absent-minded dreaming. ‘I’m... I’m just going to say hello.’

A firm hand on the richly decorated fabric of the suffocating cardigan makes the unconscious step forward undone, endeavouring to guide a stony resisting silver wolf to loathsome confinement again. ‘Joon, don’t.’

A pathetic whimper falls from full lips, partially out of the enhanced longing for the moonstone lady and in part due to the continuous stream of sharp stings of pain in the region below. ‘Please, let me see her. I’ll behave, I promise.’

‘I can’t let you do that, Monie.’

‘I can control it. Please, I need to see her.’ Shortly, focus briefly shifts to the light brown eyes of the caretaker of the contained yet mighty dominant creature below the surface wanting to be like any guy on the street. ‘Look at me. See? No crimson eyes. I can do this, Hoseok.’

The wolf wants Y/N too. It won’t hurt her nor will I. What am I saying? I am the wolf and she is safe with me.

A negative shake of brown locks lighting up bronze in the sunlight falling in through the window makes teeth grit because of apparently not being convincing enough despite having proven to not be a risk. And if the gesture did not stress this, the stern tone upon speaking does. ‘You just proved you can’t, Namjoon. Do what I just told you to. Wait in the storage room and take the pills. If you don’t, you’ll be a danger to us all and you know that. Do the right thing. I don’t want to see you disappear into the asylum.’

I won’t. I’m fine, normal. In perfect control.

‘But it’s Y/N, my wife, my mate...’

‘I know, but you can’t approach her like this. At least we know she’s back in town so I’ll ask around and see what the district leaders have to say, find out where she has settled so you can meet privately when the rut has passed.’ Another attempt at going towards reminiscent flowers moved to the thriller section is halted, this time to much annoyance which is answered with a laborious though resigned sigh. ‘Stop it. Deep within you also know you can’t.’

Sharp predatory canines.

Bloodthirsty ruby.

Burning unconvincing hatred.

‘I can! Have got any fucking idea how much it hurts, huh? Know what it’s like to be unmated and going through Hell each month while your brother is nauseatingly happy with his girlfriend, able to knot his mate, continue the bloodline?’ At this point, the political consequences are the least of worries compared to those attached to walking away once more, thus making the same idiotic mistake as five years ago. However, it goes beyond having a reunion as well since this is also about showing that the second ashen-haired heir is not as much of a disgrace to the family as they have made him feel. Can be the father to the strong alpha pups of the next generation, who shall be even better than their parents.

‘Yes, I do because I experienced it once as well, though it sometimes still feels like it.’ Lashes lower in the belated realization that both alphas have a partner which is not approved of, nullifying the argument given earlier that contact between a crazed wolf and human cannot happen due to well-known apparent risks connected to it. Although, how can something that brings pleasure and relief from sensual pain have any other outcome, have repercussions when it only ensures the continuation of the dynasty? ‘Jimin can’t keep up with me already as is and I’m not part of an ancient pack. However, that does not mean my experience can’t form somewhat of a warning.’

The detail of familiar perfume on the bisexual alpha’s skin was almost forgotten yet freshly remembered thanks to the topic of debate. ‘You haven’t answered the question about how my wife’s scent ended up on your skin, said whether or not you fucked her.’

‘Of course, I haven’t because I’m a good friend and have been serving the Kim family loyally. It’s a curious thing I keep forgiving you for the amount of bullshit you can spout when you’re like this.’

The provoked fist lashing out is easily avoided, a slender palm wrapping around the forearm as quick as hunting paws and forcing a silver awesome creature into the unwavering locking position with a cheek against the counter again. ‘Listen for a second.’

A disagreeing growl owns a choked grunt at an attempt to maintain the current position while dearly missed footsteps return to the poetry section, come closer. The brown-haired mongrel seems to notice the tracking, resulting in an enforced surprisingly strong grip. ‘Listen to me. Joon! Listen. To. Me. A new bakery has opened in town and I go there each morning for a cup of coffee before coming here. Luck would have it that Y/N is the owner of the place and present to help the employees out wherever possible. We’ve been negotiating a collaboration between the shop and bakery for a few days now, merely talking about assortment and delivery schedules. That’s the reason. I wouldn’t lie to you. Happy now?’

A difficult look over the shoulder wants to see the lie behind the words, a reason to deal with the fake comrade that will leave him shunned and forgotten in the hierarchy, but all scarlet eyes regard is honest truth pleading for a sliver of sane conscious floating beneath the surface of the split personality to recognize it.

Which the resurfaced humanity does when the normally sunny long-time companion continues when remarking upon a repercussion that was discussed earlier at the breakfast table. ‘If this keeps happening it will only be a matter of time before the Council finds out about your state and send you to the asylum. Think about Seokjin, about me, about her. You will never see any of us again if you don’t fight for control.’

‘I- I know and I try. But, I can’t think clearly.’ Teeth grit themselves at another spurt of scorching warmth shooting throughout, worsening the capability of returning from mindless animalistic behaviour, deteriorating reason with every passing second. ‘Hobi, it hurts...’

Need to mate, need to fuck. Where did the tulips go? They’re still poetic. My beautiful bitch needs her alpha. No, can’t think this way. I’d break Y/N, can’t love her right when the thing inside craves her too.

‘I know, Joon, I know.’ All former caution fades from Hoseok’s attitude, replaced by the persevering calm that tries to be maintained during chaotic moments like these. ‘I’m gonna let go now, okay? I trust you to do the right thing.’

The paralyzing hold unravels, palms placed on the counter offering support while getting up to roll shoulders back before sullenly wandering to the storage room, a hand sheepishly correcting ashen locks grown haphazard in the struggles for liberty that must never be given to the oppressed thing roaming inside. Withal, feet only curtly stop in the crack of the door to gaze in the direction from which familiar eyes surprisingly look back yet are too rapidly turned away from, the door closed too soon, to instigate any sense of recognition.

We can’t be together. Not now, in any case. Someday I won’t have to walk away anymore, someday we can finally get married and I get to kiss you good morning and goodnight. Someday a place of our own will be filled with childish laughter and little paws. Until then, I’m sorry, baby.

The dusty fragrance of pages inscribed with tales of the fantastical, some of which have always been believed to merely be the conjurations of fancy though the underground society would beg to differ, makes a wild heart slow down. Clears sense enough to search the bright cherry red backpack which has “Hope” written in colourful letters on the front pocket and is tucked against a stack of new publications for the wolfsbane medicine.

Two small stark white pills containing a sedating poison for the abomination induce the same brief haze they always do, giving the split mind the breathtaking room it needs to function properly as a human, be like any other man out there.

Simply be allowed to play the role of the bookseller by the river.

Wallowing in the scent of a forgotten summer behind a firmly closed locked door.

Nonetheless, memories tend to resurface.

And this particular one comes too close.