#i think. the closer you are to a story/project is also a sign of how far away you should be from reviewers tbh
Note
hey! not gonna give my 2 cents on the situation or anything but i did want to give u some clarification on why the spin-off is on s2 and the other one hasnt even gotten a proper ep 1 yet: the main show was picked up by a studio and the spin-off is self published. they dont have control over the production or release schedule like they do w the spin-off :)
aah i see thank you for clarifying that, i knew the show got picked up by a big production company but thats p much all i knew about it till this week 😅 (kinda wish it had stayed that way!)
but the second show being self published does kinda explain why theyre being so overly defensive of it. but also that level of closeness to the project is all the more reason for them to stay away from twitter tbh :/
#other#t talks#i think. the closer you are to a story/project is also a sign of how far away you should be from reviewers tbh#cause theres Always going to be negative reviews#you could write the literal best story the world has ever seen n there will still be ppl that dont fuck with it.#so the fact theyre getting this defensive over some lukewarm criticism is alarming to say the least#cause once the main show does get released theyre going to be hitting a Wayyy bigger audience#n honestly for all of that staffs sake i hope theyre ready for that. but... after this week its kinda obv they are not :/#but i dont intend to find out how they weather that storm#cause i dont really care for comedy or romance as genres n thats like... all those shows are from what ive seen :/#(i like comedy and .... well i like comedy in shows. i just dont like when thats the Main selling point of shows btw)#im ngl i hate like. 90% romance storylines in shows tho 😭😭😭 pickyyy as fuckkkk
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Coming Home
SUMMARY | You and Haechan try to cope with a long distance relationship but when you land the opportunity to write a ballad song, you finally get to reunite with Haechan
PAIRINGS | Haechan/Fem!Reader
GENRE | smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral (female giving/male receiving), LDR
RATING | Mature
LENGTH | 6,456 words
AUTHOR’S NOTE | This was originally supposed to be a Jaehyun story but I decided to make it Haechan instead.
On another note, I’m still working on the Taeil and Xiaojun stories. Should be done soon 🙂
My Love
Hey, baby. I miss you.
You sighed as you read the text message that followed after yours. You were sitting in a local café and sipping your coffee, laptop on the table with your phone next to it. Your papers in your lap, you opened the word document ready to start writing some new lyrics for the new U.S. based girl group you were working with.
Staring outside of the shop’s window, you looked at the passerbys dressed in their winter coats and bundled up for the winter holidays. You wished you were back in Seoul, in the warm arms of that one special person you longed for. But your job as a songwriter made you go to the US, when you wanted to see your love, your heart. You sighed as you continued to sip your coffee.
You wondered what he was up to. Of course he had to be busy; Korean idols usually were busier than American singers. You sighed, wanting to experience the thrill of being back in Seoul, the rush of idols having promotions and performances. You missed the daily screams of fan girls, the feeling of being on stage and dancing and performing. Yes, you were an ex-idol. But your group had split due to problems with your former company and you signed to SM.
That's where you met him...
Your boyfriend. The love of your life.
You remembered the day you met him. Before you expressed the desire to become a singer-songwriter to your new company, you were attending dance and singing sessions despite already being known as a former idol. You were in the practice room one day, when he and his fellow members came into the studio for their own practice session. He caught your eye and approached you. You remember thinking how good looking he was, with those boyish features, and beautiful brown eyes. He expressed that he was glad that he was able to run into you since he was such a big fan of yours.
You laughed because you were also surprised by this, but then he told you that he admired your talent. From there, you started talking more often and he always showed up during your practice sessions. Then one day, he asked if he could talk to you privately and you went to the hallway near the studio rooms and talked about music and you soon became closer and closer to each other.
You still have moments where you replay the moment where he confessed his feelings to you, through song, during a performance at their showcase, back when they were only a rookie group and you were already well into your career. You blush every time you hear his name mentioned or see his face appear on your phone. But then again, you've been with him ever since, and he's the most important thing in your life. The most valuable person in your life.
But right now, you felt lonely.
Even though you spent your days working on music and meeting people to help make songs for the various projects you worked on, your evenings and nights were just so quiet without him. Just you, your notes, and a cup of tea. It wasn't like you didn't have any friends or acquaintances in the States. You were part of a creative team for this U.S based girl group, so you had other Koreans that had worked with you since you joined SM, that flew overseas with you. But you still missed home and all the familiar things from there, like your favorite cafes, people you knew, places that reminded you of him.
And now you're away from them, working on something that you want, doing what you love. And although it can be challenging sometimes, you're so grateful that you are where you are right now, making a living off of something that you truly enjoy. Because no matter what, you will never forget how lucky you are that you were given the opportunity to do this. Even though things weren't perfect at first, they ended up turning out just fine.
You picked up your pen and jotted down lyrics from your favorite Korean group's songs. You weren’t planning on using it in your own composition, no you wouldn't dare do that, but it was a type of inspiration for you. It gave you some ideas just looking at the lines your boyfriend sang. It lifted your spirits up and you knew one day you would go back to him.
“Y/N~” Someone called your name. Looking up from your laptop, you smiled as you saw several girls waving as they made their way to you.
“Hey girls!” You called out as you lifted a hand and waved at them. “What brings you here?”
“What are you doing, Y/N?” Ivy, one of the vocalists, asked as she sat down next to you. With her pale skin and bouncing blonde curls, she was clearly the visual of the group. “Who’s that?”
“Who’s who?” Sophie, another of the vocalists, asked as she sat down on the other side of you. She had the skin of caramel, her dark thick hair barely brushing her shoulders. Looking at your screen she also took a double take. “He’s a cutie!”
“Ah, him?” You pointed to the screen and smiled. You would always look at your screen and smile, the smile of the man staring back at you always made you feel happy inside. “That’s my boyfriend.”
“Who is he?” Gemma, the leader of the group, asked as she threw her long black hair behind her.
“You guys don’t know his group?” You asked, the girls shaking their heads. “Really? How could my girls not know about my boys?”
“We just recently got into the genre.” Ivy frowned, the others laughing. “Give us a break here.”
“Well, you're in for a wild ride once you get into them.” You laughed and gestured to the girls to sit closer. “And my boyfriend? His name is Haechan.”
Haechan watched as his 127 hyungs wandered about the practice room after their practice. He was standing next to Mark, drinking from his water bottle, clutching his phone in his hand as he listened to Mark go on about something one of the Dream members did the other day.
“Dude,” Mark waved a hand in front of Haechan’s face. “Are you listening?”
Haechan shrugged and stared at the floor. “Nope.”
“Are you okay?” Mark raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been spacing out for a while now. Is everything alright?”
“Everything is fine.” Haechan muttered, letting out a sigh. “Just tired, that’s all.”
“It’s Y/N, huh?” Mark asked, placing a comforting hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You miss her?”
Haechan closed his eyes and nodded slowly. “Yeah…”
“Awhhhh,” Jungwoo pouted as he enveloped Haechan in a hug. “Our Haechannie is a lovesick puppy.”
Haechan rolled his eyes and hugged Jungwoo back. “Hyung, please. I am not lovesick.”
Jungwoo scoffed and shook his head. “Whatever. We know better. And besides, how can you not miss your girlfriend when she’s gone?”
“Time differences sucks,” Haechan frowned, watching as the other 127 members made their way over to him. “Even though we have video calls and talk to each other on the phone, there’s nothing like seeing her face every morning and evening.”
“She’s coming home soon, right?” Taeyong spoke up, grabbing hold of Haechan’s other arm. “After Christmas?”
“I hope so.” Haechan answered quietly.
There was a silence amongst the rest of the 127 as they waited for the youngest member of the group to say something else. A few seconds passed before he cleared his throat and looked at them.
“Maybe if we wish really hard for her to come home, she will.” Taeil said hopefully. “I kind of miss having Y/N hanging around the practice room. She brightens up the place.”
“Is it weird that I miss Haechan’s and Y/N’s random ass pranks?” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “Like that time you taped some ladybug stickers on us while we were asleep.”
“Or when she would hide in the dark and then scare the crap out of everyone by popping out of nowhere,” Doyoung added.
“Those pranks never failed to make me laugh,” Yuta mused.
All of a sudden a noise filled the room and Haechan jumped, his hand immediately going to his pocket where he stored his cellphone.
“Y/N!” Haechan excitedly said as he smiled at you through his phone.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” You muttered, noticing Jaehyun popping his head in to wave hi. “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“It’s fine, babe. We just finished practice.” Haechan reassured you. “Where are you?”
“Sitting at this coffee shop.” You replied. “Doing some work.”
“Work sounds fun.” Haechan grinned. “So what is it that you’re working on? Writing some songs or something?”
“Yes, actually.” You smiled sheepishly. “But I’m still trying to figure out what I want to write about.”
“Well maybe I can help you.” Haechan offered. “Why don’t you send me a few of your songs and I’ll give you my opinion.”
“I would love that, babe.” you replied, a soft smile on your face. “How have you and the oppas been? And the rest of our chingus and dongsaengs?”
“Haha, we are great. Everyone’s well and taking care of business.” Haechan chuckled. “The older guys keep asking me about you, about when you’re going to be home so we can meet up again. It makes me happy knowing they miss you too.”
“Me too, Haechan. Me too.” You replied softly. “I’m going to end this call soon because I need to get some work done. So until tomorrow. Go get dinner with the oppas and have fun. I love you.”
“Love you too. Until tomorrow.”
You woke up early in the morning. Getting out of bed, you changed into your everyday clothes, grabbed your bag and headed out to grab some breakfast before you went to the studio. Before heading out, you decided to check your emails. Checking your inbox, you found an email from your company. You were surprised to find out that in addition to the songs that you were preparing for the girls in the U.S, the company offered you an opportunity to write a song for NCT for a winter special.
Specifically for the members Taeil, Doyoung, Jaehyun, and… Haechan.
You had to smile. You knew exactly what kind of song to write for them. You took their voices into account deciding to write a romantic ballad. It wasn’t the first time you wrote such a song, but you had to admit, it felt good to write this kind of song for your ‘boyfriend’.
You just hoped that you could finish it in time to send it off so that the guys could start recording it. But even if you couldn’t finish it on time, you had faith in your writing ability and knew that you would be able to write it.
Since winter was around the corner, you wanted to write a song that could relate to people who missed someone during the colder months. Being away from your loved ones during the holidays must be hard. That’s why you wanted to write a song that people would connect to easily. Something they could use as a mantra to remind themselves that the person they miss isn’t far away. That they have a place that is still home. They just needed to think about that special person. As much as it broke your heart thinking about being apart from Haechan, you knew that you'd go home to him one day and make sure he knows that no matter how far away you two were, he would always be close to your heart.
Walking into the studio, you greeted everyone and started your work. Hours later, you had the melody written and you only needed to add lyrics and chords.
It wouldn’t take long for you to complete the song and get it sent off. Maybe by tomorrow. You certainly hoped so. The sooner you sent it off, the faster you could hear it. But it needed to be perfect for the guys. Perfect for Haechan especially.
“I can’t wait for you to hear this, babe.” You whispered to yourself. "I can't wait for you to sing it..."
Thinking about it made you smile.
And you could almost imagine Haechan singing it. You wondered if he would be the first to record it. Or if someone else would. The possibilities seemed endless. You wished you could be there in Korea with Haechan. But until then, this song was a sign of things to come. Of how you’d spend your days missing him. Missing his voice. Smelling his scent. Everything about him.
Your fingers danced across the keyboard as you typed out the finishing lyrics. The words flowed out effortlessly and you smiled as you realized you were writing about your feelings towards Haechan. The butterflies in your stomach grew stronger as you remembered all the sweet moments you shared together. Moments that made you feel giddy, silly, and... loved. You were ready to share these emotions with the world.
With Haechan.
After finishing the song and playing a sample to the rest of the staff, you stood back to listen to the track. It sounded amazing. Just like you thought it would. Hearing your own creation was an amazing feeling. You always loved writing songs, but this was different. This was something personal. To you. For you.
"What's this?" Haechan asked his manager as the older man handed him a paper filled with lyrics. He was sitting in one of the conference rooms with Taeil, Doyoung and Jaehyun.
"This is a song." Manager Jung answered, smiling proudly. "For a Station song that you four will be singing for a winter release. It's called Coming Home."
"Wow." Haechan mumbled, flipping through the lyrics. "This is really beautiful."
"It is, isn't it?" Manager Jung grinned. "I'm really proud of everything she's doing. She even wrote a beautiful song for you guys."
"Who?" Doyoung asked curiously.
"Y/N," Manager Jung replied. "Y/N wrote this song specifically for you guys."
"Y/N?" Jaehyun raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Taeil let out a small whimper before enveloping Haechan in a hug. "Your girlfriend is a god sent. She wrote us a damn song!"
"What do you guys think?" Manager Jung turned to Taeil, Jaehyun and Doyoung.
"It's amazing." Doyoung smiled, hugging Haechan. "She put so much emotion into this. Can you believe it?"
"She took all our voices into account." Jaehyun added, hugging Taeil. "This is a perfect song."
Manager Jung nodded. "That's the point. I think it'll really resonate with your fans. Especially those who've missed their family and friends while living abroad."
Haechan smiled as he looked over the lyrics. His girlfriend never seemed to fail him. Not once since they started dating. She truly was a gift from above. An angel sent down to protect him. Who could ask for anything more?
"Can we listen to the demo?" Haechan asked.
Manager Jung nodded. "You're in for a treat because Y/N sang it herself."
"Let's listen." Haechan urged, turning up the volume.
Seconds into the demo, Haechan's eyes widened. He looked over at Taeil and Doyoung who had the same look on their faces. Both looked at each other and smiled, their eyes glowing with happiness. Even Jaehyun looked at Haechan as if they both shared a secret between them.
"She did this?" Haechan asked, incredulous. "Damn, this is beautiful."
They listened intently as Y/N's beautiful vocals flowed out of the speakers. Each note was beautifully sung and every word perfectly crafted. When they reached the bridge, Haechan's smile got bigger. He knew this part was the best. There was no way anyone could listen to this song without getting choked up. Without feeling the way he did. The way he always felt whenever Y/N sang a song. Every note was perfectly placed and they held meaning beyond just the song itself. She didn't just create music, she created emotion. She created magic.
And Haechan was lucky enough to be the one who saw it happen.
"We should hurry and record this. I don't want to lose this chance." Doyoung commented, smiling. "Let's try and record it this weekend. Hopefully we can finish it in time."
Manager Jung smiled. "Y/N will be happy that you all like it."
Haechan glanced over at Taeil, Doyoung and Jaehyun, a gentle smile on his face. This song was his gift. From his baby girl. A piece of her that he could hold on to forever. Even if they weren't together physically, they could always be together through the power of music. Through her beautiful voice. Her unique beauty. All the memories they made together would live on through their music.
Forever immortalized in song. A song written by his angel.
"Thank you, Y/N." He whispered quietly. "Thank you for loving me. Thank you for making this happen."
A few weeks later...
"Noona!" Seungeun, one of the staff members on the creative team that came with you from Korea, called out as soon as you stepped into the room. You walked over to where he was standing and noticed he was holding the remote control to the TV. Your eyes wandered to the other people in the room; Ivy, Sophie and Gemma on the couch, some of the American staff leaning against the walls or sitting in chairs, the Korean staff members all standing or sitting on the floor.
"What's going on?" You asked, shrugging your coat off and placing your bag next to you. "Is this a meeting or something?"
"No." Ivy answered. "This is another surprise."
"Manager Jung sent us a video link and told us to watch it when you get here." Seungeun explained. "He wants us to congratulate you."
Everyone in the room cheered.
"Y/N!" They yelled. "Congratulations! You deserve it!"
"I'm so confused," You laughed and joined the girls on the couch.
"Press play! Press play!" Gemma told Seungeun. "Don't leave us hanging!"
The video began and immediately you recognized Haechan's footsteps as walked into the screen. You let out a small smile as Doyoung's melodic voice filled the room, Haechan's soft vocals following right after.
"My time stopped
When I turned away from your crying self
I didn't even give you a last goodbye
Your warm heart said, "When you’re tired, come back and rest"
When I look back on my snowy way after a while, you're there
By the time when my trip is over, I'll know it
Like that time holding you in my heart
I’m coming home"
When Jaehyun and Taeil sang their parts in the chorus, you just knew. You wrote a perfect song for them. And now you were watching it come alive. You couldn't help but smile at how the boys made the song come alive. At how emotional and beautiful it sounded to have such amazing singers bring your words to life.
You couldn't help it when a tear threatened to fall when you looked at Haechan's beautiful face in the music video. If you closed your eyes, you could see him as he sang the song, looking absolutely gorgeous in front of the camera. His brown hair glistened as he stared down at the camera. Eyes filled with passion. Passion that matched the lyrics you wrote for him. A passion that hadn't died even though you hadn't been able to see him in months. The tears spilled down your cheeks as the video ended and you wiped them away, smiling at the memory of how incredible the video was.
The room fell silent for several seconds. Everyone's gaze fixated on you.
You glanced around the room nervously. Everyone was staring at you, waiting for you to speak.
"I'm sorry about that," You finally said, clearing your throat and wiping at your face. "I didn't mean to cry. I-it was just-"
Gemma jumped up from the couch, startling everyone in the room. She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you closer.
"It's okay." She murmured, squeezing you tight. "Just let it out."
"I haven't seen him in months." You mumbled, burying your face into Gemma's shoulder. "Seeing him sing made me so emotional."
"You miss him." Sophie whispered.
"A lot." You admitted. "Even more than I ever imagined. More than any of you probably realize."
Gemma let go of you and walked over to Ivy. They exchanged a few words before returning to sit down next to you again. Sophie wrapped her arm around your shoulders and gave you a comforting squeeze.
"You know, seeing him perform your song was probably one of the most special moments of my entire life." Sophie mused, stroking your cheek softly. "Seeing you write something so heartfelt for him..."
"Yeah." You sighed. "I didn't think it would make me so emotional."
"That's understandable." Sophie chuckled. "If it wasn't Haechan or the other guys who were in that video, I'd be crying too."
"Eonni," Minjung, another staff member of the creative team, rushed to you, her phone in her hands. "You have a video call."
You looked down at the screen and gasped.
There was Haechan, smiling brightly at you. Your smile widened when you noticed Taeil was standing next to him, grinning happily. And then there was Jaehyun and Doyoung, sitting behind Haechan, rubbing Haechan's back gently.
"Babe? What's wrong? You look like you were crying. Did something happen?" Haechan asked, concern written all over his face.
You pressed your finger to your lips and shook your head. "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine."
Jaehyun raised his eyes. "Did you watch the music video, Y/N?"
"Is that why it looked like you were crying?" Doyoung asked.
"Baby, you cried?" Haechan interjected. "Why? I thought it would make you happy-"
"It made me incredibly happy." You assured him. "But watching it also made me sad. Sad that I'm not there."
"I feel like that too." Haechan confessed. "Seeing you being so far away from me makes me feel sick. It's killing me."
Taeil sighed loudly and pulled the other two men to their feet. "Let's leave Haechan and Y/N to speak alone."
The boys bowed to you and left the room quickly.
"I miss you, babe." Haechan muttered through the phone. "I wish I could pick you up and hold you in my arms right now."
"I wish I could do that too." You admitted. "I miss you so much."
"Me too." Haechan agreed. "Thank you for the song, babe. Thank you for writing something so wonderful for me. My love for you grows stronger every day."
"And my love for you grows stronger every single day." You said quietly. "Every time I hear your voice, I fall deeper in love with you. I can't stop thinking about you. I dream about you all the time. But when I wake up, it's always just a dream."
"But it isn't a dream anymore, babe." Haechan reminded you. "And when you open your eyes, I will be there."
"Yes, Haechan." You smiled. "When I open my eyes, you will be there."
"I can't wait for you to open your eyes, babe." He promised. "I can't wait until you come home."
"Soon." You promised. "Very soon."
As soon as you hung up, the Korean staff members rushed to you and hugged you tightly. You cried for a little longer, but eventually managed to pull yourself together.
"You guys are so sweet." You said once you managed to catch your breath. "But don't worry about me. I'm okay. Really."
"Are you sure?" Minjung asked worriedly. "We wouldn't mind staying with you if you need someone to talk to."
"Thanks, Minjung, but it's really okay." You reassured her. "I promise. I'm fine."
"Okay, eonni." Minjung nodded. "Just remember that we’re always here."
Everyone was looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to explain what had happened.
You gulped. How was it possible to explain what you just did? How was it possible to explain how the sound of his voice made you melt inside? How you missed him so much that it hurt? How you dreamed about him every night and hoped that one day you would be able to be with him again? How you felt like nothing in the world could tear you apart if you were with him?
Well, all those things couldn't be described with mere words.
"Noona," Seungeun looked at the rest of the team before looking at you. They all seemed to be in silent agreement about something. "Should we...go home?"
"Yeah." You nodded slowly. "Let's go home."
“Haechan, I’m coming home.”
Haechan couldn't believe his eyes when you walked into the practice room. When he saw you standing there, his heart nearly stopped beating. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as he watched you approach him. He walked towards you slowly, stopping when you reached him.
His fingers brushed lightly against your cheek. You closed your eyes as you leaned into his touch.
"Haechan, I'm home." You breathed.
He smiled widely, stepping forward and kissing you softly.
"I missed you." He whispered, brushing his lips against yours once more.
"I missed you too, baby." You whispered back. "I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I woke up."
"How long has it been?" He asked curiously. "Since you last kissed me?"
"Too long." You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "It's been way too long."
"Maybe I should keep you locked in my room from now on." He teased.
"You're welcome to try." You snickered. "I promise I won't fight you."
"Deal." He grinned, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too." You admitted, sighing contentedly.
"Get a room or something, lovebirds." You heard Johnny snicker from across the room. "I can hear you two kissing from here."
"It's nice to see you too, Johnny." You chuckled. "I would say hi, but honestly, I'm kinda busy right now."
"Busy sucking face?" Mark laughed, opening his arms to give you a hug. "Welcome home, Y/N."
"Thanks, Mark." You smiled, hugging him back. "It feels good to be back."
"Y/N!" Taeil called, running over to you and giving you a big hug. "Welcome back! We missed you so much!"
"Hi, Taeil." You smiled. "It's good to be back."
"It looks like you already have your hands full." Mark chuckled, watching you give some of the Dream and WayV members hugs. "I wonder who else is going to run over to you."
"Can't help that I'm everyone's favorite person." You shrugged. "They practically attack me whenever they see me."
"Can't believe that I have to fight everyone for your affection." Haechan mumbled, wrapping an arm around your waist and kissing your temple. "I am fighting against all odds."
"It's okay." You laughed. "Fighting for my affection is totally worth it."
"I missed you so much." Haechan mumbled, nuzzling his nose into your neck. "Please don't leave me again."
"Don't worry, Haechan." You promised, turning your face so you could kiss him. "As long as I have you by my side, no matter where I am, I'm never going anywhere."
"Thank god." Haechan sighed. "Otherwise, I might die from this torture."
"Stop being dramatic and take me home." You giggled, pulling away from him slightly. "I want to go home."
"Home sounds good." Haechan agreed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. "Do you want to go home right now? Or do you want to stay here a little bit longer?"
"Oh God, Haechan." You groaned, burying your face into his chest. "Take me home now. Please. I need you to take me home so I can give you your present."
"What present?" He asked, still holding you close.
"My surprise gift for you." You sighed. "Now please, before I change my mind."
"Okay, baby." Haechan grinned, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you out of the practice room. "Come on. Let's go home."
Once you got back to your apartment, Haechan put you down on the couch and went to get some water for you. You took a sip of the cool water as Haechan came back to join you.
"I'm gonna put you to bed." He said, standing in front of you.
"Oh no you don't." You laughed, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him down on top of you. "I'm not tired yet. And I haven't given you your present yet. So get off of me and let me give it to you."
"What kind of present?" He asked, trying to wriggle out of your grip. "Is it food? Because you know how much I love food."
"No, it's not food." You laughed. "It's much better than food. Much, much better."
"A massage?" He guessed, sitting up on his knees.
"Hmm, no." You sighed. "I think it's a lot more fun than that."
"More fun than food?" He repeated curiously. "More fun than a massage? Can you tell me what it is?"
"No." You smirked, pushing him onto his back. "But I'm pretty sure you're going to love it."
"Oh boy..." Haechan groaned, rolling his eyes playfully. "Whatever it is, I bet it's gonna make me lose my mind."
"Oh yeah, it's definitely going to make you lose your mind." You laughed, getting off of the couch and straddling him. "So shut up and let me show you what I got you."
"Go ahead, baby." Haechan encouraged, letting his arms slide down your sides. "I'm ready for whatever the present is. Show me."
With that, you drew your shirt over your head, revealing your lacy bra underneath. You let your hands glide over your breasts, feeling your nipples harden as you caressed them gently.
"God, these are beautiful." Haechan murmured appreciatively, reaching out and squeezing both of your breasts firmly. "This present is gonna blow my mind."
You smiled, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. As your tongue explored his mouth, Haechan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. After a few minutes, you pulled away slightly and reached behind you, unhooking your bra. You tossed it aside, smiling as Haechan stared at your bare breasts.
"You are such a tease." He growled, trying to pull you back down on top of him. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I can." You replied, pulling his shirt over his head and unbuttoning his pants. "And because I want to. Now stop complaining and enjoy the present."
With that, you slid your hand inside his pants and began to rub his cock through his underwear.
"Oh fuck, yes." Haechan moaned, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the couch. "That feels so good. What are you doing to me?"
"Giving you your present." You smiled, slipping your hand inside his boxers and stroking his dick with a firm grip. "Like you wanted me to."
"God, you drive me crazy." Haechan groaned. "I wish you'd hurry up and finish. I need to feel you."
"Hmmm, maybe later." You replied, kissing him softly. "For now, you need to be patient."
"Fuck patience." Haechan growled. "I'm gonna explode if you keep teasing me like this."
"Oh yeah?" You smiled. "How will you explode then?"
"All over your tits." He answered quickly, undoing your jeans and pushing them down along with your panties. "Or all over your ass. Maybe even on your stomach."
"Mmm, I'm liking your ideas." You purred, running your hand over his erection as you pushed his jeans and boxers off. "Tell me, baby, which part of my body do you want to cum on first?"
"Anywhere you want." He replied eagerly. "I'll cum everywhere if you ask me to."
"You're a very horny man, aren't you?" You chuckled, squeezing his shaft gently. "Just how much have you been fantasizing about me while I was gone?"
"Enough to shoot a load." He answered without hesitation. "Every time I close my eyes, I picture you naked, rubbing your tits over my face. Or walking around naked, showing me your perfect body. Don't tell me you haven't been fantasizing about me like that too?"
"Of course I have." You laughed, cupping his balls in your other hand. "I fantasized about you almost every night. How could I not? I'm in love with you, you silly man."
"I love you too, baby." Haechan smiled, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "I love you so fucking much."
"Good." You sighed, sliding down so you were sitting between his legs. "I'm glad we understand each other."
With that, you lowered your head down and took his throbbing cock into your mouth, slowly taking him in. He shuddered as you started sucking him gently, moving your tongue over the tip. He closed his eyes and threw his head back against the couch, moaning loudly.
"Holy shit." Haechan gasped, gripping the couch tightly. "This is amazing."
"You really like that, huh?" You asked, keeping your rhythm slow and steady.
"Love it." He replied breathlessly. "So much."
You continued to suck him slowly, alternating between licking his shaft and swirling your tongue around his head. After a few minutes, he stopped thrusting his hips and opened his eyes, staring at you with lustful eyes.
"Are you ready to cum, baby?" You whispered, licking your lips seductively. "If you are, just say the word and I'll swallow everything you give me."
"I'm so ready." Haechan panted. "Give me your tongue, Y/N. I want you to taste me when I come."
"So do I." You whispered, licking your lips and lowering your head to his lap.
You swirled your tongue around his shaft once more, this time focusing on the sensitive underside. His breathing became faster and quicker, until finally he released his seed into your mouth, coating your tongue with his sweet taste. You swallowed as much as you could, savoring the taste of his release. Once you had finished swallowing, you raised your head to look up at him. He was looking at you with pure lust in his eyes, clearly pleased with the blowjob you had given him.
"Better than expected." He breathed. "Come here baby. Let me feel you against me."
Straddling his hips, you settled yourself between his legs and looked down at him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"Wow, you look so sexy like that." Haechan mumbled, running his fingers through your hair. "It's hard to imagine that anyone else would ever be able to make me feel this way."
"Trust me, there's nothing else that makes me feel this good." You assured him. "Nothing compares to you."
"Same here." He smiled, kissing your lips lightly. "I've missed you so much, baby."
"I've missed you too." You whispered, resting your head on his shoulder. "Now show me how much you miss me."
"Gladly." Haechan growled, lifting you up so he could position himself inside you.
"Hmmm." You hummed in response, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. "There's nothing better than having my boyfriend buried deep inside me after he's been deprived of it for months."
Haechan leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours passionately, pulling you deeper into the kiss. You returned the kiss with equal passion, pulling him tighter and tighter as you felt his cock begin to fill you up.
As Haechan continued to push into you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his body, grinding your hips against him. You held on tight to his shoulders, reveling in the feeling of his hard cock inside you again. You hadn't realized how much you had missed being fucked by him until he was finally there, filling you completely.
"Fucking perfect." Haechan panted. "Feels so good to be inside you again. Fuck."
With that, he increased the speed of his movements, slamming himself into you over and over again. Each thrust made you moan louder, driving him wild.
"You love it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" He grunted, tightening his hold around you and grinding harder.
"Please! Yes! Oh god...don't stop...keep going...don't stop!" You begged, panting as Haechan kept up his relentless pace. "Not yet...not yet..."
As you heard the words leave your lips, Haechan slowed down slightly and reached down between your legs, grabbing your clit and pinching it gently. Your whole body tensed as he did this, making you moan in pleasure.
"Ahhhh...oh god...you bastard..." You moaned, losing control as Haechan teased you mercilessly. "Don't stop...I need it...so bad..."
He didn't listen though, continuing to rub your clit, increasing the pressure of his thrusts slowly but surely. You tried to resist, but Haechan was simply too strong. Eventually, he managed to break through your resistance and you came undone under his ministrations, screaming out his name as your orgasm swept over you. Haechan threw his head back, groaning as he pumped his cock into you one last time before shooting his seed into your hot pussy.
You collapsed on top of him, lying on his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. Your heart was still pounding wildly from the intensity of your climax, but Haechan's strong embrace seemed to calm your nerves, making you feel safe and protected.
"Are you okay?" Haechan asked, pulling back slightly to look at you.
"Yeah, I'm fine." You answered, grinning at him. "I needed that."
"Well, then you definitely deserved it." He said, kissing your cheek. "I missed you so much. It's so nice to be able to touch you again."
"Mmm, me too." You replied, snuggling closer to him. "Especially after spending all those nights in bed alone. At least we get to spend the rest of our time together in bed, now."
"True." Haechan agreed. He lifted you up and made his way to your bedroom, laying down with you in bed. "And this time we're together. No more long distance. No more phone calls or emails. Just you and me, together."
"Yes, together." You agreed, burying your head against his chest. "Forever and always."
"Y/N?" Haechan questioned, lifting your head and brushing some hair away from your face.
"Hmm?" You responded, staring at him with sleepy eyes.
Haechan pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Thank you for coming home."
"Anything for you, baby." You replied softly, closing your eyes and falling asleep next to him.
#nct#nct stories#nct fanfic#nct imagines#nct 127#nct dream#nct smut#nct haechan#lee haechan#lee donghyuck#haechan x reader#haechan smut
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Happy when you're around | Florence Pugh
Paring: Florence Pugh x Reader
Summary: You're helping your girlfriend film her newest Cooking with Flo video, and help her with a Q&A on Instagram live.
Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 707
Florence was dancing around the kitchen, between the chopping of vegetables and stirring in pots. She was in the process of filming a Cooking with Flo episode. You were behind the camera making sure to get all the right angles to give her fans the best experience.
You loved how at ease Florence was in front of the camera, she had to be with her job of course but this was different. She connected with her fans, talked to them, even when her episodes weren't live and she couldn't see their responses or have a two way conversation with them. She never failed to find a new topic to talk about.
As a bonus Florence posted an extra story on her Instagram for her followers to send in questions, after she posted all the parts to the Cooking with Flo. She was nervous because she had never done this before, but she was excited when she saw all the questions come pouring in.
Florence wanted to answer the questions on an Instagram live. So, you suggested putting up a tripod to film her and to read the questions aloud from your phone, that way it was more like an interview. Flo thought it was a good idea, it eased her nerves a bit.
"Hi, everyone! I hope you enjoyed that little Cooking with Flo." She started. She knew how much they love the series, as they're always requesting more. "Thank you so much for all the questions you've sent in. My lovely girlfriend, behind the camera, will read as many of them out for me before we have to leave. I hope to answer as many as I can!"
You looked at Florence to give you the sign to ask the first question. Once she did you read one out for her. "Let's start off with a food related question, what is your favorite dish to make?" - "Hm that's a good one, I love so many. Honestly, I think my favorite thing to do is to create a dish from the leftovers we have. I get to be more creative and challenge myself."
You continue with the next question, "Are you working on any new projects at the moment?" Florence looks at you and smiles. "We just finished the press tour for A Good Person. If you haven't seen it yet, it's out in theaters now!" She plugs while making finger guns towards the camera. "But to answer your question, no not at the moment. I've had a busy couple of years work wise and while I'm very happy with that, I want some time with my girlfriend. So, I'm taking a couple of months off, and we're going to travel together. I've got some auditions planned before we go, so who knows after our trip I might have some new projects coming up."
You continue asking more questions, when you stumble upon one with your name. "Haha I like this one, I'd like to know your point of view on this. What is y/n like when she's filming your Cooking with Flo videos?" Florence moves her hands in a come here motion. "If you all don't mind, I'm gonna bring her in front of the camera for this one."
Once you sit down next to her, she starts answering the question. "Y/n is amazingly supportive behind the camera, and in general. She's very detail oriented and knows exactly what I want to show and when I want to give you all a closer look at something. Besides that I also have the cheesy answer, which is that she's beautiful behind the camera, and she always looks at me with the most admiring smile." You blush at all her compliments.
"That's because I'm always happy when you're around." You say while leaning into her more. She puts her arm around you. You see the screen filled with lovely messages from the audience and feel the smile on Florence's face. "We have to get going now, but I promise I'll answer more questions soon! Thank you for joining us and I hope you'll all have a wonderful day." With that you end the live and cuddle up to your girlfriend, before you have to get ready.
#florence pugh#florence pugh x reader#florence pugh x female reader#florencepugh#cooking with flo#florence pugh fluff#florence x reader
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The Wood | JHS | (m)
☾ Pairing: witch!Hoseok x female reader
☾ Summary: From the moment you step foot in Kill Devil, you know something about the town is off. Determined to find out exactly how your sister went missing in such a small town, you receive unlikely help from the man staying in the motel room next to yours. But there is so much more than what meets the eye with Hoseok and the citizens of Kill Devil.
☾ Word Count: 16,786
☾ Genre: supernatural, psychological thriller, southern-gothic
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
☾ Warnings: Creepy town vibes somewhere in the south, unreliable narrator because she’s a dumb bitch, missing family member, descriptions of nightmares and night terrors, allusions to toxic citizens and intolerance in the southern US, cryptic exchanges, being attacked and choked by a strange entity, sleep paralysis, depictions of anxiety and panic and deep fear, manipulation, cat Yoongi.... sort of, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, slight hand job, a lot of spit and cum, fucking in a nasty ass motel room, mean Hoseok at the end, I don't know why I reference frogs so much please forgive me, ambiguous ending/unexplained ending, implied death of a side character off-screen
☾ Published: May 29, 2022
☾ A/N: Not only is this absolutely a million weeks late, it also is the longest it has ever - and I mean ever - taken me to write a fic. This was so hard for me to write, and I have deleted anad re-written thousands of words for this. The end result is something that I absolutely did not plan. This fic is ENTIRELY different from the original outline and idea, so at times it might seem where this piece doesn’t know where it’s going because it wasn’t until I got to the end of the smut scene last night that I realized what the hell this story needed.
I want to thank @here2bbtstrash because I could not have written this fic without them, but also for the amazing and thorough beta they gave this. This was one of my choppier/messier pieces and they helped fix this so much and I have giant feelings for M that are very normal. Also a special thank you to @gimmethatagustd for keeping me somewhat sane while really struggling with this piece.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | To Love A Monster Collab | Song Inspiration
Only God can save us!
It’s probably the tenth sign of the like that you’ve seen. Your palms feel sweaty on the wheel, the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you drive through God’s Country increasing. For some reason, as you catch glimpses of old abandoned churches at the end of red dirt roads and leaning fruit stands with no seller in sight, you think that perhaps God has forsaken this place.
The drive has been unremarkable, but the closer you get to Kill Devil you think perhaps the town is aptly named. You can’t help but get the sense - especially when you stop at a gas station with no one inside and a single working pump - that there is a reason the town sports such a unique title.
It’s hard to imagine why your sister would ever move here, even temporarily. Outside, the locusts whine, a high-pitched buzzsaw hidden in the boughs draped with Spanish moss. The paint on the road has long since faded, single lanes stretching North to South in an endless strip.
Sticky heat prickles your skin. Though there’s no one else around save for you and the locusts, you can’t help but look around nervously, eyes scouring the oak trees. The door to the gas station is locked, and the other side of your single-station pump has a red bag on the handle.
The sk sk sk of the pump is a slow heartbeat. Pulling out your phone while you wait, your stomach flips when you see that you have very little service. You’re about thirty minutes away from Kill Devil and an hour away from any major cities. Peppered along the map are small towns like Kill Devil, home to pecan farms, corn fields, and cotton gins.
You feel a long way from home.
A tingle slides down the back of your neck. You look up from your phone, gaze sweeping back and forth through the trees and over the cracked pavement of the station. There’s nothing else there, but you have the sense that the trees have eyes.
The pump clicks loudly and your heart lurches, hand flying to your chest as you shriek and turn. For a few moments, your heart beats so loudly in your ears you can’t hear the chirping of the locusts or your ragged breathing as you close your eyes, trying to level out your moment of panic.
“Fuck,” you mutter, pulling the handle and jiggling it lightly to ensure any dripping gas is shaken off.
Naturally, you’re a pretty calm person. The jumpiness belongs to your mother, who screams every time someone turns a corner in the house unexpectedly. It’s something about the feeling that clings to you like a second skin as you get in the car that has you shaken.
Or it’s the fact that your sister has been missing for two months.
On instinct, your hand goes to the necklace around your throat. It’s a heart-shaped locket, which would seem cheesy to anyone else. But for you, it’s one of the few coveted items you have from her.
It’s also something that you swear burned you in the middle of the night two months ago. You’re not sure if you believe in spiritual intuition or connection between family members, but what you do know is that you haven’t heard from her, and the local police have been no help.
Trust your gut. That’s what she’s always said. And you do trust your gut on this, this knowing that something is wrong.
On the road again, your tension continues to increase. The land has turned to steep up and down hills, pines lined on either side of the road, pocked with deep canyons.
Orange tire tracks appear and disappear on the highway, turning off onto clay roads with washed-out shoulders and deep ruts from all of the rain over the summer. Your sister had mentioned the house she was renting was nearly impossible to get to when the rain was bad.
A green sign that says Kill Devil City Limits passes by. No welcome sign, no little plaque announcing the population. Your music skips in and out, the connection to your phone weak. You switch to FM, flinching at the roaring static that comes through, finger jamming on the arrows to skip through to something passable.
Country. Country. Church. Country. Rock. Pop.
You leave it on the pop station, turning your eyes back to the road. A logging truck comes roaring up the hill, blasting by your sedan at top speed, making your car shake. Your heart squeezes in fear. You’ve passed over two dozen of them and they never drive any slower or any safer each time.
You’re going to kill Hanna if you find her lounging in her house, making you come all this way.
She had taken up a story there, investigating the town's eerie occult background for the media company that she worked for. Her editor had stopped receiving updates from her around the same time you’d stopped hearing from her.
When you called the landlord she was renting from, he was no help. Some idiot who owned seventeen houses dotted around the country, renting them out for twice the price they were worth.
The local police station had been worse. They’d done a wellness check several times after you called but insisted she wasn’t home. No signs of a break-in, no signs of a struggle. No reason to be missing. They refused to make it an official report, as there was no reason for her to be missing.
Have you considered she just doesn’t want to talk to you? they’d laughed on the phone.
It was a joke. Somehow you could not believe they refused to file a report, and you threatened to take it to the state police and anyone who would listen to you. The woman you had spoken to had chuckled then, her mirth sending a chill up your spine.
Have fun on hold, sweetheart.
You could not fathom how not a single person cared. Not the news, not any authority that you could get in contact with, and certainly not the lawyer you reached out to.
Let law enforcement handle it. Your pleas fell on deaf ears and it was like it didn’t even matter that an entire person was missing. You’d heard about the blunders of the law enforcement system before, but this was a new level of ignorance and oddity.
It was… unexplainable.
Which was why now, you were driving into the backwater town of Kill Devil in the southern part of the United States.
Dropping your speed down, you take the chance to look around. There are a few houses on the outskirts of the town, their yards sprawling with kudzu and their homes leaning heavily with brown vines climbing up the eaves. There are several old, broken-down trucks in the middle of the kudzu fields, swallowed by the invasive vine-like devil’s snare.
You’d heard of one-stop-light-towns but you had never seen one without. Kill Devil is made up of all stop signs. Everything is built around the courthouse, a red brick building dropped in the middle like a fungus growing its roots outward.
The sheriff’s office is just across the street with Crown Victoria model patrol cars. A taxidermist is right next door, the gold cursive font on the front of the glass door telling you it’s been there since the 70s.
Kill Devil has everything you expect. Antique shops with dusty windows and dry-rotted awnings, a convenience store that looks straight out of retro America, closed-down shops with empty shelves and shattered glass, and a single diner with station wagons and mud-slicked trucks in the parking lot.
A single motel stands at the edge of the town center. When you pull into the parking lot, you look up at the sign and frown. Like something out of a horror movie, the Lodging Motel is missing several letters in long-burnt-out neon, three letters blinking in the fading afternoon sun: Lodging Motel.
Die.
With one look at the crusted, three-paneled windows and mold-covered brick face, you think that you just might die.
Pink sun sinks behind the rolling hills of pine. You get out of the car, stretching and popping your joints as you look at your lodging with a sour taste in your mouth. You pass the ‘vacant’ sign as you walk to the small square building at the end with ‘front office’ on the window.
“Yeah no shit,” you mutter. You cannot imagine who would stay here out of anything but necessity.
In fact, it seems like there is no one staying at the hotel. This fact makes you jumpy as you approach the office, which is just a clerk's window and a woman with sunken eyes and a scowl on her face watching you. You swallow thickly as you give her a weak smile and nervous wave, trying to get past the sudden anxiety trembling in your hands.
“Hi,” you say. “I have a reservation for-”
A small window that’s about six inches tall and a foot wide pops open. She hacks, fluid-sounding and phlegmy before saying, “I can’t hear you with the damn window closed. What do you want?”
You clench your jaw. Slowly, you begin again. “I have a reservation.”
“ID and credit card.”
You slide the materials through the window. She holds them up close to her face, scrutinizing them. Crickets join the singing of the locusts. Mosquitos fly around your head and you cringe, swatting at them as you wait while she rolls her chair over to a cabinet.
Wordlessly, she puts your credit card on a manual credit card imprinter. You raise your brows, unsure of the last time you’ve seen someone do paper credit card printing instead of sliding it through a machine.
While you wait, you look past her into the office. It’s dingy inside but you can see a box TV and a window unit air conditioner rattling in the window. There are metal cabinets that form their own little skyscrapers around her office. An episode of I Love Lucy plays on the fuzzy TV screen.
“Here’s your room key.” She tosses it through the window. It’s room three, the key hanging on a diamond-shaped, acrylic keychain with Lodging Motel written in Sharpie. “We don’t got room service or maid service. If you need more towels, the launder-mat is down the street. Don’t run the hot water more than twenty minutes or so. If the AC ain’t on, hit ‘er a few times.”
“Great,” you deadpan. “Anything else?”
She scowls. “Mind the raccoons. They got rabies.”
“Thanks.”
Inside the room is just as expected: peeling wallpaper, red shag carpet with questionable stains and the unmistakable stench of cigarettes, sconce lighting with lampshades that look decades old, a twin with a horrible patterned blanket, frayed at the edges and moth-eaten, and a single, square dresser with a box TV on top and a white, corded phone.
The bathroom is no better. The tub is stained with limescale, cracked tiles, and a lamp that buzzes when you flip it on. You scream when you see the massive roach hanging out in the tub, gagging and running out to look for anything to kill it with.
You settle on a sneaker, and it’s a battle involving your high-pitched scream as you try and kill it. You do win, but you’re covered in sweat and shaking after your victory.
A sharp knock on the door startles you further. You drift to the front door, looking out the peephole to find that it is cracked and you cannot see the person standing just on the other side. You slide the chain lock in and open the door tentatively, peering out into the now early night.
“Everything okay?” a male voice asks. “I heard screaming.”
The voice belongs to someone who absolutely does not belong in Kill Devil. He’s dressed in jeans with large rips at the knee and a plain white shirt that hangs off his frame stylishly. He has a few necklaces on, a single hoop hanging from his right ear that catches the flickering parking lot light.
And he’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that stuns you. He has a slender face with smooth, flowing skin. His eyes are kind, glittering brown with flecks of lighter shades throughout. The slope of his cheekbones and jawline makes you think perhaps he’s into modeling, which would explain the taste in clothes.
But it does not explain what someone who looks like that is doing in this shithole town.
“I had to kill a roach,” you admit, a little hesitant. Your skin tingles under his gaze, your instincts picking up something that you can’t put your thumb on. “I don’t like them very much and it was fast.”
“Disgusting. I had to buy killer for them - it came in a two-pack if you want?” You don’t answer, watching him warily. He picks up on your anticipation and smiles, disarming. “Sorry - my name is Hoseok. You can call me Hobi, if you’d like. I’m staying next door which is just as gross as your room is I’m sure. I heard you yell and I got worried.”
“That’s kind of you. This doesn’t seem like a place where people would care if they heard screaming.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not from here.” He looks around the parking lot and his eyes focus on a raccoon meandering near the trash. You grimace, thinking about rabies. “Thank fuck, this place feels right out of fucking Deliverance.”
You can’t help but laugh, feeling better at his distaste. “One sec, let me slide the lock off.” You close the door and slide the chain before opening it a little wider this time. “Yeah, this place gives me the creeps. Hopefully, I don’t have to be here long.”
“A night is long enough. You want that spray?”
“Yeah, that would be great.”
Hoseok grins and holds up a finger, asking you to wait as he jogs to his room. He’s only gone for a moment, leaving you in the poorly lit lot with the tk tk tk of the raccoon pilfering through trash and the crickets creek creek creeking.
Hoseok’s door opens and he’s back, handing you a large, red can of lemon-scented Raid. “Just make sure you drown them. They did outlive the dinosaurs. Makes you wonder what the hell is in that stuff.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem…” He drifts off, unsure what your name is. You laugh, a little flustered by the way his entire face lights up when he smiles, and give him your name. “I like it. Well, I don’t know how long you’re here, but I’m your neighbor for a few days. Try not to catch any infections while you’re in there and holler if you need me.”
“Thanks,” you grin. You hold up the can and add, “Especially for this.”
With a wave goodnight, Hoseok returns to his room. The buzz of something instinctual fades with him, replaced once more with the unsettling frequency the town seems to vibrate at.
Closing the door firmly behind you and flicking the lock, you shiver. The eerie feeling that had been following you lingers.
After changing the sheets, inspecting the rest of the room and setting the spray can firmly on the pillow next to you, you lay on your back in bed, mattress lumpy and air conditioner rattling.
-
Moonlight streams through the curtain, catching dust motes floating in the air and turning them into diamonds. You stand in the middle of the room. Cold but humid air clings to your skin, the air conditioner rattling and dripping as it cools the room but does nothing to suck out the moisture. You don’t know why you’re standing in the middle of the room and you don’t remember waking up and getting out of bed, but you face the window, the curtains open just enough to face the empty parking lot.
Silence blankets the world. The hum of the air conditioner fades and you stare out into the silver-painted parking lot. Above the lot, a street light flickers on and off weakly. It goes out for a minute and flashes back on.
Someone leans against the pole. You can’t make out any features, just that there is a person there, perhaps facing you. The hair on your skin stands on end but you can’t move. Your instincts begin to prickle and there is a sharp feeling in your chest.
Belatedly, beyond your hypnotized stare, you realize the feeling is fear.
Your ears start to ring. You stare out at the shadow and the shadow stares back. Something is telling you to run run run but you don’t know how. Can’t move your feet. Panic begins to rise, your heart beating so fast that you can hear it over the steady whine in your ears.
Thump thump. Thump thump. Thumpthumpthumpthump.
You can feel your pulse skyrocketing, your chest squeezing tight with terror as the beating gets louder and louder -
Awareness hits you like cold water. You lurch forward in bed, hands flying to your chest as you gasp for air. It takes a moment to get your bearings, the pounding in your heart so hard it feels like you might vomit. Battling the sheets, you rip them off of you, legs sticky with a sheen of sweat.
The lamp is still on in your room, the curtains are closed just the way you left them, and the bug killer rolls on the bed as you get up. Several paces away from the window, you catch your breath, running a hand over your face.
“Fuck,” you pant, realizing you were dreaming.
When your breathing levels out, you glance at the closed curtains. Something niggles at your brain. Slowly, you walk toward the window, feeling the hairs on your arms tingle and stand on end.
Lifting your shaking hands, you grip the curtain tight. Taking a deep breath, you hold it in and pull open the curtain just a bit.
Unlike your dream, there’s no moonlight outside. It’s so dark you almost can’t see anything in the parking lot. When the lot light flickers back on, your heart squeezes, expecting to see a shadow leaning against the pole. There’s nothing there, just empty lot and a dumpster. Not even the raccoon is around.
Blowing out your held breath, you close the curtain again and shake out your hands, trying to get rid of the jitters. Rolling your neck and shoulders, you try to work out the tension as you sit on the end of the bed, staring at the faded wallpaper.
The dream felt so real. You swear that if you turn your head, you’ll see silver moonlight through the curtains. That you’ll see that person - that shadow - standing outside of your window.
Exhaustion weighs heavy on you. You crawl back into bed, mattress damp and smelling like mildew even with the sheets that you put on it. You’re under a lot of stress and you hate this motel room as much as you already hate this town that you’ve barely started to explore. It makes sense that you’re having weird dreams.
Blanket pulled up to your chin, you eventually let your lids flutter shut until you’re taken by dreamless sleep.
-
Morning sun chases away the dregs of your strange dream from the night before. With daylight streaming between the curtains, the room looks no better. It’s a futile hope, perhaps, to keep thinking that the room will suddenly not look nearly as questionable as when you checked in.
At least there are no bugs.
Outside, the balmy air is filled with the voices of the locusts. You lock the door behind you and glance toward where Hoseok vanished the night before. His windows are closed and there’s no sign of him anywhere in the parking lot, so you head to your car, stomach begging for food.
Kill Devil is small in both size and population. The Diner is easy to find, tucked in the southwest corner of the town across from the courthouse. Folks wander about the parking lot, shaking one another’s hands and laughing as the weekend rush of people meanders up the steps for breakfast.
Your arrival is noted immediately. Eyes turn your way as you walk through the lot, loose gravel crunching under your feet. The lot is more packed dirt than pavement, full of holes and mud softened by rain.
Seeing a new face in a wretched little town like this probably isn’t common. Though you’re not familiar with growing up in such a small population, you remember what it was like knowing everyone at school. The same theory applies here when a portly man with raised brows stands, screen door in hand as he stares at you.
The man blocks the way to the inside of the diner. You pause and look up, noting the confusion on his face. After clearing your throat, he realizes that he’s completely frozen from opening the door and coughs, bowing his head and apologizing.
“You uh - visiting?” he asks, holding the door open for you. When you nod, he seems surprised, though that had to be the only answer. “Well, that doesn’t happen often. Welcome to Kill Devil.”
There’s a small host stand with a pile of laminated menus on top. A girl who looks to be about your age stares back at you, wiping her hands on a red apron tied around her waist. She’s in jeans and a t-shirt that says The Diner across the chest, her hair pulled up and stabbed through with a pen.
“Just you?” she asks, eyes fluttering to the man who shrugs behind you. You nod. “Right this way.”
The wooden walls are painted white, some of the paint peeling. There are miscellaneous animal heads with plaques underneath stating the names of their killers with a stamp of Jason’s Taxidermy. You try not to make eye contact with their black, glass eyes as you sit in a chair that wobbles from side to side.
You thank the hostess as she wanders off to get you coffee. The family at the table next to you does their best to whisper about who the hell is that as you look over the menu, flipping it to the breakfast side. The laminate is sticky and peeling at the corners.
It’s a pretty standard breakfast menu. You put it down on the table, nudging the container holding different colored sugar packets and sweeteners while you wait for your coffee. There’s a breakfast bar with people bent over steaming eggs and sitting atop cracked vinyl seats.
The door opens behind you at a steady rate as people pay their bills and leave while new customers are sitting. A presence at your back sends a cool tingle up your spine, making you straighten and look over your shoulder.
Hoseok stands in a shaft of sunlight coming through the window, turning him gold. For a moment, the diner around you falls to a hush of murmured voices, muting the clinking of spoons against ceramic and scraping chairs.
He’s dressed well again, in a simple white button-up with the button undone to reveal a strip of golden chest. His hair is slightly damp and styled back, an outrageously good look on him. The same hoop earring dangles in his ear but today he has on a few necklaces and rings on his fingers. Somehow, he makes the delicate pieces carry an edge.
“You survived the night, huh?” he says by way of greeting and then gestures to the chair across from you. “Would you mind company for breakfast?”
You shake your head, forgetting words for a moment as he smiles, radiant as ever. Hoseok pulls out the chair and sits down, a twinkle in his eye that makes your heart flutter as he plucks a menu from the holder at the center of the table. You can smell his rain and lavender scent from across the table.
“Thanks again,” you say, realizing you haven’t spoken yet. His brown eyes look at you over the top of the menu, and you can’t help but admire how beautiful they are. Warm, both dark and light, with flecks of chipped gold. “For the bug killer. I haven’t seen any more but I just know they’re there.”
“That’s the shitty thing about the South. All of God's least favorite creatures are here.” He glances at the table of scowling men next to you to emphasize. You hide your laughter with the plastic menu. “What brings you to this shit hole?”
“I’m… visiting my sister.”
“You sound unsure of that. Does she not know you’re coming?”
“She doesn’t.”
While they aren’t technically lies, you don’t know how much you can trust him. Instinct makes you hold the truth from him. After all, you don’t want him to know you’re in a town where no one knows you, and where no one knows you are. By yourself.
Hoseok looks at you again, his eyes narrowed. You feel tension creep into the air between you, your mouth drying out as he watches you silently.
The arrival of the hostess who is also your server saves you from another question. You both place your order, and you note the way the girl cuts her eyes to Hoseok, wary. Her hands shake a little.
When she leaves the two of you, you ask, “How long have you been here?”
“A few weeks.”
“Enough to win over the locals, hmm?”
His grin is sly as he drums his fingers on the table. “I’m their favorite - you’re perceptive.”
“My sister is an investigative journalist. She’s made me watch all kinds of shows and read books about psychology and body language with her. I picked up a few things.”
“An investigative journalist, huh?” Hoseok plucks a sugar packet and rips it open with his teeth. He shoots the ripped piece onto the table with a huff of air and dumps the contents on the table. Leaning on one elbow, he begins to trace patterns in the sugar. “So you’re not from here. No one here is smart enough for that.”
“No, she’s been living here since July.”
“What’s she investigating?” You hesitate again. He doesn’t look up from the patterns he’s tracing on the table, finger steady as it cuts through the white sugar.
“I don’t really know.” He does look up when you say that, gaze razor-sharp. A chill slides up your spine. So you add, “Something to do with the occult.”
Hoseok stops moving his finger through the sugar. He doesn’t look at you, but he’s fixated on the mess he’s made on the table. You chew on your bottom lip, eyes dropping to his little sweetened artwork. You don’t understand the pattern that he’s traced, but it buzzes your brain when you look at it.
The silence stretches on. He remains unmoving and silent. Anxiety starts to creep in and you wonder if he thinks you’re crazy or is going to get up and leave-
With a huff of laughter, he leans back and smiles at you.
“The occult huh? Interesting subject.”
“Know anything about it?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, what is really considered occult? Most of these Bible thumpers around here would consider being queer witchcraft.”
“You have a point there. Don’t tell them I’m a witch.”
He grins. “You can join my coven, then.”
“Do you think they know there’s more than two genders?”
Hoseok’s laugh is infectious. You laugh along with him, visibly ruffling the feathers of the table next to you.
For a moment, the two of you share a secret smile at your little table, wedged between the people who go to church every Sunday and swear by Fox News at brunch. It feels good to know you’re not the only person completely out of place in Kill Devil.
The arrival of your server with steaming plates breaks the moment, but you feel better about your morning nonetheless. Especially when the conversation switches from stilted exchanges about your sister and the occult to things about you and Hoseok.
Over runny eggs on toast and crunchy bacon, you learn that Hoseok is a shop owner in a small town very far from Kill Devil. He brushes over the fact that he’s visiting family to tell you all about his small corner of the world and all of his favorite plants.
“Fiona is a venus fly trap,” he giggles with a snap of bacon. “She’s my second favorite, but what I really love is my pitcher plants. They eat bugs, mostly, but they like to devour frogs too. The frogs love to hide in them, but sometimes the pitcher plants take kindly to them and don’t eat them. It never lasts.”
“I would hate for them to eat the frogs.”
“Hmm, circle of life.”
“But the poor frogs!”
Hoseok isn’t swayed. “There has to be a balance to everything. The pitcher plants will kill the frogs eventually. Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey. Their ecosystem doesn’t make sense. In order to pay back the food the pitcher plants bring them, the frog must die. It pays for power, in the end.”
“How do you mean?”
“Everything has a give and take.” He pauses to sip his coffee. He makes a face, opens a sugar packet, and empties it into the coffee. “In order to have life, we must have death. In order to have water, we must have fire, for earth, we must have air. There is a give and take in existence, and it has to stay that way.”
“If it doesn’t?”
“Chaos.”
“You know, a lot of theology believes that chaos created the world.”
“And perhaps it did. But in order to make the world, chaos needed…” Hoseok takes his butter knife in one hand and sticks out his pointer finger with the other. You watch as he places the knife horizontally across his finger, sliding it just so until he slowly lets it go, leaving it teetering back and forth, but never falling. “Balance. There has to be even weight on the scales to make it work.”
“Interesting. So you think there is true balance in the world.”
“Not always, which is why we must make it.”
“Hmm. You have some interesting opinions.”
“I am an interesting person.”
You like Hoseok. Conversation flows easily and it seems that he either doesn’t notice or does not care that he draws glances around the room, particularly when he gives a high-pitched laugh, leaning backward on the metal legs of his chair to clap his hands excitedly. You swear you see the table next to you flinch, though you can’t imagine why.
Hoseok insists on paying the bill, though you fight him all the way to the register. The elderly woman behind the till jams the pricing in from the ticket and slams the cash drawer shut when Hoseok hands over the bills. She makes sure not to tell you to have a good day, and you feel her sharp stare as you leave the interior of The Diner.
In fact, the stares of the citizens are just as intense outside. Hoseok rattles on about a time he got really high and forgot to feed his cat. “Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”
“What?” you ask, distracted by the way a group of men leaning against a red pickup glare. “Your cat talks?”
“Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”
“No, but I’m sure he was very vocal.” Hoseok smirks, toeing the gravel of the parking lot as you reach your car. You glance over at the pickup truck again, seeing the four sets of eyes fixated on the two of you. “Why does everyone around here stare?”
“They’ll ignore you soon enough if you ignore them.”
“They don’t seem to ignore you.”
He gives you a wry smile. “I guess you’re right. Going to visit your sister, then?”
Digging around in your bag, you search for keys. “Yeah, she lives out in some place called Grave Hollow. How creepy is that?”
Silence is your only answer. You look up, pausing the search for your keys to find him staring at you with a blank expression. Your heart skips a beat - it’s the same wiped-clean face he had when you mentioned your sister investigating the occult.
Licking your lips, you ignore the feeling of a weighted stone dropping into your stomach. Hoseok says nothing.
Then, he’s chipper again. “Well have fun,” he chirps, shrugging and giving a wave as he backs away to leave. “Hopefully she has some cool occult stuff to tell you about. You know where to find me!
It’s hard to keep track of the way Hoseok’s mood flips on a dime. You stare after him, but he’s all smiles and sunshine again before turning on a heel to walk out of the parking lot. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he tilts his face toward the azure sky, whistling a tune with a happy cadence.
Something sticks to you as you watch him leave. You don’t know what it is, this feeling that you’re missing a critical detail. It’s like your instincts are scratching lightly at the door, but you have no key to flip the lock and no crowbar to force it open.
Anxiety returns when you remember the weight of the eyes still focused on you. Hurriedly, you snatch your keys from your bag and get in your car, tossing your bag on the seat and starting the engine. As soon as it purrs to life, you feel instant relief.
You hope that it lasts.
-
According to the research you’d done on Kill Devil, the town had been officially founded in the 1700s. Of course, being ‘officially’ founded didn’t mean much in the way of Western colonization. You had little doubt that the migration of people to the South chased out Native American tribes, as was the story everywhere.
Kill Devil has been named such since its inception, which occurred a little after Georgia had been named an official state. The abundance of soil for cotton and peanut fields made it a wet dream for the expansion of cotton gins and eventually, peanuts - there was even a rumor that peanut butter had been invented in Kill Devil first, but you knew that to be untrue.
A small town with a small impact. That was Kill Devil at the heart of its existence. It has always had a small population of sleepy folk. No stop lights, one church, a lot of paper companies coming in and cutting down trees, and some farming fields for various reasons.
There’s no reason that for a tiny little dot on the map, the town should be significant.
And yet it had called your sister here.
The car bounces, the suspension whining as you drive down the dirt road. A clay wall comes up on either side of you, roots of trees sticking out periodically. There’s no shoulder to the road, the rain has deepened the ruts on either side. You’re careful to keep in the middle, slowing down as the road tightens on corners.
Pine stretches as far as the eye can see. You pass the occasional neon tape, marking sections of trees for the paper company to let grow a little longer before hacking them down. Several metal gates with keep out and declaring different hunting clubs flash by. There’s even a sign that says Rucker’s Meat Processing.
GPS is unreliable out in the sticks where the cell towers don’t quite reach. You keep an eye on the flattened paper map in the passenger seat, marked with your red marker to make sure you take the right road.
A sigh of relief escapes you when you see a little metal post with a turn-off sign: Kill Ditch South. The house that your sister is renting lives off of that, only a mile down the road or so. Long drives appear between the trees, houses parked at the end of them. You feel a little less alone in the woods now knowing that there are people around.
Though you’re not sure how helpful they would be if something was wrong.
Worry creeps into your stomach as you slow the car. There’s a little mailbox with the address your sister gave you. It’s at the end of a short drive that’s been layered with gravel to make the incline easier on tires. It crunches beneath the tires as you drive toward the modest, white house. Your sister’s Four Runner is parked outside, making your heart thunder.
Turning the car off, you slide out into the humid air, hands trembling. Locusts scream, hidden in the trees. The sun is at its zenith, beating down on you as you slowly walk toward the house. It’s a single-story with two sets of windows facing the front. A wrap-around porch that leans to the side stands empty, save for a single bench.
As you pass your sister's car, you notice that the grass underneath is dead and dry. As if the car hasn’t moved for a while, denying the grass any sun to live. It makes you feel nauseous, feet like anvils as you take your first step up the stairs.
The creak of the wood makes you flinch.
“Hanna?” You call, voice shakier than you want it to be. “Hanna, it’s me! Don’t freak out!”
No one answers. Your stomach bubbles like acid, the slow drip of sweat down your neck making a chill rattle up your spine. You reach the door and swallow thickly, lifting your hands and knocking loudly.
“Hanna?”
Nothing but the sound of the locusts answers you.
Your palms feel sweaty as you knock again. This time, your voice cracks when you call, “Hanna? Please answer the door.”
Wind sweeps across the trees. One thing about the wind in a land of pines and hills is that it’s loud, making a whooshing sound as it’s picked up by the boughs of the trees, rattling and letting their needles shake to the floor.
It’s cool at your back and you feel your lip wobble when you lower your hand to the doorknob. When you twist, the door opens immediately, swinging of its own volition when you let go.
Inside the house is the kind of silence that terrifies you in horror movies. The air is heavy. Your ears ring, searching for any rasp of sound to tell you that your sister is home. Licking your lips, you step over the threshold, the wooden floor cracking beneath the weight of your feet.
To the immediate left of the door is an open kitchen. There are dishes on the dry rack and plants in the window, though they are wilted and dry. You chew your lip as you step further into the house, eyes sweeping around.
A blue, painted table stands in the middle of the kitchen. Piles of mail sit on top of it with a fake plant centerpiece and your sister's car keys.
Across from the kitchen is an open doorway with a stacked washer and dryer, and a folding table. It smells faintly of detergent, clothes folded in neat piles as if Hanna had just completed a laundry day.
Everything is silent in the living room. The couch looks cozy, with piles of blankets draped across it. There’s a faint smell of vanilla, though the wick on the candle doesn’t look like it’s been lit in a while. Dust collects on the TV stand and there are sandals by the door that leads to the back porch.
Chewing your lip, you gently press your fingers to the door of Hanna’s bedroom, holding your breath. The sudden fear that it’s going to swing open and you’ll find your sister dead in her bed nearly incapacitates you, making the room spin a little as the door fully swings open.
Nothing. No Hanna, no rotting smell of a dead body. Just an unmade bed in a room that smells vaguely of her cherry perfume, a bathroom with the door open, and a pile of clothes near the hamper.
The sight of the clothes on the floor and right next to the hamper slams you with a wave of nostalgia. You walk into the room and you unceremoniously plop yourself down on the edge of the bed. It sags underneath you but you don’t care, letting your face fall into your hands and letting a sob rip through you.
Hanna isn’t here. You knew she wouldn’t be, but the relief that you don’t find her dead is so poignant that you can barely breathe past the snot clotting your nose and the way your throat constricts as you let out the fear.
The sobs subside and you wipe your face, hands coming away sticky and wet. Through swollen eyes, you look around the room. With a wipe of your hands on your jeans, you get up and start looking around, pulling open drawers and looking for evidence of the last time that Hanna was in this home.
It’s slow going. You’re unfamiliar with the space and you don’t know what to look for. It doesn’t seem like she had packed anything, but then again, how would you know if she did?
There are signs that she hasn’t been in the house in weeks. Rotted food inside of the fridge, molded bread in the pantry.
Outside, weeds grow around the steps. A cricket pops from the railing to the grass where its green body vanishes. The yard isn’t much of a yard - it’s open to the trees and a kudzu field to the west.
Back inside, you grab Hanna’s keys and open her car. There is nothing inside that looks like she was trying to make a quick getaway. An extra pair of shoes shoved in the back, and an empty grocery bag she was using for trash - all normal things.
In the passenger seat, you strike gold.
Hanna’s journals and folders sit in the passenger seat, stacked in a leaning tower with pages sticking out from the edges of her books and slanted handwriting scrawled on the folder tabs. Gathering all of it, you head back inside and deposit the stack on the kitchen table before looking around the house again to see if there’s any sign of her.
Something in your gut tells you that Hanna hasn’t been in the home for at least a month, if not more.
Dread creeps into your stomach as you gather items and pack a bag. Your intention is to keep it on you at all times in the event that you find her cold and alone somewhere. The thought of needing it leaves a sour tang on your tongue, but you pack it nevertheless.
Bag over your shoulder and stack of Hanna’s investigative work in hand, you head off to your room at the motel. The afternoon sun still burns hot over your head, but you have no intention of sitting in the empty house that carries the scent of your sister’s absence.
-
… While most historical accounts and official state documents indicate that Kill Devil was founded in 1730, journals buried deep in the city’s crumbling library have written records of townsfolk living in this settled town long before it was declared an official town. The journals reference the town as Covenstead and are filled with generations of the same family names.
Booth.
Park.
Warren.
Kim.
Jung.
Jeon.
Min.
Generations of these families settled in Covenstead and built what is now Kill Devil. From the description of the town in the collection of journals, it appears that the general layout of the town is similar to Kill Devil’s current city map.
Throughout the journals, there is a reference to the Wood. It seems to be a place mentioned in reverence, and there are allusions to celebrations in the Wood with entries dated in alignment with sabbats on the Wheel of the Year.
Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe seeing him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter.
Your finger traces over your sister’s writing. She still writes in her cramped, crooked way, with the sabbats of pagan holidays crammed in the margins. You smile, biting your bottom lip again as you go through the written notes of her study. It is dizzying and you’re unsure what exactly you’re looking at, but something tickles the back of your mind as you reread the entry she copied from the long-dead Yoongi Min. There’s something you're missing.
This time, your eyes snag on a word.
“The Covenstead,” you murmur, reading it over again. “Why would he call it the Covenstead? Is that just an older way of speaking?”
A tingle pricks your neck as you stare at the entry. You can’t understand what made your sister think this entry was odd besides the old-fashioned writing and reference to Mabon, because she writes nothing more on her analysis, and none of the journals she had been studying were anywhere you could find.
Sighing, you push away her notebook and pull out a collection of folders and papers that she had on the town. It’s mostly renderings of the town in its heyday with maps and newspaper articles. There seems to be no correlation between her clippings of new business openings and random town news.
Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building
Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies
The Grove Neighborhood Building Plans Accepted by Mayor
Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident
Something catches your eye in the article about the mayor’s son who fell into a well and died at the bottom. You reach for your sister's notebook and flip to read the small dates shoved into the margins.
Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident
June 19, 1781
Litha: Summer Solstice
June 19-23
Grabbing the other newspaper clippings, you climb off of the bed and lay them flat against the sheets, each crinkling under the excited press of your fingers as your brain whirs. It’s a puzzle your sister seems to have figured out already, and one you don’t expect to understand.
But you do.
Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building
February 14, 1899
Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies
March 19, 1899
Ostara: Spring Equinox
March 19-22
You suck in a breath as you look at the next clipping, using your pointer finger to keep your place on the sabbats calendar your sister has written down to see that the article for the new neighborhood The Grove is dated only a month before the mayor's son fell tragically in the well.
“Holy shit, Hanna,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your mouth and staring with burning eyes at the dates. “They match with pagan rituals? Something good, followed by something bad… like revenge? Punishment? Payment?”
The question bothers you. A flutter in your gut tells you that you’re asking the right questions as you stare at the pages, unseeing and trying to understand what your sister is getting at. She didn’t write down her thoughts explicitly - in case anyone stole her work, she’d said - and now you’re wishing she weren’t so paranoid. Or that she at least used a computer.
It isn’t an easy answer to puzzle out. An ache has settled deep in your temples and your half-eaten dinner has long gone cold. You decide you’ve earned a shower, though you don’t go into the bathroom without the bug spray armed and ready.
Briefly, you think about Hoseok. Such an oddity to the town. You can’t help but think about the way he changes from light to dark so quickly, face becoming shadowed and eyes masked, expression there and gone so quickly that you’re unsure if you saw it at all.
Strange. It’s all very strange.
-
There is a shadow in the parking lot again. This time, it’s closer. The bulb burning above the lot flickers, but stays on. The shadow stands just beyond the silver halo of light it distributes.
No moon hangs in the sky. It is dark dark dark - impossibly dark. You stare through a crack in your curtains, watching the shadow as it watches you. Dread weighs down the pit of your stomach and you feel a fresh wave of terror-laced nausea sweep through you.
You slide a foot backward gently, preparing to step away from the window. The shadow twitches and cocks its head to the side, not unlike a dog curious about something it’s heard. You suck in a sharp breath and hold it in, air screaming in your lungs, heart racing a frantic staccato.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck it seems to say, beating until it’s all you can hear and feel, pumping your system so full of adrenaline that you feel light-headed.
Your heart turns into a drum, frantic. It beats louder and louder and you feel rooted to your spot on the carpet, the soles of your feet surgical-stitched to the ugly shag carpet. You stare and stare and stare at the shadow and your heart is hammering so loud boom boom BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM-
Sweat-drenched and gasping for air, you sit up. Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it under the palm you have pressed against your chest. But the banging is coming from the hotel door, a steady stream of closed-fist hammering and Hoseok’s voice calling your name.
Peeling the covers back from your damp skin, you stumble to the door, nightmare-drunk and disoriented. You forget to remove the chain from the door, yanking it open and immediately slamming it to a stop as the chain pulls, refusing to let the door open.
Hoseok is on the other side, hair slightly disheveled, brows pulled together. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, a casual look by anyone’s standards but still effortlessly put together.
“Shit, hold on,” you slur, tongue heavy in your mouth with sleep. Closing the door, you slide the chain out, then reopen it successfully. “Sorry, is everything-”
“What’s going on?”
“What?”
His gaze is thunderous as he looks past you into your room. “You were screaming at the top of your lungs.”
Heat flushes your neck and face. “I-I’m sorry. I was having a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m not mad. What’s going on?”
In the shadow of the night, he looks dangerous, made up of edges and eyes narrowed. “Can I come in?”
You open the door and move out of his way. “Sure.”
“Thanks.”
Out of habit, you latch the door when you shut it.
Hoseok is a little out of place in your room. Even when dressed down, he looks like he belongs on a private jet, lounging among soft, polished leather and sipping exotic coffee. Not in a rundown motel room with peeling wallpaper and smoke-stained ceilings.
“What’s all this?” Your stomach plummets when he sees the journals and papers on your bed. you rush to shove it all under the blanket but Hoseok is fast, plucking a sheet of paper and looking over it, face pinched. “Is this what you meant by your sister studies the occult?”
“Yeah, sorry, I was just um- looking over her work.”
“You know about the occult?”
“Not at all.”
He glances at you, razor-sharp. “Then why would you be looking it over for her?”
The atmosphere shifts. It occurs to you that he doesn’t know your sister is missing. Has no idea that you’re desperately trying to put together pieces of a broken puzzle, without any clue on where to find the remaining parts to view the entire picture.
You weigh the options of lying, losing precious time as the silence hangs heavy and awkward between the two of you. He watches, brows raised and expectant, fingers gripping the paper.
“My sister is missing.” It feels weird to say it. Your tongue feels heavy and as you stare over his shoulder at a fixed spot on the wall, it feels like someone else enters your body to tell him, “I came here because no one would help me find her. She was here studying the town's occult myths for work and vanished. I had this… horrible feeling when she stopped calling and answering.”
“Have you contacted the authorities?”
You scoff and throw a glare at him. “Of course I have. It’s useless and frustrating. No one seems to give a shit that there is a missing person, and every lawyer, law officer and city official I talk to don’t fucking care. It’s like they’re all programmed to give me the same answer. They keep telling me that they’ve seen her around or that she’s probably ignoring me on purpose. They make me seem crazy.”
You expect him to tell you to leave it to the authorities. That’s what Hanna’s boss had told you to do. No one seems to be alarmed, no one cares. But you do. Desperately. And you cannot wrap your head around them looking the other way.
You’re preparing for the same reaction when Hoseok surprises you by saying, “You’re not crazy.”
“I’m not?”
He quirks a brow and his rosebud lips twitch in a smirk. “Well, you probably are. But not for this. Have you asked around town about her?”
You shake your head. “I only went to the house that she was staying at. I wanted to see if maybe she really was ignoring me or maybe just… I don’t know. In the zone for work. She wasn’t there and it doesn’t look like there was any sign of distress.”
“Take me there.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.” He tosses the papers onto the pile on your bed. “We’ll be safe.”
“First of all,” you hedge. “How do I know that? I barely know you. Second of all, what is going there in the middle of the night going to help?”
“I’m good at investigating. Maybe I’ll see something that you don’t.”
“Sorry, are you a cop now?”
“No, it’s hard to explain but I promise I’m trying to help you.” When you don’t move, Hoseok grimaces. “Look,” he explains evenly. “I really am trying to help you. I haven’t been entirely honest about why I’m here in this town. I came because I was also interested in some things happening here. Now I’m worried your sister is involved.”
Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. “Involved how?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping it’s a coincidence. Believe it or not, those do happen. But I’d like to visit her house to see if there’s anything at all that sticks out to me.” You hesitate, chewing on your lip. You don’t really know him, and now you trust him even less with his reasoning. “Please,” he adds.
You relent. “Fine.” Hanna is your main goal. You don’t trust Hoseok, but you wonder if he really can help you when no one else has. “Let’s go.”
Damp air rushes through the open windows of your car. You lowered them as you got in for a quick escape if Hoseok attacks you while you drive. He says nothing in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the pine trees rushing behind you.
Outside, the world is painted night-blue from the moon. There’s a weird hue to everything, making it feel as though you’re wading with heavy limbs through a dream. It’s no better when you arrive at the dark house.
It looks terrifying at night. There’s no street light to guide you, only that of the silver moon and the bright halogen lights of your car. You turn off your vehicle but switch the headlights on, turning on the high beams to shine on the house.
On the edges of where the light fades to shadow, your fear lies. The trees look taller than in the daylight, their branches like craggy limbs and reaching fingers. Anxiety bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach.
Each crunch of the grass beneath your feet falls too loud against the heavy silence. Here, you notice that the crickets are no longer singing. It’s just the hush of the wind gusting through the canyons and the far-away swell as it blows up the hills.
Though it’s not cool outside, there’s a chill on your skin. Hoseok walks up to the house, the beams of the car’s headlights throwing his shadow across it in jarring, monstrous shapes. You keep your eyes focused on him and your keys tucked in your hand, ready to use them as a weapon if needed.
Hoseok doesn’t seem concerned about your anxiety or the silence thrumming around the home. He walks up the steps and opens the door, vanishing into the dark mouth of the threshold. For a moment, you stand in the front yard, getting tunnel vision as you stare at the darkness in the doorway.
You imagine stepping over the threshold into that cool dark, letting it suck you in. You imagine that as soon as your shoes hit the creaking floor, Hoseok will snatch you by the waist and pull you into the belly of the beast. Once in his clutches, he’ll throw you to the ground and the last thing you’ll remember is-
Hoseok reappears in the doorway. You blink and the waking nightmare melts away, so vivid that you’re shaking where you’re standing, looking at him in confusion. He hops down the stairs, scowling as he crosses the front lawn in a few long strides.
He pauses when he sees your face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”
“I…” you shake your head, trying to dispel the weird vision you had a moment ago. “Nothing. I just don’t like the dark very much.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you find anything?”
His lip twitches. It’s almost impossible to detect, but you’re so focused on his face and trying not to picture him as the man in the terrifying thought you had moments ago, that you see it. “No.”
Lying. He’s lying. You clutch your keys and your breath quickens. He moves to round the side of the car and take the passenger seat, but you step in front of him. He pulls up short, eyes narrowing as you stand between him and the vehicle, blood pumping.
“I think you’re lying.”
“About what?”
“A lot of things.”
“What gives you that impression?”
“My instinct.”
He hums. “Instinct isn’t always a good thing.” He looks you up and down. “I didn’t find anything,” he says again. “I just got a really weird feeling inside of the house.”
“And?”
“And it’s the same weird feeling I’ve gotten in other places where people visiting went missing. Including the motel we’re staying at.” That makes you recoil. You feel the blood drain from your face, making you a little dizzy. You don’t know what’s going on, don’t understand what he’s getting at. “Your sister’s notes were about the covenstead here.”
That word again. The covenstead and not Covenstead, like a town name. “It was the town name before it was Kill Devil.”
“No,” he corrects. “It was a landmark. A covenstead, for people who lived here. A coven.”
“A coven.” He nods. “Like vampires and witches?”
Hanna’s notes had included all of those pagan holidays crammed in the margins of her work. Marking dates of occurrences that coincided with sabbat holidays. “Hoseok,” you say slowly. “Are you telling me that a bunch of witches live here and have kidnapped my sister?”
He regards you for a moment, eyes flickering up and down. His face is unreadable and dark in the night air, eyes shadowed and haunting. “That’s actually exactly what I’m saying.”
“Witches aren’t real.”
He frowns. “I can prove that they are.”
“How?”
He gestures to the car. “Let’s go.”
-
When you were younger, your sister always believed in magic. You remember spending all of October huddled on the couch with crocheted blankets, watching Halloween movies with the blanket pulled warm over scabbed knees, with popcorn-greased fingers tucked under heated thighs. Hanna always picked the movies - Halloween was her time of the year and you were happy to indulge.
Hanna’s choices were always superb. Hocus Pocus received more airtime than anything else, replayed between Halloweentown one and two, Practical Magic, The Witches and The Addams Family among others. Every night of the month was crammed full of magic and spells and haunted houses, sweetened by candy corn and Butterfingers.
Those were the nights that you loved the most. There was no fighting, no whining and crying over Hanna stealing your hair clips or you breaking her hair dryer. It was just the two of you, pressed skin-to-skin and spelled by the scrolling movies.
It’s as close to magic as you’ve ever been. You don’t think you were ever closer to her than in those moments. Under the blankets and the dim candles your mother lit, you were one being, melded. You knew when she would gasp at every jump scare and whisper each one of her favorite lines.
Thinking back on it, you wonder if Hanna was onto something. She always insisted that parts of the movies had to be true. Stories are rooted in history, and though myth and legend changed with culture, colonization and the introduction of new religions, science and ideas, there was something about the concept of magic and spirit that felt real to her.
It was why she went to school and majored in journalism with minors in folklore and history. She had even started a master's program for occult studies and folklore, spending late nights studying between traveling across the country from haunt to haunt for her job.
Staring at her work on the bed of your hotel room as Hoseok adds some of his own notes and findings, you have never missed her more. There is a sudden ache inside of your chest, so strong that it takes your breath away. Your hand goes to the necklace at your neck, feeling flushed, heart pounding.
Hoseok is explaining how there used to be a coven of witches that lived in the Wood long before Kill Devil existed. The Wood, Hoseok explains, is like a living and breathing conduit of power. It was something that gave the coven power but also needed to be fed.
The Covenstead. You remember the journal entry that had called it the covenstead. A place where witches commune and live together as one functioning body of magic. That much power does things to a place, skews the way the world works a little bit. He gives examples of places all around the world with similar experiences: the Bermuda Triangle, Door To Hell, Reed Flute Cave. All places where an abundance of magic and energy warps the way life functions.
But the Wood was strange before the witches got here. Hoseok rolls out a map, fingers tracing the lines of the city. Clarity snaps like a rubberband stinging against skin as you stare at it, lips parted, inhaling sharply.
The city roads make a pentagram, and at the very center is the courthouse.
“This is on purpose,” Hoseok explains. “There are other places in the world where the way the city or town or village is built is like a pentagram. Usually, these are called portals. They’re different from faerie rings which have their own power and distortions. These portals are for practicing witches and those who know how to use them.”
“Portals for what?”
“Creatures of great power that exist in worlds that don’t belong to us. Part of what gives witches their ability to perform magic is their energy. They are attuned to the world around them in a way that humans are not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you understand the concept of third and fourth dimensions?”
“Third dimension is what we live in,” you answer mechanically, somewhat familiar with the idea. “If a fourth dimension existed, we wouldn’t know because it moves in a way that we are unable to perceive. The fourth dimension, in theory, is movement and sight we would never have.”
“Exactly. But witches are attuned to that. These pentagrams,” Hoseok murmurs, tapping the map. “Are made to connect to the fourth dimension. Pentagrams are not inherently evil or even paranormal, but similar to sacred geometry, they… radiate at a frequency that other dimensions do. Powerful symbols like this have existed since Mesopotamia.”
“I… how does this prove that magic is real?”
For a moment, you’re distracted by the way Hoseok’s artful fingers pluck your sister's notebook from the bed. He flips until you’re looking at her journal entries and the newspaper clippings with dates and headlines.
“Witchcraft is different in every culture and part of the world. These holidays have roots in Celtic and Welsh craft. It was brought over by the pilgrims when people fled England and traveled here. This is old - not as old as whatever lives in the Wood, but old enough that it’s powerful. These dates you’re looking at? They’re sacrifices to keep the Wood powerful.”
“How do you even know all of this?”
“I’ve studied it my entire life.”
“Why?”
“It’s just something that runs in my family. We’re very spiritual people.” Something about the way his voice wavers makes you look at him sharply. Hoseok isn’t looking at you, busying himself with sifting through papers. There’s a pinch in your gut that makes you think he’s lying, but you’re afraid to push the matter.
“Get some rest,” he says, breaking your exhausted train of thought. “We can talk more in the morning when you’re not exhausted.”
“Yeah.” You rub your weary eyes. “Yeah, okay.”
With Hoseok gone, you crawl into the bed, leaving the light on, staring off into the distance as your hand clutches your necklace. Your lip trembles and your throat constricts painfully. When you close your eyes, you feel tears slide down your face.
Tucking your face into the pillow to hide your tears, you let out a small, aching sound. You just want to know where your sister is, and somehow you’ve landed in the middle of a hateful little town with strange little people and a strange little fantasy.
Crying is inevitable. But at least it puts you to sleep.
-
This time, you know you’re dreaming. You don’t know how you know, but you do. There’s a watery feeling to the hotel room when you open your eyes. As though you’re both there and you’re not.
You glance at the clock but the numbers are all wrong. You rub your eyes and look again, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t make sense of them.
You want to sit up. You move your arms - no, you try to move your arms. They don’t move, suddenly too heavy to slide under the covers of your blanket and peel it back. Panic sparks in you as you try to shift your legs, but though you can feel them, you can’t move them.
Terror as you’ve never known slides between your ribs, sharp and poignant. You can’t breathe and you know you’re dreaming and yet you can’t move. You close your eyes, brain repeating the same words over and over again: wake up wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP-
It doesn’t happen. You open your eyes and your room still has the dream-glazed light to it, and you still can’t move. Something shifts in your peripheral vision. Your heart seizes in your chest so sharply you think you’ll die.
You cannot turn your head to look at the shadow that moves just beyond your sight. Tears slip from your eyes, hot, wet and burning. You can’t wipe them. They blind you, turn your vision into an opaque, watery mess as something slides to the foot of your bed.
When you feel the mattress dip, you try to scream. The sound is locked in your throat, with so much force behind it that you wait for your vocal cords to explode. The fear is raw now, your eyes wild, tears leaking as you mentally thrash and thrash and thrash.
Weight shifts on either side of the bed and you have the sense that there is someone crawling on you but you can’t see beyond your crying, can’t hear beyond the pounding of your own heartbeat slamming in your ears, blocking out every other noise and-
Something invisible to you grips your throat. You still have the instinct to move, driving you to madness as your brain signals for your hands to fly to your assailant and yank and remove the hold on your neck.
It’s crushing. You gasp for air, no noise coming out as the grip tightens, and you know with certainty that this is it. Whatever dream this is will kill you, this time.
The realization that you’re going to die suddenly mutes the terror. It slides behind a glass door, beating its fists, but it's duller now. You have sharper clarity, and briefly you think of what Hoseok said about beings from the fourth dimension, and how the witches summon them through their craft here. To this place. Where you cannot perceive them.
You wonder if this happened to Hanna. You miss her, your sister, with big dreams and fast smiles and a head full of magic and wondering. This, you think, is how you go. And perhaps you’ll join her.
Thoughts blend together, sloshed wine in a glass. They’re warm and liquid and have no shape to them, no real purpose. It’s like you know you’re thinking, but you don’t know of what. Darkness pools at the edge of your vision. It feels cold and alone but you drift toward it, away from the pain.
And then you can breathe.
Air comes sweeping in, forcing its way into your mouth, into your lungs. Your lungs inflate so painfully that for a split second, you think they’re on fire. Oxygen burns its way through you and bursts of color explode on the canvas of your closed eyes - you don’t remember closing your eyes.
You roll over in bed, coughing, mouth wet with spit and phlegm as you try to gulp in as much air as you can.
High-pitched ringing whines in your ears, and there are muffled sounds on the other end of it. The motel room tilts back into vision, melting into place. You think that the room has reloaded into your world wrong - everything is crooked.
Then you realize you’re laying on your side, gagging and gasping for air. There is a hand against to your back, palm cold, fingertips freezing. The touch, you realize, feels full of energy, your spine tingling where it’s pressed against you.
Lurching away from the touch, you roll to the side of the bed, looking at the person whose hand had been pressed against you.
Hoseok’s tangled in the sheets, hair a mess, shirtless and in sweats. He’s panting, flushed, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his body. But it’s his eyes that stop you from scrambling away. They’re dark, burning like two pieces of coal as he looks at you, kneeling with his hands in his lap, palms facing the ceiling.
Hoseok says something. The ringing in your ears has just started to die down and you shake your head, unsure of what he means and not confident in your ability to speak.
“What?”
“Are you okay?”
You stare at him. “What the fuck just happened to me?”
“This is my fault, I’m so sorry.”
“What?”
He lifts his hands and you flinch. The look on his face is pure heartbreak, shrouded in golden light. “Please,” he murmurs. “Let me help you. I’m not going to hurt you.”
It’s quiet, save for the sound of the humming air conditioner.
Trust your gut, your sister had said.
So you do because he’s offered to help you thus far. You nod, giving him access to you. He sags in relief, shuffling forward tentatively as he takes your face in his hands. His palms are impossibly warm. Your eyes flutter shut at the touch, unable to look at him this close, this boy of light and something, as he cradles your face.
Warmth pools in your face, saturating down to your neck and chest. The ache in your lungs eases, and the lump in your throat continues to recede. You don’t want to ask what he’s doing. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel the terror of moments ago ever again, and with the way Hoseok is touching you, so close that his breath fans your brow, and you can smell him like rain and lavender, you want to embrace it.
There’s no thought process to the way you lean up into him. Your eyes are closed, your breath shaking as you seek him. Hoseok makes a surprised noise, but it vanishes as you press your lips against his.
Relief sweeps through you. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before, every drop of terror fading away, momentarily forgotten. Every ache vanishes. It’s just Hoseok and the way he burns brighter than the sun, and the way it doesn’t hurt anymore.
After a brief moment of hesitation, he kisses you back. It’s sweet and soft-lipped, his fingers pressing into the side of your face gently as he pulls you to him. You follow his pull, both physically and something like a tether, getting up on your knees to get closer.
Hoseok breaks the kiss, nose brushing yours. You open your eyes, half-lidded and feeling dizzy from just the gentle press of lips. His eyes are dark, but you see the light flecks of brown in them, like an entire world of sun and stars exist in their depths.
“Make it go away,” you whisper.
You don’t specify. The pain, the nightmares, the fear, the weird town, the worry about your sister. You want it all to stop and this person you barely know - you feel as though he can take it away. Or mute it.
He nods, eyes closing as he kisses you properly. You forget what you were worried about, and it’s all you can do not to fall headfirst into Hoseok. His mouth is warm and wet, tongue soft but greedy as he pries your mouth open, drinking you in.
Hoseok’s lips tingle against yours, sending a shiver skating down your spine. You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers tangling in the silky strands there. He hums appreciatively when your nails slow-scratch at the base of his scalp.
Carefully, Hoseok shuffles you into his lap. Your knees dip on the mattress on either side of his hips, straddling his waist. His hands find the hem of your sleep shirt and pull upward. You break the kiss, a string of spit connecting your flushed mouths before the garment breaks it.
The room is cold, air hitting your bare chest and hardening your nipples immediately. You whine but Hoseok is fast, pressing your chest to his as he attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking at the tender flesh sharply.
“Fuck,” you whisper, letting your head drop backward heavily. Your eyes are shut and the world feels like it’s spinning. He has one hand on your hip, the other on the small of your back, pressing you to him to keep you warm and to rock your hips gently into his. “Feels good.”
He hums in response, sucking wet stains onto your flesh as he moves toward your chest. You push your tits out to meet his searching mouth, gasping lightly when the rough drag of his tongue swipes across your nipple.
The sensation is overwhelming. Your fingers dig into the back of his neck as Hoseok sucks your peak greedily. You’re grinding into his lap on your own now, panties clinging to your hot, sticky folds as you seek friction. He’s hard beneath you and you want to feel him.
Letting you rut in his lap, Hoseok drags delicate fingers over the curve of your ass and thigh, and his nails leave goosebumps in their wake. The feeling between your legs and at the base of your spine is heady as he lets go of one nipple with a sharp pop, tongue tracing a sloppy line to the other.
Hoseok’s teeth tease the tight bud and you whine. “Oh?” he asks, voice rough and low. “Gonna be a baby about it?”
You shake your head, but your lip juts out as you look at him, dazed. “Want more.”
“Tell me.”
Dropping one hand from his neck, you take the hand resting on your thigh, guiding it between your legs. Hoseok presses the pads of his fingers to your underwear and you let out a keen. It’s not nearly enough, but the pressure sends another wave of arousal flooding through you.
“Hmm,” he hums, dragging his fingers back and forth over the damp cloth. “Soaked from just that, huh?” You nod and he bites your collarbone. Fuck, he’s going to kill you, sending another tremble down your frame. He hooks a finger in your underwear, sliding against your glossy folds experimentally and he curses, “Fuck. Pussy is already messy and I’ve barely touched you.”
“Please.”
“What do you want? I already asked.”
“More.” Hoseok presses your clit, letting you drip onto his fingers, but he doesn’t move them. You grit your teeth. “Want your fingers,” you ask through clenched teeth. “Fuck me with them, anything. Please.”
He grins, face wicked before he kisses your nose. “See, you just had to tell me.”
You’re tense as he pulls your underwear to the side, shoving the fabric against your thigh. Cool air hits your cunt. You can’t recall ever wanting someone like this, vibrating uncontrollably as he traces your slit with his fingers, lazily circling your clit.
A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you drop your forehead on Hoseok’s shoulder. He lets you sag against him as he plays with your pussy, fingers barely dipping to tease your hole and gather juices before coming back to trace your clit, applying delicious pressure.
It feels so good. It’s mind-numbing, letting him do what he wants. Hoseok pants in your ear, breathing stilted between chaste kisses against the side of your head.
Painfully slow, Hoseok inserts a single finger into your wet heat. The sound you let out is high-pitched and loud. It’s not nearly enough, but you lose all sense of asking for more as his finger slides in deep, pressing against your front wall to massage that delicate spot inside of you.
“Oh shit,” you stutter, unable to help it.
He laughs, voice deep when he asks, “Yeah? That the spot?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He slow-drags his finger in and out of your pussy, fucking you slowly. He curses, teasing you only for a moment before he gifts you another. The stretch is so much better, and you melt. He thrusts leisurely, not hard and fast but deep. Your walls swallow his fingers, gripping them and begging him not to stop as a tight coil winds in your stomach as he presses hard against your g-spot.
It’s messy, the wet drag of his fingers in your cunt. You feel the slow drip of arousal every time he pulls back, soaking his hand. It drops down your thighs as he picks up the pace. You lift your hips a little, adding a bounce to his motions.
“Oh? You wanna do it?” He stops moving his hand and you let out a desperate sound. He laughs. “No, go ahead. If you’re so eager, do it yourself. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”
Seeking balance by holding his shoulders, you grip him tight, face tucked in his neck as you maneuver yourself, using your knees to lightly fuck yourself on his fingers. It feels so good, and you adjust the angle until you feel him hit that spot again, making you see stars.
It’s electric, this feeling rippling in your bloodstream. It feels different with Hoseok and you can’t place why, but your orgasm is building so sharply in your stomach that you nearly stop thrusting, overwhelmed by the sensation.
The pressure in your stomach winds and winds and winds until it snaps, every muscle in your thighs and ass squeezing tight, your hands turning to an iron grip, breath stuck in your lungs as you let out a strangled sound, squeezing Hoseok’s fingers as you come.
Hoseok is whispering something in your ear, but you can’t hear him over the thundering heartbeat of your pulse, shaking as you come down from your high. When you do, you’re vaguely aware that he’s pulled his fingers out, but he’s massaging the tight ring of muscles, making you shiver.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Wanna see you stretch yourself on my cock like that.”
“Wanna,” you mumbled.
Your limbs are heavy and lazy as you shuffle, uncoordinated. Hoseok laughs, finding you endearing as you scowl and shift off his lap. His touch is featherlight as he pulls your panties off. You need him, completely naked and shivering as your eyes drop from the smooth, carved planes of his chest and abs to the heavy imprint of his cock in his sweats.
And the wet stain mess you’ve made.
Flushed, you watch as he looks up at you, smirking. “Go on.”
Scooting toward him with eager hands, you rest with your feet tucked under you. Dipping your touch below his waistband, you grasp him firmly, cock heavy in your hand. He sighs, head tilting back a little while you slide your grip along his shaft.
Brushing your thumb over his tip to collect hot, sticky precum, you spread it, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you stroke him gently, testing the waters. His hips twitch and his mouth parts, gold light of the lamp turning him into Giovanni’s Apollo. He is ethereal, a burning sun and you suddenly understand why Icarus flew to his demise.
Maybe you will too.
With your other hand, you push Hoseok’s sweats down. Though you could feel the size and swollen weight of him in your hand, it’s still a marvel when you see his thick length, dark tip oozing precum.
A hiss escapes his teeth when you give him a firm squeeze. He lets you pump him lazily, and your mouth catches the underside of his jaw, teething and sucking sharp marks into his skin. He tastes like something electric and a little bit of sweat, your tongue buzzing.
“Hmm,” he hums, fingers gripping the back of your neck to pull your mouth back up to his. It’s more spit and him gasping into your mouth more than anything. “You know how stunning you are?”
You feel heat creep up in your cheeks. Hoseok shuffles away from you and you let go of your grip on him, watching his dick slap against his stomach, smearing precum. He sits near the headboard, leaning against the wallpaper and staring at you with hungry eyes.
“You’re going to make me shy,” you say softly, though you still crawl toward him. You can feel the slick slide of your inner thighs. He pumps his cock lazily, giving you a look that says he doesn’t believe you. “You’re pretty.”
“Think so?”
You nod, a little light-headed and uneven. You tilt toward the side and he catches you, hands sticky from your mixed arousal. Bending down, you capture his lips. Hoseok runs the crown of his cock through your folds and you moan, lips parting. He drinks in your sounds, licking them from the roof of your mouth.
For a moment, it’s just the teasing and sloppy kissing, pausing to pant into each other's mouths, slick from sweat. He presses the blunt head of his dick into your hole, dipping only a little before retreating and sliding back up to tease your clit.
“Hoseok,” you growl, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the iron tang blooming in your mouth. He hisses out a laugh and does it again. This time, you lower your pussy, trying to catch him on an angle to sink down on him. “Stoooop.”
“Whiny baby,” he teases again. “Cock-hungry, huh?”
“Wanna be full.”
“Mmm.”
Hoseok repeats the motion, but this time lets you sink slowly on the length of him. The stretch stings, hurt-laced pleasure as you suck in a sharp breath and hold it. It feels like your lungs might burst, shaking as you slide down until your ass rests on his damp thighs and you feel the tip of his cock deep in your gut.
“Fuck,” you gasp, leaning forward, palms pressed to his shoulders. They slide a little, his skin warm and sweaty. You dig your nails in for purchase and he sucks in a sharp breath, but lets you claw your way back to sanity from the feeling. “Deep.”
His hands find purchase on your ass, digging in and massaging. “Come on, then. You were so eager for my fingers.”
You lift your hips a little, the slide delicious against your warm walls, and drop down with a wet smack. You both moan at that and you grin, putting the weight into Hoseok’s shoulders as you lift your hips again, hypnotized by the wet schlick of your cunt sliding on his length.
Everything fades away again. Your thighs burn as you increase your movements, chasing the buzz that has settled deep in your stomach. Hoseok lets you use him, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt drips into his lap.
His nails bite into the meat of your ass and you feel dragged under by the pleasure, the sting of his grip and the pressure of his cock hitting your g-spot sending you further and further.
Your legs grow a little tired, movements sloppy. Hoseok doesn’t mind, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting upward to meet you, hands supporting your weight under your ass. He helps lift you, pulling you up and down until you’re mumbling incoherently.
It feels mind-numbingly good, and the tension in your stomach grows taught and tight, your second orgasm oncoming.
“Come on,” Hoseok demands between clenched teeth. “Give it to me.”
You nod, sliding a hand between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure and speed to get you shaking again. White spots appear in your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut, letting him take over and fuck up into you, cunt gushing as you come hard enough around him that you fall forward.
Hoseok lets you lay on his chest, dead weight as he claws at your ass and thighs, rutting up into you. You’re dimly aware of the soaked mess of your smacking bodies, but your ears are ringing and you feel lighter than you’ve ever felt before.
You begin to whine in oversensitivity just as Hoseok slams into you as deep as he can, cock twitching and filling you up. You shiver as he grunts, hips bucking with a wet squelch as he gently fucks you through his orgasm.
Both of you lay there in a messy pile as his cock softens inside of you. Cum pools between your pressed bodies, but you don’t care. The room is humid, the light dim with the haze of how far gone you feel. Hoseok traces soft circles on your hips with his fingers. Your mouth is pressed against his jaw, breath kissing his skin.
You could fall asleep here, you think. It’s nice to forget for a while, to let your body feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, the shaking of his thighs against yours, the ache in your muscles.
Heaviness tugs at you, so close to pulling you under, but Hoseok stirs. You feel drunk, letting him peel the two of you apart until you’re stumbling to the shower. The air makes your tacky, cum-covered skin cold.
It’s hard to fit both of you in the shower, but you manage it, rotating under the rough spray of the hot water, hands exploring and kneading sore muscles. Your lips are abused and feel bruised, but it doesn’t stop you from seeking the comfort of his mouth, the world turning to static every time you kiss him.
The motel room smells like sex and sweat when you return to peel clothes back on. Wordlessly, Hoseok takes your hand and leads you to his room on the other side of the wall. It has the same faded wallpaper, the same dusty and stained lampshades, but it looks more lived in.
There are added pieces in the room. A dehumidifier hums in the corner, and there is a hamper full of clothes. Hoseok has added plants near the window, plasticky leaves vibrant green and shiny. Burnt-out incense sits on the plastic folding table he’s erected, books and papers splayed out over its surface. There’s a collection of crystals you can’t identify.
An inviting bed beckons you. You both fall into it, heavy-limbed and sighing. It smells like Hoseok, a mix of rain and lavender. There’s a sense of trepidation as you roll over on the mattress.
Carefully, Hoseok pulls you to him. He presses your back to his chest, one arm going under his head as he yawns and smacks his lips lightly, the other looping over your waist.
“No one is going to bother you,” he sleep-slurs. “I got rid of them. And they won’t go against me.”
You hum, sleep crawling up and stealing your thoughts. You wonder how he got rid of them and why they’re afraid of him.
It isn’t until he mumbles a response that you realize you’ve spoken your question out loud. “Because,” he sighs, words slow and soft, as he drifts off to sleep. “I told them you’re mine.”
Hoseok’s words are lost on you because you’re long asleep.
-
No dreams disturb you. When you wake up, you feel the weight of the night before on you. It’s cool and empty behind you as you startle, realizing you’d fallen asleep with Hoseok there. You look over your shoulder, blinking away sleep, and see that it’s just you in the dark room.
From the bathroom, you can hear the shower. You relax a little, groaning as you roll to your back and stare up at the popcorn-textured ceiling. Your thighs still burn with the soreness from the night before and you bite your bottom lip, trying to conceal your grin.
Gently, you bring your hand to prod at your neck where it had hurt so much last night. You remember the lock-limb nightmare, the feeling of needing to scream. The thought that you were dying.
Hoseok had saved you, but it begged the question of how. You remember asking him last night, but you cannot remember what he answered. You’re also surprised to find that you’re not in any pain from whoever or whatever had attacked you.
Unease turns your stomach but you decide to crawl out of his bed, wandering around his room. A salt lamp casts an orange glow on his makeshift desk. You’re drawn to the mess on top of it, looking at the stacks of books and frowning. They’re not in English - or any language that you know, embossed symbols and shapes on the covers and cracked spines.
Lifting a heavy, green canvas book, you flip it over in your hands. The edges of the paper are yellow and oxidized with time and there is a gold symbol pressed on the front. Your fingers trace the groove, remembering what Hoseok said the day before about sacred geometry.
Putting it down, you select another book. It has a pentagram on it. When you flip the book open, the pages are filled with slanted writing, diagrams, and shapes. You recognize sabbat dates and stop when you get to a picture of interlocking shapes. You trace the symbol absently, wondering what it means.
Why does he have books like this?
A current of electricity slides up the finger that’s tracing the symbol. You squeak in surprise and drop it, cringing at the loud clatter that it makes against the table. The shower flips off and you look at the shut door. Hoseok moves around before opening the door, sticking his head out. He’s dripping in water, hair slicked back, golden skin glistening.
Despite the night before, you avert your eyes, shy. He doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything, instead asking. “You okay?” He glances down at the books. “Good luck reading those.”
“Yeah,” you answer absently.
He grins. “Be out in a second.”
When Hoseok shuts the door, you feel unsettled. Rubbing your arms to fend off a sudden chill, you continue looking through the things on his table. There’s a small glass case with the exoskeleton of a frog. You cringe, thinking about Hoseok’s pet frog awaiting death in his pitcher plants.
Hoseok’s phone starts vibrating on the desk, making you gasp. Your hand goes to your chest, feeling the way your heart pounds violently against your rib cage. Looking at the screen, you see that someone named Yoongi is calling him.
You hesitate, cocking your head. The name rings familiar, and you watch as the call goes to voicemail. The screen fades to black but you keep staring at it. Not for the first time on your trip, you get the sense that you’re missing something, that there is something right there.
A text from Yoongi comes in, lighting up the screen.
Jung, you better not be fucking around with your prey again. We need to prepare.
It doesn’t sit well with you. When the screen goes dark, you tap it, bringing up the preview. What the hell does Yoongi mean fucking around with your prey? And what are they preparing for? You swear you remember the name Yoongi, retracing your thoughts.
You feel the blood drain from your face. You do know that name.
“Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”
“What?” you had asked him. “Your cat talks?”
“Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”
Slowly, you stiffen, remembering Hoseok’s words after breakfast. It had seemed silly then, that Hoseok was talking about a cat. But it’s not the only place you’ve seen Yoongi’s name.
Trust your gut, your sister always said.
You look at the bathroom door once before turning on your heel and creep from the room. You pull the front door open slowly, wincing and holding your breath as the outside world makes noise. Slipping through, you’re careful not to let the door click loudly before running to your room.
With the same care, you shut your door, flipping the bolt lock and sliding the chain in the door. The room feels like it’s spinning, your tunnel vision making you dizzy as you sweep your gaze back and forth, looking for the piles of your sister's research. It’s sitting on the floor, shoved off the bed where you let him fuck you last night.
The urge to vomit flips your stomach as you dive for the papers, riffling through them and scanning, feverish and sweaty. You find the entry you want, finger pressing to the page as you read it multiple times, fear making the words tangle.
Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe to see him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter.
Yoongi.
A sick feeling coils in your stomach as your hands tremble, eyes scanning the list of names your sister scribbled out as old families in Kill Devil. There’s another one you remember, the one that Yoongi used in his text to Hoseok.
Booth.
Park.
Warren.
Kim.
Jung.
Jeon.
Min.
A shaking hand presses to your mouth. Jung. “Fuck,” you squeak, looking at the wall separating you from Hoseok’s room.
It occurs to you that all this time, you thought the citizens were looking at Hoseok with contempt. How easily hatred can be confused for fear. Hoseok, who had shown up every time you were having a night terror. Who seemingly knew all the right things to do to ease you.
Hoseok, who had flashes of darkness that terrified you. Whose expression could go blank as he thought about something, but flip on a dime to a bright, sunny boy. Hoseok, whose presence always gave you a weird tingle, triggering some sort of instinct you couldn’t place.
Something happens then. With absolute certainty and a razor-sharp resolve that you’ve never experienced, you know your sister is dead. Perhaps you’ve always known. The sudden burning of your locket that night two months ago, the way that it looks like she ceased to exist. The eerie feeling dogging you, nipping at your heels.
Hanna is dead. The pain is only sharp for a second, a slice of agony as you bend over, arms wrapped around your stomach as you let out a silent scream. The grief is powerful but abrupt as you hear Hoseok call your name on the other side of the wall.
You stand. Because now you can’t mourn. Now, you must leave as quickly as possible. Because you hadn’t been trusting your gut, ignoring that weird little sense of something wrong.
Now isn’t the time to scream over what you know. Now you must get away from-
“Was it the books or the phone call?”
You whirl around. Hoseok is leaning against the wall by the door. The bolt is still flipped and the chain is still in place. You’re frozen to the spot, staring at him. He looks at the papers on the floor and back to you, smirk razor-sharp. Of course, he could get into the room without opening the lock.
All of the features you thought were beautiful are suddenly terrifying. “It took you way too long to puzzle it together, but I guess you’re not nearly as smart as Hanna.” You open your mouth but nothing comes out, throat constricted. “You were so easy to convince though, so I guess that’s something.”
“I don’t…” your voice is raspy, shaking.
“When you kept calling the city officials, I knew it was only time before you showed up here. I’ve been living in this fucking shit hole waiting.” He tsks and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you forever.”
“The citizens?”
“Stay out of my way and stay out of the Wood. They’re the frogs I let live, so long as I find other ones.”
“Why?” you ask, shaking your head. It’s the only question you can think of. It’s the only question that matters: whywhywhywhy. “Why help me?”
“Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey.”
It dawns on you that he had said as much at breakfast while he was tracing symbols on the table. He had been talking about his frogs, but he had been talking about you too. How many signs had you missed because he fucking smiled at you? Something dangerous lurking behind light flirting.
He points to himself. “Pitcher plant.” He points at you with a grin. “Frog. Ribbit.”
“Fuck you,” you snarl, fear replaced by a hatred that burns so hot the edges of your vision flash red. But it isn’t him you’re mad at. It’s you. For being so easily deceived. For being so casually influenced in a matter of days. “Fuck you, and your fucking town.”
“I did fuck you. You were special, though. I hope that makes you feel better. Didn’t fuck your sister. You’re cute, and I had time to spare.”
“All of this for what? To get off on the chase? The manipulation?”
He scoffs. “I already told you what this place is. It isn’t my fault you didn’t put it together. I almost hand-fed it to you. The Wood gives us power, and the Wood needs sacrifices.” Hoseok pushes himself off of the wall, his smile like the first light of the morning sun. “I’m taking you to the Wood.”
#hoseok smut#hobi smut#j hope smut#hoseok fanfic#j hope fanfic#bts fanfic#hobi fanfic#hoseok x reader#j hope x reader#minors dni#j hope x you#hobi x you#sailoryooons
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My two cents on the story some Nick fans hate Taylor:
From what I've seen around they are mainly people who have been following him since before rwrb and if you look carefully they are often huge purple heart fans (and have a slight obsession with the "relationship" between Nick and Sofia) therefore I think that this hatred for Taylor derives from 2 things:
1. They hate that so many people have gotten closer to him because of rwrb but they share the support and love with someone else. That's why they always have to specify that for them Taylor is unemployed (unlike Nick), Taylor is not a good actor (unlike Nick who is the best around for the next 100 years), Taylor is loved only for his hot body and we are all envious that Nick is mentioned around as an actor etc etc. It's impossible for them to accept that people can appreciate both and one must necessarily be better and more loved than the other and they are better fans because they have been following him since before rwrb and they don't want him to still be associated with this film because he will never be "the sole star" but has to share everything with Taylor.
2. Racism. From certain comments they make it is undeniable that this has great relevance in this situation and I don't even want to delve into it because it's not even crazy it's simply disgusting and this is definitely the worst part.
They hate rwrb (but praise Nick as Henry and think he's the only one who did well in the movie) and keep making up this bullshit about how Nick hates the project, hates the cast, his body language says he was uncomfortable on that set, this is the only cast he hasn't remained friends with, Taylor tries hard for have his attention to be relevant but Nick just proves they have no contact and they need it to be true because that's the only thing which they can cling to to hope he doesn't make the sequel. Oh, plus Nick is too busy to accept the sequel and it would be a downgrade for him to do the sequel given the career that awaits him, unlike Taylor who only has rwrb to work and be relevant (all read with my own eyes unfortunately)
In short, I don't know how they can think this is good for Nick and how they can think this is the type of support he deserves and would like. As another blog said, we can't stop them, there are moments they become more vocal and mean and the more we respond the meaner they become saying things like "you get angry because you know it's the truth"
They treat Taylor like a monster, like he's a really bad person, they've done bad things towards him like doxxing and spreading false information about him to convince everyone what an evil person he is.
They say he uses Nick, before Nick's response when he signed the book they said Taylor bullied him with those drawings on his face all because they have this unhealthy relationship with an actor and they think they have some right over his life.
You've explained their (ridiculous) mentality really well, and frankly, it drives me insane that there are people in the world who think they understand one person's career/relationship/life when he doesn't know them
On the note of purple hearts, I didn't watch the movie and I don't plan to, but when I just got into the RWRB fandom and started learning about Nick and Taylor, and I kinda saw some comments from us, that's kind of... something like Purple hearts fans are mad at RWRB because of... opposing political beliefs?
Oh, also agree on the racism thing. Fuck racism man.
My one hope is this bullshit doesn't affect Taylor and Nick. I have faith in their relationship not to turn sour or blame each other because 1, it's not each other's fault 2, they're grown ass adults who understand how this industry, parasocial relationships and fan culture work, but if any of these shitty comments reaches either one of them it must hurt, and arguably hurts Nick more than Taylor, because these people are hurting your friend in your name. That's fucked up.
Again I think the best thing we can do is ignore them, block them and remember that we hold the actual truth: Nick loves RWRB, and Taylor, and Henry. And he and Taylor, on both sides, plus Matthew and a couple editorial writers, stated and showed that they are genuine friends with genuine chemistry.
#rwrb#red white and royal blue#rwrb movie#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#henry hanover stuart fox#firstprince#taylor zakhar perez#nicholas galitzine#rwrb thoughts#anon ask#answered#this happened to my other otp from woh and jesus christ I hate this mess
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January 2024 CPNs 🍭🍬🍪
starting off the year strong with some good old candies that puts a smile on our faces. i have to say that this month has some challenges because tho we have sweets, there were some outside voices that affected some of us in a negative way. being a bxg is a continuous learning process, and i hope all of us get stronger and learn that xz and wyb will always be the priority. we will respect them. we will be kind to them. and i guess that’s the good thing about monthly recaps like this, a reminder that bxgs live the good life! 🫶🏼
now let’s review this lovely month… ⬇️⬇️⬇️
• New year’s eve candy goodness
• Additional NYE clowning, one of the set props for WYB’s stage, is a clock. It’s not set as 10:05 in an obvious way, but if you turn it just right you will see the 10:05. Most likely a coincidence but who knows.
• ZZ & WYB featured in Elle Japan
• 1/2 yibo official weibo video post
• Probably a coincidence but in WYB’s interview he mentioned that one of his favorite Actors is Sean Penn. Understandable. However people are screaming cause “Sean” is also XZ’s first name. lol. Was this an additional point to like the actor? 😂
• 1/4: Yibo cat photo cpns
• XiaoWangZi = Little Prince
• 1/6/23, photos onset of ZZ’s new drama went on HS. to be expected, cause it’s in hengdian and anything related to ZZ’s project is bound to get some paparazzi interested. there was also some talk that the project might have shared it intentionally to stop the malicious rumors that the drama wasn’t actually filming. anyway, the CPN in all this is that a new CP was born 🥹🥹🥹🥹
baili is mostly paired with shiying — who is a favored person to be shipped with xieyun. so it seems like baili doesn’t have his one & only. so maybe zanghai can be that person. and both their stories include court politics so it’s perfect.
• The Boys & their late night city adventures
• ZZ & WYB + Mimi the Cat
• A new/old snippet from their thailand fanmeet rehearsal where they wanted to hear each other’s voice on their earphones
• WYB smiling cause he heard XZ’s sample/demo for the song tomorrow will be better during recording
• 1/11 zsww rumor : cutting their hair
• 1/12 same light and shadow in studio post caption & another wedding outfit
• THEM WITH A KID 🥹🥹🥹 it’s giving suo-er vibes!
• Weibo Night recap & candies
• yibo is seat #23 and then xzs posts their video at 00:23. what a coincidence 👀
• same brand heurueh bits
• In his SINA interview for Weibo night, he was asked who he prefers to go with during vacations and he answers friends. but before saying that he stuttered. you all know how we are with XZ and his stutter, meaning he is changing his answer or is a bit nervous cause the true answer is revealing. Tell us, who do you really wanna go on vacation with? 😏
• The boys being tourism ambassadors of their hometown which led to them being featured in a newspaper
• A fansite posted a series of photos showing how XZ signed the backdrop for Weibo Night. It clearly shows how he looks at WYB’s signature and the decides to sign right next to it. There are videos too that show this much better. I guess this one depends on people’s interpretation. I think those who are anti cpf will see this as a coincidence and say that XZ just signed randomly on the side cause the other spaces already look crowded. But then again, you can’t deny that he saw WYB’s signature. He knows what it looks like. They both spent so much time signing stuff together during CQL promotion so it’s safe to say that he recognized it. If they are sworn enemies like some people love to imply, why would he sign near WYB’s? This is pretty clear to me, it’s his way of being right next to WYB. 🫶🏼
Here is a closer one posted by someone who attended, you can see how close they are.
• an assistant in weibo night who took care of them both & who seems to be their friend
• matching lawsuits of anti fans
• both of them showing up at loreal annual meeting to give their messages
• our boys love to stay hydrated! 💦💦💦
• a video from SDC where the OP said WYB’s reaction was due to their wangxiao headbands. I know there are a lot of toxicity and fanwar that happened because of SDC fan support and there is some narrative from his so/os that WYB hates us. so/os are free to hate on us but i don’t think it’s ever right to project that onto WYB who is like the most accepting person. let the fan wars be between the fans, don’t bring WYB into it and claim stuff that will put him in a negative light.
• mystery tennis photo where people clown that he could be with xz. but i personally think he is just with some friends, but that doesn’t take away the possibility that he plays with xz 🎾
• GQ caption similarities and sexy backs - and i think the biggest takeaway from this whole GQ drama is that fans should remain rational and we should trust the boys and their decision. I have talked about it initially here, but that was more of calling out fan etiquette than the cpn implications. some bxgs really fell into the brainwashing package of solos and i wanna discuss that here cause this fandom is not only about candies but being firm in our belief. you had shrimps saying wyb is the enemy cause he is all cozied up with gq, and some bxgs bought that. they were “disappointed” with wyb and made up stuff about him doing things against his will. then the same people were slapped in the face when yibo continued to work with him for his album which is about as personal as it gets. only a few respected wyb’s decision and trusted in him & xz. motos are saying gq will never work with someone like xz cause he is the enemy, and that’s why wyb is comfortable with rocco and team. which is proven to be wrong now cause he is working with them. who knows, they may even do a full feature for LOCH. this is a lesson to bxgs, do not rely on solo sob stories to make sense of zz and wyb cause they only see one side of the story. they were always okay with GQ. Maybe GG was hurt at some point but he moved on and so should the fans. i just hate the feeling that ZZ & WYB were so happy with the collabs they did with GQ, in the meantime, BXGs who are supposed to understand them the most were nowhere to be found. we should do better next time.
there are serious efforts out there to make us turn against one of them, and use cpfs as anti minions, so we should be more careful.
• BJYX and Tennis 🎾🎾🎾
• Their Ordinary Life - a translation of a post made about their lives as normal people, and riddled with known CPNs.
• the connection between the tod’s strap included in xzs 2024 media gift box and wyb’s alleged gucci strap accessory in SDC 5
• early cpf story
• new clue from a drawing of a cake 🎂
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lover boy - wip (re)intro
How do you navigate love after losing the person you loved the most?
I realised I don't like writing WIP intros where I just list everything super neatly + have a nice official summary so I am just going to infodump!! Lover Boy is an Adult Literary/Historical novel set in the late 1980s that follows a gay man's navigation of love, sexuality, community and grief after losing his best friend to AIDS. It's inspired by my own experiences of grief + caretaking and the dissertation I did on grief in queer AIDS narratives. It follows Beau, my beautiful special boy, and is like patchwork quilt of all of his avenues of love -- romantic, sexual, platonic, familial, communal, self -- that is stitched together with the grief from this one major loss. This is paralleled with chronological flashbacks telling the story of Bobby's illness, and how Beau took care of him.
Beau and Bobby are best friends who were platonically in love with each other, who had to adapt their relationship as Bobby got sicker and Beau became his caretaker, and in the midst of this adversity became closer than ever. Beau is a lover of love in all ways, who thinks the best holidays Halloween and Valentines Day, who loves sex but is bad at not falling in love afterwards, who has a soft heart, who also has a massive crush on George Michael. Bobby loved his life, his friends and going to the club with them, scenic hikes and swimming, his pet snake named Judas, leather and heavy metal and activism and also the Muppets (his fave was Gonzo btw). He was obsessed with volcanoes and wanted to be a volcanologist. And Beau misses him so much!!! He is trying to understand what his life is now after losing such a big part of it. He is trying to understand what kind of love he wants. He also is trying really hard not to fall back in love with his ex boyfriend who is back in the picture. And he is not really doing any of this well!!
Other features of this novel:
Gay + Autistic protagonist who doesn't know he is autistic but his special interest is horror movies and it shows (favourites are anything monstrous + full of bloodsoaked practical effects. Favourite of all time is The Lost Boys). Beau literally looks towards horror movies to try and understand grief and loss
Protagonist is a guy who actively wants to be haunted and is looking for any signs of ghosts
Lesbian + Gay + Bi + Trans + everything solidarity. An honouring of that history. Exploration on how the AIDS crisis shaped and reshaped community and identity because well, I did an entire dissertation on it and I am not putting that to waste!!! It is interesting and important!!
A narrative that is brutally honest about grief and death, and all the ways it is messy and complicated. A narrative that also doesn't always take itself seriously because sadness and joy are always holding hands
Narrative that plays around with form (video transcripts, letters, journal entries, descriptions of art) and POV (past + present tense blended together, third person present that often dips into second)
Exploration of caretaking on a community level and an intimate, one to one level. Look into how love is often all the little ways we help each other hold on.
Exploration of disability and sickness and how it shapes your identity, your relationship with yourself and others, especially when you're young (I also have a novella planned actually exploring this from Bobby's POV, but you didn't hear that from me!!!!)
The idea that grief never gets smaller, just your life grows around it
The idea that you can love your friends!!! You can be in love with them!! And that love is no "lesser" than romantic love, and it is just as beautiful and big and bright. Even when Beau navigates romantic relationships, these aren't put on a pedestal above any other type of love
A golden retriever named Atlas (Beau's own beautiful, special boy)
This is a personal project that I'm not publishing, but it means a lot to me so I will talk about it a lot!!! I've been playing around with it in its current form for about a year now and am finally making a dent in an actual first draft. My want is to share long, in depth pieces about how I navigate writing a story like this somewhere like Substack, and also all the fun of drafting it along the way. Expect infodumps and excerpts!!!
#i still dont know how tf to make a wip intro!!! posting this like ahhh so scary!#i will be honest i am not in a social media mood recently but it is literally beau's favourite day#so i don't know when i will post something for this but hopefully soon!!!#wip intro#what even are the writeblr tags these days#writeblr#amwriting#??#lover boy#there IS another wip intro for this in that tag but it is mildly outdated!!!
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Other than the horrible feeling inside his skull, Manny Vargas felt… good. Better than he had done in weeks. His cheeks were sore from laughing, his throat ached from talking, but his heart soared. The warm feeling in his chest was more than just alcohol. It was nostalgic, being back with the Khans. Their songs were just the same as Manny remembered. All cheering and dancing and swinging eachother around. Not even the man in the checkered suit sitting sourly in the corner could dispel the feeling of joy in that room.
I wrote ANOTHER Manny Vargas fic this time featuring Benny :) this takes place during the main story of FNV when the Khans and Benny stay at Manny's place in Novac
I'm also gonna mirror it right here
“Do not let Jessup buy any of those fuckin’ toys.” McMurphy said as he trudged up the stairs.
Not even a second passed after the door slammed, and Cliff waved one of those ever-so-tempting Dinky the Dinosaur toys, “Aw now don’t listen to him. You’ll never forgive yourself if you walk away now!”
Cliff Briscoe deserved some credit, he was completely undeterred by the sight of half a dozen Khans piling into his shop. In fact, he was delighted to see them. Most shopkeepers kept wary eyes on Khans, waiting for them to slip something into their pockets. But not Cliff Briscoe.
“No dice,” Benny said, pushing his way to the front, “We don’t want any of your junk, pal.”
Briscoe’s eyebrows knitted together as he scanned Benny. The Mojave dirt had somewhat diminished the crispness of Benny’s suit, but it still screamed ‘Hot Shot Casino Owner’ no matter how many days in a row he’d worn it. Though nowadays that seemed more like ‘Hot Shot Casino Owner After Wrestling With Six Khans’.
Still, ever resolute, Cliff pushed on, “Well… what are you looking for?”
“We’re not looking for anything, get it?” Benny snapped, and Jessup scowled at him.
“You got any slugs man? Twenty gage.” Jessup asked, leaning on the countertop to run a finger along the dinosaur’s spines, eyes wide with temptation.
Benny tutted, “And how are you gonna pay for that, genius?”
Jessup snapped upright. He shoved his face in Benny’s, lips pulled back in a snarl, “Get the fuck off my back.”
Benny’s mask cracked as he jolted away from Jessup, like snatching a hand away from a dog about to bite. Cliff eyed the pair hesitantly. One of the other Khans laughed. Jessup held fast, his stance daring Benny to get closer.
Benny was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. He raised his hands after a moment, placatingly, “Fine, do what you want.”
Jessup wrinkled his nose, then spat on the ground between them. Both Benny and Briscoe pulled a face, though Briscoe’s quickly disappeared as Jessup turned back to face him. Benny stalked away to another corner of the store, ignoring the Khans jeering at him. One of them elbowed him, Destiny--or ‘Eyepatch’ as Benny had taken to calling her in his head.
“Serves you right, dumbass,” She snickered as she flicked the lapel of his suit jacket, “Hasselin’ Jess when he ain’t sleepin’ right.”
Benny swore he’d never hit a woman, but he smacked Eyepatch’s arm away without thinking. She returned the favour by jabbing him in the ribs. Benny recoiled away, taking a learnt-- slightly out of practice --defensive stance.
“You hit me again girlie, and none of you are getting paid.” He hissed.
“I’m just playing, man. Don’t have to be so stuck up all the time.”
Benny ignored her, pretending to be very interested in the signed baseball cards framed on the wall instead of rubbing where she’d jabbed him. What he wouldn’t give to drop these idiots tonight and make his own way back to Vegas. But it was too many days away. He couldn’t risk sleeping unguarded. At least if the Khans robbed him in his sleep, he’d know where to start looking for the chip.
Not that they would. They weren’t exactly loyal, but they kept their word. It was almost nostalgic. The old style of honour big gangs like the Khans believed in. What the Boot Riders used to believe in. Not much honour left on the Strip these days, even Benny could see that.
He had to wonder if this ‘associate’ they were banking on lending them a room subscribed to the same worldview. As they’d approached Novac, McMurphy had raised an open palm to the dinosaur. He hadn’t elaborated much. ‘An old friend’, he’d said. Benny had heard some muttering from the other Khans, a couple of names he hadn’t heard before. It seemed that some were not as excited about this reunion as others.
The bell above the door jingled and a hush fell over the store.
“Oh, hey there Ranger Andy,” Cliff said cheerily, words that made Benny’s head jerk up. A fucking ranger? Here? Seriously?
Benny eyed each of the Khans, trying to guess which would step out of line and start shit with a ranger. None of them moved an inch, their gazes fixed on the Ranger who was wearing his full uniform and leaning heavily on a cane. All except Jessup, who kept his back to Andy and Benny. The Ranger licked his lips, glancing around at all the Khans in the tiny room.
“Uh, howdy Cliff. You alright there?” The Ranger spoke carefully, watching Cliff like he was waiting for him to blink SOS.
“Oh you know how business is these days, but I’m just fine.” Cliff replied cheerily, entirely oblivious to the look the Ranger was giving him, “I haven’t had any more of those holotapes you like, but I still got plenty of Dinkies!”
Benny watched Jessup, glaring at the back of his head waiting for any twitch. As if just staring at him could root him to the spot. Jessup may have had the old-style honour of the Boot Riders, but he didn’t have the obedience. But Jessup only glared at the countertop.
“Right.” The Ranger said, standing his ground, “Sure Cliff, you just let me know.”
Another door opened up above and a hot breeze blew in, carrying with it a pair of gruff voices. One belonged to McMurphy, and the other belonged to the assumed “friend”. No one in the room moved as the voices got closer until McMurphy reappeared and frowned at the stand-off, only to roll his eyes at the sight of it. No help there then.
“Friends of yours, Vargas?” The Ranger said.
“Uh,” This Vargas stepped out from behind the taller McMurphy and glanced at the gathered group, the bright blaring red of his beret the first and only thing Benny noticed, “Yeah, sorry Andy, forgot to tell you.”
“You’re not in the army anymore, son, you don’t need to check guests in with me,” Ranger Andy sounded miles more relaxed now than he did moments ago, “I can’t tell you what company to keep, was just a surprise on my afternoon visits, is all.”
Eyepatch beside Benny glared daggers at Vargas. The word ‘anymore’ had Benny’s ears pricked. An army boy, friends with some Khans? Benny didn’t like the NCR, but he was never one to turn down gossip. The way he heard it, they recruited just about anybody, and former raiders were a particular favourite of theirs. Like House to the gangs of The Strip, cushy digs could buy loyalty from a lot of people.
Not that Benny would sell out for anything less than what House came a’knocking with. He could at least rest easy knowing he would never scrub out his own identity for straw army cots and marching laps at the crack of dawn. No no no, it took far more than that. He had what some might call ‘standards’.
Vargas-- or “Manny” as the other Khans took to calling him, led their little band across the courtyard, earning even more raised eyebrows than when McMurphy had done the same earlier. Benny kept his head down, knowing his suit was loud enough on its own. He chewed on the information he’d gathered on Manny so far, which admittedly wasn’t much. A lot more attached to his clothes than the Khans seemed to be. Less scant leather, more cable knit red sweater.
As Manny worked on unlocking the door to his apartment, Benny’s eyes trailed to Manny’s boots. Soft leather, scuffed and dirty. Not one who took his soldier training to heart, it seemed. And, judging by the tattoos peeking out from under Manny’s long-sleeve shirt, not one who took pride in his old gang ink.
Manny pried his door open and ushered the group inside. The room was small and dingy, a bed, kitchen and diner all rolled into one, but compared to how Benny had been sleeping these past few days, it was a palace. Benny revelled in the soft carpet floors underfoot, considering how he’d felt every rock and bump in the road through his dress shoes. His eyes fell immediately on the double bed as Manny hurriedly picked up sheets from the floor and rearranged the pillows. So this visit was not expected, Benny realised. The single bulb overhead buzzed to life as McMurphy flipped a switch. Benny eyed him too, McMurphy was very… comfortable here. Like he’d been here many times before.
“Sit down somewhere, jeez,” Manny said and the Khans took that as a cue to flop onto the couch and promptly start fighting over space. Great. Five Khans, one ex-Khan and Benny between one couch and one double bed.
Benny glanced skywards again, squinting at the bulb. If Manny Vargas had electricity, did that mean…
“You got one ring-a-ding pad pal,” Benny said, sauntering over to Manny as he tidied up a stained mug and bowl that looked as if they’d been out for days, “Think you can answer my prayers and tell me you got hot water too?”
Manny stared at him like it was the first time he’d noticed there was a non-Khan amongst them. Though knowing he was a sniper, Benny could say with some certainty that it was an act. He didn’t even process that Manny might be staring at him like that for the nonsense words that’d just spilt from him. Manny looked down at Benny’s dress shoes, then back up at his slicked hair. Though slick with his own grease now, more than the pomade he’d applied days ago.
“You gonna pay my water bill, buddy?”
“You’re guarding the town all day and they still make you pay bills?” Benny probed, “Sheesh pal, they’re really wringing you dry.”
This time, Manny laughed. He dumped his cup and bowl in the sink and raised his hands in mock surrender, “Alright, you got me. I don’t pay for the water. But my landlady will get mad with me if we use too much.”
“Oh come on, now you’re just teasing me,” Benny said.
“Look man, I don’t even know you--”
“See! Exactly! You don’t know me! So why don’t you and your friends play catch up while I scrub the grime off my poor skin, whaddya say?”
Manny sighed, chewing the inside of his lip in what Benny hoped was serious consideration. His dark eyes flitted to the Khans like a cry for help.
“Please baby, just give me an hour alone with the shower.” Benny clasped his hands together, “Shall I beg? Look, you'll get the Ben-man down on his knees. I'll do it but it won't be pretty,”
“Yeah go on! Beg!” Jessup crowed from the couch, “I wanna see!”
Benny stopped to glare daggers at Jessup. Then turned back to Manny and flashed his best puppy-dog eyes. Manny pursed his lips, then glanced over at the Khans, grinning, and for a moment Benny was afraid Manny was about to make good on the begging act. But instead, Manny shrugged his shoulders and nodded to the bathroom.
“Go for it, man,”
“I could kiss you.”
“Yeah, you don’t need to do that.”
*
When Manny stepped into the dim light of the motel courtyard he pressed his back against the door of his room and took a steadying breath. The pleasant buzz of alcohol had started to creep towards a messy blur. He wasn’t a young man anymore, drinking every night on leave. When was the last time he’d had a drink?
Manny scrubbed his face, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in the hopes of stopping the feeling of the world rocking around him. Or at least stop it enough to keep from being violently sick on his own doorstep.
Other than the horrible feeling inside his skull, Manny Vargas felt… good. Better than he had done in weeks. His cheeks were sore from laughing, his throat ached from talking, but his heart soared. The warm feeling in his chest was more than just alcohol. It was nostalgic, being back with the Khans. Their songs were just the same as Manny remembered. All cheering and dancing and swinging eachother around. Not even the man in the checkered suit sitting sourly in the corner could dispel the feeling of joy in that room.
And tomorrow they’d be gone. He sighed into his hands.
“You okay Manny?”
Manny lifted his head to see McMurphy leaning against one of the posts that held up the balcony, cigarette between his fingers.
“Uh, yeah,” The alcohol made his tongue heavy in his mouth, “Yeah I’m… okay.”
“You sure?”
Manny pushed away from the door and made towards the post opposite McMurphy’s. He wrapped an arm around it and then remembered himself, straightening up to lean more casually and not like a total lightweight.
“I just needed some air,” he said.
McMurphy watched him out the corner of his eye, and even in the dark Manny could see the twitch of his lips smirking upwards. He brought the cigarette to his lips and sucked, the tip glowed ember.
“Me too,” McMurphy’s words came out in a curl of smoke.
They stood there in silence, nothing but stale smoke drifting between them. It had been a long time since Manny had talked with McMurphy. Going on ten years now. He remembered that leather jacket, before it was so beaten and soft, recognised old patches and paint under the new. McMurphy, like Jessup, was exactly as Manny had left him, but at the same time an entirely different man. Like a faded photo. Tired and worn but familiar.
“Do you remember when we climbed around in those old buildings, back in Vegas?” Manny asked.
“When we hopped rooftops when we got in trouble with your mom?” McMurphy chuckled, “Yeah, I remember.”
Manny snorted, “Oh man, after I ‘donated’ one of her old world plates as target practice. I thought she was gonna kill me!”
“So did we,” McMurphy flicked ash from his cigarette, still smiling, “Here I thought Khan moms were scary.”
Manny laughed again and fell into an easy, comfortable quiet. He glanced over at McMurphy, who was staring skywards. Manny followed his gaze to the millions upon billions of stars up above. It was what he missed the most after Mr House took Vegas back from the Khans. Maybe the Khans survived House’s onslaught of securitrons and bankrolled gangs, but the night sky did not. The stars never shone the same after he switched on the lights. Manny didn’t have the head for science to understand why, but even out here the sky was never quite the same.
“Can you still read the stars?” Manny asked absently.
“‘Course” McMurphy replied, Manny could still hear the smile on his lips, “Harder closer to Vegas but, I can still see what I need. Always know my way home.”
Home. That’s what he missed. A home he could never go back to, with a night sky he’d never see again. Home was what the Khans had. Wherever they pitched that night, that was home. And here he could feel it, their warmth and joy and love despite it all. Novac had none of that, not anymore, not since House, not since the NCR, not since Carla. Manny’s home was gone. Like his family, his friends, his night sky, all gone.
“You okay man?” McMurphy’s gentle voice drifted to him like smoke on the wind.
Manny’s eyes prickled and he could feel hot tears on his cheeks. Goddamn it. He scrubbed them away with the back of his hand. But he was already caught.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
The quiet from McMurphy stretched on and Manny’s cheeks burnt hot with shame. His head swam with alcohol and his heart ached. It hurt! A burning pain that tightened his throat and forced a sob from his mouth when he tried to laugh it off. The gravel crunched under McMurphy’s boots as he closed the gap between them and wrapped his strong arms around Manny without hesitation. And Manny cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he did. He cried and McMurphy held him close, rubbing circles into his back and shushing him gently.
McMurphy smelt of clean sweat, leather and cigarettes, with just an undertone of amber. He was taller than Manny, and his jacket was soft and worn. Manny wrapped his arms gingerly around his chest as he tried to get his breathing under control and not snivel all over the friend he hadn't seen in a decade.
“It’s just so-- shit,” Manny managed.
“Tell me about it,” McMurphy said.
“I keep screwing things up. I feel like I-- I threw away everything and for what? A shit job, no friends, my family hates me! I wake up every day and I think is-- is this it?! Is this all I have left? One shitty hotel room and twelve hours of standing around on my own?” Manny rambled, “Okay-- I had one friend here. One! But his wife hates me so he’s barely allowed to talk to me and now she’s taken off back to Vegas and he thinks I ran her out of town! Is this it?”
“C’mon man, you’re barely thirty. You’ll be fine,” McMurphy pulled back, his hands on Manny’s shoulders, forcing Manny to look at him, “I promise. You’ll be ok.”
“I just…” Manny sighed, “I feel like I’ve wasted all my chances. I fucked things up with Vegas, I tried to have my cake and eat it too with the Khans and-- you know what happened there. And then the only good thing I did in the army was… leave.”
“Yeah, and it takes guts to do that,” McMurphy said, “Look, Manny, you think anyone else in that room can say they’ve done all the things you have? Anyone in this town? You’ve been a son, a raider, a soldier, a citizen, a guard-- all before you got even one grey hair. Not even that beat-up old ranger can say that.”
“But--”
McMurphy prodded Manny square in the chest, just over his heart, “You got guts, and you got skills. Ain’t nothing else you need. You want friends? Well you got one right here--” McMurphy pointed a thumb at himself, “and I know Jesse’s always gonna have your back no matter what.”
Manny scrubbed his eyes on the sleeve of his sweater. This time, when he laughed, he didn’t stop by accident, “Hey. Good to know we’re still friends.”
“Sure we are.”
“Even after everything?”
“Even after everything.”
*
Manny woke with a strip of light in his eyes and a weight on his chest. It would be more pleasant if his head wasn’t throbbing. Manny scrunched his eyes up to block out as much of the morning sun as possible as he tried to think of the name of who he was in bed with. It wasn’t unusual, he’d taken men to bed before. Passers-by mostly, someone he wouldn’t have to look in the eye every time they bumped into each other in the gift store. He’d learnt his lesson there.
Then the night before started to creep into Manny’s memory. The Khans who came to stay.
“Shit,” Manny hissed to himself. He peaked down at the arm draped over his chest. McMurphy. Okay, McMurphy being in bed with him was a good sign. He had the integrity to refuse any drunken kissing from Manny, at least. Especially in a room full of other Khans. Manny squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to any god that would listen that he didn’t embarrass himself last night.
“Hey hey wakey wakey baby, about time too. I just sent your hair-challenged friend off with a line about you powdering your nose,” Benny called over, making little effort to keep his voice down, “But before you go, how abouts you wake up one of your pals so we can split before the heat sets in.”
Manny scrubbed the sleep from his eyes, only half understanding the words that had just spilt from Benny’s mouth, “You saw Boone?”
“Boon, is it? Not sure if he really looked like a boon I’d want. Unless what I wanted was a plank of wood.” Benny huffed smoke out the door, squinting into the rising sun, “What time did your shift start anyhoo?”
“Shit.”
Manny tossed away the covers and shot from the bed. McMurphy groaned beside him, covering his head with the arm Manny had abandoned. First Manny looked for his clothes, only to find that he had fallen asleep still wearing them. All save for his boots, which were neatly paired at the end of his bed. Manny plopped his ass on the bed and shoved his feet into his boots, pushing away the vague recollections of McMurphy prying the boots off him as Manny drunkenly insisted on sleeping with them on.
Great. The first time seeing his childhood friends in years and he’d gotten drunk and acted the fool. What else can go wrong today? What about angering Boone even more? Sounds just perfect.
Manny gave up on his laces, standing up and setting a ginger hand on McMurphy’s shoulder. McMurphy made another sound that could have meant anything from “What do you want?” to “Go away”.
“Hey man, listen. I gotta go but-- thanks for last night. I really mean it. I hope I see you again soon, okay?”
He hoovered for half a second as McMurphy shifted, rubbing grit from his eyes. Before the man could wake up fully, Manny leant down and pressed a kiss to his temple. Then he straightened and fled from the room, pushing past Benny to run towards the dinosaur.
“Manny?” McMurphy croaked.
Benny blew smoke out the door again, watching Manny half jog, half stumble in his unlaced boots, “He’s gone, pal.”
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Chapter 28: Part 1: What They Don't Know
Summary: The Commission react to the Danny & Endeavor fight
Word Count: 3039
“What was that?!” Ms. Makoto yelled across the table at Eraserhead. She really had lost all decorum.
Keigo couldn’t blame her exactly. A lot of pressure was placed on her since it was her job to actually deal with Phantom. Not only that but with the heroes being attacked last night and now this, the commission were doing everything they could from getting the story out. How would the public react if not one, not two, not even three but four pro heroes got taken down, one of them being the #2 hero no less. They may have the luxury of hiding behind Phantom being a group, but how long will that last? So many N.D.As had been signed already. Panic will spread one way or another, right now it was all about controlling when.
“Can you be more specific?” Eraserhead dodged the question. He didn’t even look phased. Phantom put him in quite the state. With one hit he easily shattered Eraserhead’s nose and left him with two black eyes. Good thing he has that old lady to run back to.
“You know what I mean,” Ms. Makoto tried to sound more authoritative than she actually was, “What were you and Phantom talking about.”
“I was asking him to surrender.” He answered simply.
Keigo hadn’t arrived on scene until both Endeavor and Eraserhead were loaded onto a stretcher. It was a bittersweet feeling to see your childhood idol being so thoroughly beaten. Keigo had gotten used to most feelings so he was able to push it back.
He only got a brief explanation on what happened along with the others, baring a few details of course. He was also told that all the surveillance tapes in the area got corrupted, not that the Commission would let him see them if they weren’t. They were strangely secretive about Phantom, more so than any of Keigo’s previous targets. In was in part to the tapes that they even had to do this meeting. As it was now, they had no idea what happened between Eraserhead and Phantom aside from the reports. Having said that, doing it like this solved nothing and only caused more problems.
“Why didn’t you use your quirk on him?” Ms. Makoto grit out between clenched teeth. It was a valid and most obvious question. Keigo stopped playing with one of his feathers and leaned closer in his chair.
“He punched me in the face,” Eraserhead squinted at her as if to make it clearer, “I couldn’t see him.”
Keigo knew that was bull shit. He had seen the reports about the USJ incident not to mention had studied Eraserhead’s quirk extensively. He had erased quirks with far more damage to his eyes.
“Why didn’t you attack him then?” The other obvious question. Judging from what he’s been told, Eraserhead put up no resistance to the vigilante, instead allowing himself to be hit. Keigo didn’t think he planned to fight, he didn’t even have his scarf with him. The hero looked almost naked without it.
“I thought I’d be able to reason with him. He was surrounded. I didn’t know that he could fly.” Eraserhead reasoned. Nothing he said could be proven false and he knew it.
“Didn’t you read the reports?” Ms. Makoto was on her last nerve.
“What reports?” For a second there Eraserhead looked smug.
“The one with Stain!” She blurted out. All too quickly she covered her mouth and turned to the other occupants of the room. They were the same heroes as the ones before when Endeavor made his little exit. Despite them being recruited to hunt down Phantom, the Stain as well as last night's full report were sealed to them.
“Why would Phantom be in the Stain report?” Eraserhead asked, “I thought Endeavor took him down.”
He knew, of course he knew. It was his three students that were attacked by Stain after all.
“Uh yes. He did.” Ms. Makoto tried to fix her hair, “Of course he did. I just mean that it overlapped with the Nomu incident, that's all.”
“I don’t recall flight being mentioned in those reports,” Eraserhead said casually, “I’d have to look those over again, I apologize.”
He had her and she knew it. Keigo smiled and Ms. Makoto’s head shot towards him. They held each other's gazes until he let go. It wasn’t worth it.
A calm expression crossed her face and she sighed dramatically, “No that won’t be needed anymore. You are removed from the case, hereby immediately.”
All the other heroes looked around at each other confused. Even Keigo wasn’t prepared for that. Sir Nighteye stood up.
“Ms. Makoto, surely you don’t mean that,” he gestured at Eraserhead, “He is a vital piece in capturing Phantom, what with how many quirks there are. It would be foolish to let him go.”
“Quirks?” He turned her gaze to him, “What do you mean ‘quirks?’”
“Doesn’t each member of Phantom have a powerful quirk? What else would I mean?”
Keigo couldn’t hide his smile from slipping once more. Ms. Makoto didn’t even challenge him on it. She just looked stressed now. Looks like someone was gonna get a stern talking to later.
“Yes, you’re right,” she tried to laugh it off but nobody bought it, “What else would I mean.”
She fell into her chair and drank from the bottle on her desk. A tense air filled the tiny room as each hero watched her. Mirko glared at her angrily, one of her feet thumping the ground. Clearly, she did not like having information withheld from her.
“I understand your concerns, Sir Nighteye, but rest assured we’ll be able to capture Phantom just fine. We can’t afford to have that kind of hesitation when dealing with this menace. I’m afraid Eraserhead is still off the team.” She turned to him, “Eraserhead, make sure to leave your tracker at the door and we’ll have security escort you out.”
“I can find my way out,” Eraserhead protested. He bowed and placed the device on the table, walking calmly out.
“You cannot be serious!” Sir Nighteye shouted, “Do you not understand how large of a threat Phantom is? He-” Sir Nighteye coughed, “They just took out Endeavor! Do you really think a team as small as this is able to handle that?!”
Keigo’s mouth ticked. Did he know too? How and for how long? Had he seen something with Phantom? No, he had to have come into contact with him for his quirk to work and he would’ve said something. Wouldn’t he? Sir Nighteye was All Might’s sidekick, perhaps he got the information from UA, but there was no way to confirm that. Keigo hated how UA interfered with the investigation. They hadn’t even made any obvious moves their people were everywhere. Eraserhead had shown more loyalty to the Commission in the past, but it was clear that was false. He didn’t even know why Ms. Makoto would let him on the case in the first place.
“I assure you, I understand the threat perfectly. That's why I chose you all. I think that you all pose the best threat to Phantom working together.”
“Not with a third of our team gone.” Sir Nighteye bit back.
“If you don’t like it, you can leave.” Ms. Makoto challenged. She did not understand what she just did.
“Very well,” Sir Nighteye fixed his tie and Ms. Makoto smiled, “I will.”
“What?!” She stood up quickly, flinging her chair back.
“No need to call security, I won’t be a fuss,” Sir Nighteye placed his tracker on the table and walked out briskly, clearly chasing down Eraserhead.
Awkward silence filled the room once more. All that was left were the three heroes and Ms. Makoto’s assistant in the room. Mirko looked on the brink of attacking the lady that was meant to guide them while Ragdoll just looked concerned.
“This is a bit too much for me,” Ragdoll blurted out. She still had her smile on, it was just more nervous than the eternal toy one. “If we maybe had more members or given more information, maybe we could do it, but as it is now…?”
She bowed and placed her tracker on the table as well, quickly leaving the room. Keigo couldn’t help it as he burst out laughing. Oh they didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell now.
“What the hell is this?!” Mirkio couldn’t stand it any longer and stood up slamming her hand on the table. Ms. Makoto slouched back into her chair.
“That is the trash taking itself out, I suppose,” She waved her off.
“Oh no! You do NOT get to take that attitude with me, lady! Those are heroes you just insulted!” Mirkio looked around the room, a confused and disgusted look on her face, “Why is nobody reacting? We just lost our best chance at taking down Phantom and you look like you’re at lunch.” She started pointedly at Keigo.
“We can get other members, that was never the issue,” Ms. Makoto waved her off.
“Then please,” Mirkio said sickly sweet, “What is the issue?”
“Information.” She stated simply. Mirkio sat back down and glared at her.
“Oh yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that,” the sarcasm was clear in her voice.
Ms. Makoto sighed once more, “We were waiting for more data and results before we told you all, but I suppose now is really no time to be secretive about it.”
Another wave of tense air spread through the room. Was she really gonna tell Mirkio? Honestly, Keigo was surprised they didn’t tell anyone at the last meeting, but that was the Commission for you. Everything had to be a secret, if they tell you one thing there’s gonna be way more they’re hiding.
“This goes beyond a simple vigilante case, what I’m about to tell you could affect everything we know about quirks,” she let her words hang in the air and marinate.
Keigo put his feather down. He was well aware of Phantom true numbers possible ties to the league, but that was it. He had heard rumors, of course. It was his job to hear rumors. Nothing concrete, just the vague whispers of a powerful villain and his spawn. A kid with a rotten dad and a powerful quirk wanting to be a hero. It would be more tragic if it wasn’t so predictable. No matter how much he investigated or poked they wouldn’t give him the information. Who could it be to keep it all hush-hush?
“Miriko,” Mirkio’s head snapped to Ms. Makoto, “If you want out now, do it. Past this point it’s no longer a matter of losing your license if you leave, but relocation.”
Keigo didn’t mention how she didn’t say his name. Mirkio sat and thought for a moment, her head clearly balancing the risks and the rewards. Information was powerful and if they went against Phantom they would need all the power they can get.
A stressed expression took over her features, “What if we don’t end up catching Phantom? What if we end up like Endeavor or the other heroes?”
“If that is to happen, the Commission will take responsibility. You will bear no consequences. We understand your concerns, this is more about not wanting the information to get out.”
Another thoughtful expression crossed her face before she finally answered, “Alright, fine. I’ll do it,” She looked like she swallowed something sour.
“I knew you were a good choice,” Ms. Makoto smiled and Keigo felt the need to barf.
Ms. Makoto looked over at her assistant and she nodded in turn, handing her another folder. Ms. Makoto slid it across the table to Miriko and she cautiously opened it. She started reading it when her eyes widened, setting the folder down and looked at the others in the room in shock and horror.
“It’s only one kid?” She asked, her voice quiet.
“Indeed,” Ms. Makoto began setting up the projector from last time.
“But that would mean…” Miriko trailed off, “How?”
That was the question on Keigo’s mind since he found out as well. He had his own theories of course. Phantom revealed himself the same night as the Nomu’s, it wasn't hard to make a connection between the two. The only difference between them was that Phantom appeared more stable and was able to talk, at least for now.
“That is information even myself is not competely privy to.” of course she didn’t know.
Ms. Makoto pulled some images on the screen. All of them were composite sketches of Phantom, but each one had varying facial features. The only constant detail was the color of eyes and his white hair.
“As you can see we don’t even know what he looks like,” she pointed to the pictures, “we think he has a quirk that affects people's perception of him or that is the result of another quirk he has.”
“How many quirks does he have?” Miriko asked, confusion in her tone at trying to process the information.
“We don’t know,” she turned to the next slide with information about Phantom’s theorized quirks, “This is what we’ve seen but it could be more. Endeavor hasn’t been able to report anything new for obvious reasons.”
“And the Commission still believes we can stop,” Miriko gestures at the projection, “This?!”
“Not without support,” Ms. Makoto turned to her assistant who was holding a metal briefcase. Keigo recognised the shape of it. There was a weapon in there.
Now he was invested. He fully sat up in his chair, discarding the feather to join the others.
“As I mentioned last time, the ice Phantom left behind as well as the radiation matched something in our archives,” she went to the next slide which showed an atomic model of something. It was labeled ‘ecto-ranium.’
“We believe this is how we can take down Phantom. His ice was not able to be chipped at or melted by normal means, but when our scientists used picks coated with ecto-ranium it was like normal ice,”
This Keigo did not know. He wondered if this had any similarities with Ectoplasm's quirk since they both were of similar material. He had heard that the hero’s clones were resistant and even corrosive to some types of metal, similar to what happened with Phantom and Stain’s sword. How effective would this ecto-ranium be against someone like him?
“Since that discovery, the scientists have been working on other ways to harness this material to take down Phantom,” She opened the briefcase.
In it looked to be an ordinary gun, if a bit small. It was a silver color and faintly glowed, beside it were 3 bright green bullets.
“This is one of the results,” Ms. Makoto put on a pair of latex gloves and held up one of the bullets. “This is no mere bullet, but rather a tranquilizer. It is designed to interrupt the flow of Phantom’s ectoplasm quirk that his body is made up of.”
“Made of- wha?” Miriko looked puzzled but suddenly a flash of anger went across her face, “No way, we can’t do that, that will kill him!” she shouted.
Even Keigo had a twisting feeling in his stomach. His feathers started bristling despite him not meaning in. He had to keep it in. Phantom wasn’t a person, he wasn’t even a kid, he was a target. And unless Keigo wanted to take his place, he had to do as he was ordered, no matter how he felt.
“It’s entirely non lethal. Each bullet only holds enough to stun him and inhibit him using that quirk, in all forms. That should make him easier to handle and then capture. Think of it as a tourniquet to stop bleeding. The effects will only be temporary.”
“Still, you can’t be serious!” Mirkio jumped up from her seat again, “He’s just a kid, you’re talking about taking him out as if he were a wild animal!” she looked over at Keigo, “you have to see how fucked up this is?!”
Keigo sighed, “All I see is a villain that needs to be taken down. He’s already proven to be a threat,” he looked at her in the eyes trying to look somber, “just look at what he did to Endeavor? To Eraserhead? He didn’t even attack him and Phantom just punched him. He’s too unpredictable to let him free…”
A horrified expression took over his fellow hero’s face and she back away, “No,” she shook her head, “this is wrong, this is-”
“What we have to do.” Keigo finished.
“Did you forget the terms, Miriko?” Ms. Makoto spoke up and Miriko’s head snapped to hers, “If you don’t agree, you will have to be relocated.”
“I thought you said that the Commission will understand if we can’t do it?” She looked frantic.
“No, that is for if you fail to capture Phantom or are hurt in the process. The Commission holds no reservations about keeping you quiet if you leave now.”
“So I really have no choice?” Miriko laughed and it sounded small and pathetic. She fell back into her chair.
“I’m afraid not,” Ms. Makoto shook her head.
Miriko held her face in her hands, forcing herself to come to terms with what she must do. “I can’t believe this…”
Keigo had his own reservations. He knew what had to be done though and what that meant for Phantom. He was serious when he said he thought Phantom should become a hero. Not only was his display of quirks powerful, but the Commission could have concocted a sob story about how he always wanted to be a hero and the like. It wouldn’t be hard to take his ‘brothers’ out of the equation either. They would’ve created the perfect hero, a face loved by the people and a dagger to use in their pocket. It was the best outcome for the boy since Keigo knew that UA wouldn’t be able to handle him. He’d be under the Commission's thumb but at least he wouldn’t be rotting in a cell somewhere or worse.
But now with Endeavor? Well, there’s no use having a puppet you can’t control.
#danny phantom#dp#dp fic#danny fenton#dp x bnha#dp crossover#mha#dp cross#boku no hero academia#bnha#hawks mha#miriko
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Been a long time coming but I was too busy with Bad Sansuary to finish this last one up. I had originally planned two more bonus chapters but I think the story ends nicely here. Besides, I'm ready to wrap up this project.
This chapter happens immediately after Chapter 30: Souls btw.
First Day & Previous Day.
Bonus 3: Respite
You let Papyrus go with Sans so they could talk with Gaster on their own. It just seemed fair to you somehow.
Instead, you turned your attention to Frisk who was still standing near the King and Queen. While you were still a bit lightheaded, you were able to stand up and walk so long as you were careful.
Frisk glanced over as soon as you approached and a bright grin immediately broke out over their face. They turned and practically went to tackle you, except you scooped them up into a fierce bear hug and embraced them.
"I'm so glad you're safe..." you whispered. Your voice trembled and you couldn't manage to hold everything together any longer. While you normally hated crying in front of strangers, you no longer cared if anyone thought badly of you.
It was finally over. Against all odds, you'd both survived. Surely, this was the best possible ending... You couldn't imagine how things could be any better at least.
Frisk loosened their hold on you and lightly patted your shoulder to get your attention. When you let go slightly and pulled back, you could see that they had been crying as well from the tear tracks running down their cheeks. They vigorously wiped their face on their sweater sleeves and smiled weakly.
"I tried so hard..." they signed slowly. "This is it now... We can't go back anymore."
Your eyes widened slightly at the realization of what they meant set it. This was permanent and there would be no more resets. Now it was your turn to get them through the days ahead and, while you were a little anxious, you were glad to put this whole difficult journey behind you.
"You did so good, Frisk. I couldn't have done any of this without you," you responded. "Thank you..."
They seemed relieved to hear that and smiled more genuinely. "I love you..." they signed.
With a slight chuckle, you ruffled their fluffy hair and pressed a quick kiss on the top of their head, much to their embarrassment. "I love you too, kiddo."
Your self awareness suddenly kicked in and you glanced up to find the three goat monsters just quietly watching you and Frisk's reunion. You swallowed nervously and out of habit pulled Frisk a bit closer again, except they resisted and pushed off your chest much to your surprise.
"This is Asriel, my best friend," they signed and motioned to the little goat monster you'd never seen before.
The goat child glanced at Toriel before approaching you apprehensively. He had similar scruffy white fur as his parents did, long floppy ears, and a pair of fangs that slightly poked out of his mouth. He also had a pair of sharp but stubby horns on the top of his head and his eyes were yellow with a red ring around the black sclera. You couldn't be sure of his age, but from his green and yellow striped sweater and black overalls, he seemed older than Frisk, maybe eight or nine?
"Um, hi... It's nice to meet you properly this time," he said. His voice was a bit gruffer than you'd initially expected and while he seemed rather shy right now, there was a bit of a teasing lilt in his tone.
"Sorry, we've met before?" Turning to Frisk, you asked, "And when did you make a best friend?"
Frisk grinned in a mischievous way before responding. "He was trapped in a flower until now. Remember Flowey?" When you nodded, they added, "Well, I gave him a small piece of my soul so he could return to his true form."
To say you were concerned was a bit of an understatement. While you still didn't know much about souls in general, even you knew that a person's soul was not something that could just be given away carelessly.
Glancing between both children, you couldn't help the slight frown that flickered across your face. "Frisk...how? Are you okay...?" You had no idea how to respond to this situation and your tongue couldn't seem to form any substantial sentences at the moment.
While Asriel couldn't maintain eye contact with you, Frisk seemed confident with their decision. They nodded vigorously and quickly tried to reassure you. "I had a lot of Determination, much more than most people do, so I gave Asriel some of it to form a soul for him. Which is why I can't do that...thing anymore. We'll be fine, okay?"
You didn't really understand what they meant but if Frisk was so sure that everything would be okay, then you would do your best to trust them. They had been responsible for freeing everyone after all, the least you could do was believe them, right?
"Alright then. While I don't fully understand all this, I'm glad you both seem to be fine." With a smile, you turned to Asriel again, "Nice to meet you then. I apologize but I had no idea you and Frisk were so close."
"It's alright..." The goat child smiled sheepishly and rubbed the fur on the back of his neck. "I'll be honest, I didn't know they thought of me that way either. They're really amazing, aren't they?"
You grinned and moved some stray hair strands out of Frisk's face. "They really are..." you murmured.
Toriel placed a furry paw on Asriel's shoulder and squeezed him in an affectionate way. "I... Or rather we, are so, so grateful to have our son back. Thank you, Frisk..."
Asgore had been very quiet after everything that had happened. If you were to guess, he seemed to be the strong and stoic type who rarely showed any emotion. Still, he had shed more than a few tears earlier when first reunited with his son, so he wasn't completely heartless at least. You still didn't like him though and that probably wouldn't change any time soon.
He knelt down in front of Frisk and bowed his head slightly, but he was still much taller than them even like this. "Thank you...Frisk, for bringing Asriel back. And thank you for breaking the barrier when we could not," he said solemnly.
Frisk smiled sweetly up at the now humbled king. They lightly patted his massive furry paw with their much smaller hand before answering. "You're welcome!"
The King turned his gaze to you, his yellow eyes still glistening with emotions, but that air of solemn duty he had been exuding earlier was back. "I want to do what is best for my people and I believe right now peace with your kind is the right thing to do. Forgive me, but would you be willing to help with the negotiations with the human government? Like an ambassador of sorts?" he asked.
Frisk nodded excitedly but you frowned and put your hand on their shoulder, which got their attention. Squaring your shoulders, you addressed the King of Monsters for the second time today.
"I am going to have to decline your offer on the basis that neither of us have any experience with politics and Frisk isn't even seven." You held up a finger before he could interject, "However, I am willing to help for the sake of all the friends I've made and to make a better world for everyone."
While he seemed a little disappointed, Asgore seemed to take your rejection pretty well. He stood up again and gave you a firm nod. "Very well... I suppose it was presumptuous of me to ask, especially after everything you've both been through."
He pressed his furry paw against his gold plated chestplate before adding, "I will make a decree that no monster is to harm a human. If there is to be true peace, we must prove to your kind that we are willing to put aside our past grievances."
"For the sake of our son and our people, I will assist in negotiating with the humans," Toriel stated. Her tone of voice had turned cold as she turned to address Asgore but there was still a spark of hope in her eyes, despite the obvious tension between them.
The King seemed momentarily taken aback and he started to say something, but stopped himself. "We should sit down and discuss how things will be going forward," he mentioned with a bit of an awkward cough.
Toriel only let out a low hum in agreement and narrowed her yellow eyes at him.
You felt incredibly awkward all of the sudden, wanting to be anywhere but next to the bitter former couple. You didn't want to just walk away, although you didn't know what or if you should say anything.
Fortunately, you were saved from making a fool of yourself when Undyne scooped both Frisk and Asriel up in each arm. The goat child let out a startled bleat and flailed his arms for a bit until he realized he wasn't going to fall. Undyne then shifted both children so they were sitting on each of her shoulders and chuckled, flashing a sharp toothed grin at you as she did so.
"I don't know how you did it, but congrats! The barrier is gone!" she exclaimed. Her grin faltered a little and in a quieter voice she added, "I wasn't so sure I'd ever get to see it for myself and if I did, never like this."
Frisk attempted to give the fish lady a hug but could only wrap their arms around her head. They ended up just leaning down and resting their upper body and head on top of hers, earning a quiet chuckle from her.
You couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight. "I don't understand it myself but I suppose it doesn't really matter. We're here and we managed to do so without much bloodshed. I'm just so happy..."
You trailed off as you felt your throat start to close up again and the familiar sting of tears at the corners of your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you managed to blink away your tears before they could flow down your cheeks. Alphys then appeared next you and placed one of her clawed hands on your arm in a reassuring manner.
"I don't know how to begin to thank either of you for being willing to support us. The chances of our plan even working were slim and if we'd failed, I know it would have cost both of you greatly," you finally said, doing your best to keep your voice even, although it was a bit difficult.
Undyne carefully set the kids back onto the ground and scratched the back of her neck. "Ah, well, of course we'd help. Friends stick by each other..." she murmured in a much quieter voice than she usually did. Her gills and cheekbones seemed to become a deeper blue and she was having a hard time actually looking at you all of the sudden.
For once, Alphys didn't seem like the more shy one of the two women and she gave you a gentle smile. "I'd been working on finding a way to break the barrier for my whole tenure as Royal Scientist. I'm just very glad it's all over and that we can finally have peace." She grew thoughtful for a moment before adding, "Even if this hadn't worked, it was worth a try I think. I'm just glad we could help you and put an end to the violence."
"Me too," you hummed.
When the skeletons eventually rejoined the group, you began to sense a sort of anticipation in the air. You felt a similar sense of excitement as it had been months since you'd seen the sun and had all but given up on seeing it again. You thought the monsters actually seemed a little hesitant though, as if they were afraid to take the first step outside in possibly a millenia or more.
Frisk tugged at your sleeve and motioned to the opening in the cave. You gave them a gentle nod and they instantly grabbed one of Asriel's paws, beginning to pull him towards the fading sunlight. That seemed to be the push the others needed and they began to follow the children to the surface. The older monsters followed at a slower pace and you noticed how solemn their expressions had become.
Papyrus glanced back at you and tilted his skull. When you realized he was waiting, you darted over and gave him a hug. He smiled and pressed a skeleton kiss against the top of your head, before wrapping an arm around you and guiding you towards the sunlight.
The sun had sunk halfway below the horizon, colouring the sky with a canvas of reds, oranges, and yellows. You took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air but instead of focusing on the sunset, you turned to see the reactions of your friends instead.
Asgore and Toriel still seemed solemn and you could see their eyes once again glistening with tears of joy. You couldn't help but wonder what the world had been like back before the war that had trapped them Underground. Hopefully, things would be better now.
Asriel had a small frown on his face and you noticed he seemed a little sad. At least Frisk was quick to comfort them but your heart went out to the poor goat child. No one deserved to be sad, let alone children, and you hoped he would be okay.
Undyne was completely silent for once but you swore you could see her good eye sparkling with unbridled excitement. There was a wide grin plastered across her face and while her body was tense, it was as if she was trying to desperately contain herself while everyone took in the view.
Alphys seemed awestruck as well and her jaw dropped which she quickly covered with her hands. The glow of the last few rays of sunshine reflected off her round glasses and you couldn't look directly at her for very long. She caught your eye and you saw her cheeks flush a bright pink, although she quickly looked up at Undyne rather than try to duck away from embarrassment.
Gaster's expression seemed rather clinical and he had propped up his chin with one hand in silent contemplation. You couldn't imagine what was going through his skull right now and you weren't about to ask either. Maybe he was thinking about the future? You would have to sit down and have a proper conversation to get to know him at some point.
Sans wore the widest grin you'd ever seen on his face. His hands were stuffed into his gray hoodie's pockets as he slowly rocked back and forth on his heels. You realized he'd noticed you staring at him when he turned his skull slightly to look at you out of the corner of his eye sockets. His crimson eyelights seemed to glitter with an almost childlike wonder and you couldn't help but smile back at him.
Papyrus' scarlet pinpricks were similarly sparkling but the expression he wore was more serious than that of his brother. He couldn't seem to tear his eye sockets away from the sky or the sunset even for a moment. His arm was still wrapped around your waist but his grip on you had slackened as he took in as much of the beautiful sight as he could.
"Sans..." he finally murmured. "Is That...?"
His brother hummed quietly in agreement. "yep, that's the sun..."
"I Never Thought I Would Actually See It..."
You slid one of your hands up his back and leaned against his chestplate in an attempt to get even closer together. "You can see the real stars too if we wait long enough," you remarked softly, although your voice was still loud enough for the others to hear.
There were quiet murmurs of agreement, although some were more enthusiastic than others, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself.
It didn't take long for the sun to finally dip below the horizon and the last of the brilliant colours to give way to twilight. By then, everyone had gotten settled into various groups on the mountainside to wait for the first star to make its presence known.
You took this moment to have a bit of a silent reflection. So much had changed over the last several months, you'd made several new friends, learned a ton about an entirely new culture, helped set a civilization free to rejoin humanity, found out you actually had magic, and now you were technically engaged with a monster. Your life had definitely taken a turn for the better and while the reintegration of Monsters into Human society likely wouldn't be easy, you were ultimately hopeful for what the future held.
At some point, Frisk made their way back to you and Papyrus trailed behind them. You smiled and made room so they could sit in the soft grass next to you. Frisk was all to happy to sit in your lap and sprawl out on top of you, which you didn't mind in the slightest. Papyrus on the other hand seemed content to just hold you close and rest his clavicle on the top of your head.
You could hear quiet gasps of surprise from the other monsters when the first stars appeared. It didn't take long for the sky to be dotted with hundreds of little twinkling lights and even you found yourself in awe at the sight. The light pollution in the city had never allowed you to see nearly this many, even on clearer nights like this one.
Frisk suddenly patted your arm to get your attention and when you glanced down at them, they grinned up at you. "Thank you for being there and always encouraging me...Mom..."
For a second, you wondered if they'd made a mistake and used the wrong sign or if you'd misinterpreted them. But no, they had tapped their thumb to their chin with an open hand and by the way their cheeks had flushed a light pink, you realized it wasn't that kind of mistake.
You didn't know what to say for several long seconds. Once you'd managed to find your voice, you gave their fluffy hair a gentle pat. "Do you see me like that, kiddo? As a parent...?" you asked quietly.
They looked surprised for a moment before slowly nodding.
"Do you want me to be?"
"Yes! I would!" they signed excitedly as a wide grin broke across their face. "I love you so much!"
You smiled and moved some stray locks of their hair out of their face. "Alright then, I'll try looking into seeing if your parents will allow me to become your guardian, okay?"
Papyrus let out a soft chuckle and pulled away from you a little bit. "I Told You So, Precious," he teased.
You huffed and gave him a bit of a playful swat. "Yeah, you did, multiple times in fact! I didn't want to promise something I couldn't make good on, okay?" You sighed and looked away from both of them before adding, "I'm not even sure if your parents will agree to this, but I'm going to try my hardest. I guess...after everything, I've come to see you as my own... I love you so much, Frisk."
Frisk wrapped their arms around your waist and buried their face in your sweater. You gave them a gentle hug back as best you could in this position.
Glancing back at Papyrus, you furrowed your brows slightly as a realization occured to you. "Are you okay with this? I know in the past you expressed that you don't like kids very much..."
He shook his skull and gave Frisk an affectionate pat on their back. "I Like Frisk And I Would Be Willing To Try Being In Their Life. Whether That Means Being An Actual Father Figure Or Just Continuing Supporting Both Of You Like I Have Already," he said.
You smiled and put your hand on top of his. This seemed like a great arrangement and you couldn't help feeling a little excited at the idea of having a family.
Things would turn out okay.
#selfshipufpap#raccoons drabbles#undertale#underfell#underfell papyrus#underfell papyrus x reader#reader#female reader#the hand we've been dealt#thwbd#oneshot#alternate timeline#the first bonus chapter would've been a month later on the surface and they would've soul bonded#the second one would've been a year later when Rihanna's family comes to visit for the holidays and meets Papyrus#not sure if i'll ever write them
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Sakha headcanon post - courtesy of my conversations with @topipaku !! Thank you 🙏
Huge huge film bro he loves discussing films and makes his own
I headcanon that he is very much like a lawyer when it comes to business stuff but this somewhat "strong headed/argumentative" mentality also extends to how he critiques certain films or goes about explaining them
His favorite type of film is comedy/horror and a lot of his own projects involves someone dying in some shape or form
You can blame his love of everything morbid on Even, Evenk and Yukaghir, who often (when he was younger) tell him some pretty spooky stories (such as the Even folk tale of a mother turning into a cuckoo because her children would not give her a helping hand)
In all honesty they probably told him those stories to try and scare him into behaving - well now he's just a huge horror fan
Sakha has told many of these same spooky stories to Dolgan when she was younger
Speaking of Dolgan - whilst she's grateful for the hand Sakha had in raising her, she wants her own identity outside of him. Often Dolgan people are just labelled as being Sakha
Really good friends with Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan because they are #Turkic but also because they like sharing their films/writing together - they screen each other's films in cinemas and in Kazakhstan, operas based on the Sakha "Olonkho" myth are being held.
Writers from Kazakhstan and Sakha signed a co operation agreement, and in Kyrgyzstan there is a monument dedicated to the Sakha politician and writer Maxim Kirovich
However - despite their love of sharing each other's writing, Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan are quite surprised at how often Sakha's stories end in death !
Kazakhstan often jokes to Sakha that he should become independent
I definitely think these three share a groupchat together
He has an inside joke with Buryatia about the both of them being Japanese or secretly being Japanese. This is because both Sakha and Buryat intelligentsia were accused of being spies for the Japanese Empire (by Russia) at the time
Needless to say, Japan is definitely shooting them questionable looks when he overhears them make that joke
I think these days he has a bit of friendly competition with Buryatia over who is the most popular/more relevant group in Siberia
Really likes rap music !!
His relationship with Mongolia is very funny - in Sakha there is something of a myth that the most powerful faction of Genghis Khan's army was comprised of Sakha soldiers.
In reality, Sakha was most likely a child during this time and the Sakha people were most definitely not a part of the Mongol army
I think Sakha and Mongolia are friendly but Sakha has a little bit of a fascination with Mongolia. There are Sakha artists such as Afanasy Osipov who paints scenes of Mongols, and there is a film called "The secret of Genghis Khan", and apparently the Republic of Sakha was the initiator of the filming process ?
Very big into wrestling - in fact he enjoys challenging Mongolia even if Mongolia doesn't really reciprocate. He doesn't care that Mongolia is technically an elder to him, he'll do it regardless !
He is good friends with Chechnya because of their shared love of wrestling
Good relationship with both North and South Korea, though these days he's closer to South Korea
A lot of North Koreans were sent to Sakha under the USSR and mined gold , with some staying to teach farming to the Sakha
There is a Sakha-Korean school in Sakha and there are people in Sakha who refer to themselves as being "Sakha-Koreans" - presumably from the North Koreans who were sent to Sakha
South Korea indulges Sakha on his love for films. There was an exhibition of Sakha films that were held in South Korea, and South Korea was the first to make an article about Sakha films
For a while, there were even direct flights from Yakutsk to a city in South Korea !
Sad that his films aren't really taken seriously on a more global scale :(
I'd say he's also good friends with Tuva as similar to Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan - both are Turkic and Sakha likes talking to people he relates to, especially as Siberia doesn't really have many Turkic groups
#hetalia#hetalia world series#hetalia world stars#hetalia world twinkle#Aph Sakha#Hws Sakha#Hetalia Sakha#Aph Yakutia#Hws Yakutia#Aph Kazakhstan#Hws Kazakhstan#Aph Kyrgyzstan#Hws Kyrgyzstan#aph south korea#Hws south Korea#Hws North Korea#Aph Mongolia#Hws Mongolia#Hws Korea#Hws Chechnya#Aph Dolgan#Hws Dolgan#Aph Buryatia#Hws Buryatia#Aph Siberia#Hetalia Siberia#Hws Siberia#Hws Tuva#Hws Yukaghir#Hws Evenk
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Alright, a continuation of Bayverse Autobots dealing with a rogue human carrier due to the absolute fuckery (as in the noncon body modification and unethical human experimentation) from Sector Seven.
(Needless to say, Optimus makes a good impression. The rest of them? Not so much...)
You’re not exactly sure how to feel about your life at the moment. Just one major upheaval after another. It feels more from like a supernatural or superhero action movie with the subplot of a shadow government agency making people disappear Just Because insert-whatever-plot-revalent-reason-of-ultimate-power…
In the end, there’s no secret order or great prophecy or hidden school with a twinkling headmaster too full of secrets and too much regrets. Just a human that managed to escape on sheer dumb luck that’s trying lay down low and not get caught.
The accelerated healing seems to either cure your terminal illness or keep it in check, but you’re no Deadpool. Jumping from one fourth-story window is one time too many, and not a thing you wish to repeat if it can be avoided.
Now your life is veering into another direction. A sci-fi one.
One with aliens.
Giant metal titans that can transform in vehicles and what not.
What not also includes the ability to project a physical avatar which is sitting across from you right now as you’re wolfing down the fourth Grand Slam plate. Leo Cullen, the alias, is still nursing his hot chocolate, the lumberjack slam barely touched; whereas Optimus, the real man… mecha, alien, is parked outside.
A boot taps your shoe, you look up to see him smile, dimpled and a bit crooked, as he pushes his plate forward and quickly switches it with your empty one.
You’ve gotten used to the constant low buzz at the back of your neck, but the sudden jolt that sears your spine is a different story.
You stop eating. Fork down and napkin up as you pay attention to the direction.
“Something wrong?”
“I think it’s an eyelash.” The lie comes easily. After all, you and him are both hiding in plain sight for similar reasons. “Hold on.”
The angle of the compact mirror catches a couple half-asleep at their table, and behind them, an older man with greying red hair with glasses. He’s staring at you and a flare lights your nerves on fire.
The table rattles as you push up, the smile feels like a grimace as you say you’re going to the toilet.
The restroom is single users and it suits your needs perfectly. In the reflection, a wan face stares back at you; still thin and sharp from the weight loss and stress still etched on your features. Recovery is an absolute bitch and being on the run gives it a caustic tongue.
Splashing water over your face does little to settle your newfound sparky nerves, and you’re finishing up when there’s a loud click of the door unlocking without your damn permission and it swings open to-
“There you are!”
The face and body is different, softer with floral wear but the same greying red hair and glasses. You hold your breath and let the static build in your gut. There’s a distant thought that’s amazed by the aliens’ adaptiveness. To have different forms at a blink of an eye? What a skill to have…
They’re saying something but it doesn’t matter. All you need is for them to come closer. Closer.
Cold porcelain digs into your lower back as you wait for the door to finally settle, and finally-
You have no idea who’s more surprised when they disintegrate in an electric rain as you dig your hands into them. The gold chains and rings around your palms and fingers aren’t to just look pretty.
The dryer sputters in a slow death and soap dispenser sparks, drooling out all of its contents. Only the toilet and sink escaped due to the lack of sensors. Lucky them that you’re getting better at that trick. You once shorted out half a block -signs, posts, and even the cars, nothing was left unaffected- to escape in the dark streets.
It does leave you off-kilter: bodily disconnected, yet hyper-aware of all the running currents.
Leo’s outside the door, and you force your shaking, wet hands to smooth out the static in your hair, patting them dry with your clothes. (A small, distant part of yourself jokes about matching Leo’s greying side streaks should you ever return to your original hair.)
There’s concern on his face and he says something but you honestly want to go back to bed. Just sleep it off for awhile.
He pulls you close and hot air hits your wet face. Sun beating overhead and you drag your feet to disperse the extra charge, teeth hurting whenever a radio is changed.
Leo makes no comment when you kick up dust, but he hum in a strange singsong and unrecognizable tune that bleeds out the itch under your skin.
Besides the weirdly green ambulance in the far corner, there’s a hummer and a sports car nearby giving you the same sharp sense of jittery awareness. And unlike the ambulance who’s avatar you knocked out, those two weren’t muted and had their attention on you.
Static numbs your clenched fingers and your spine buzzes as you and Leo pass them. You're tense. Absolutely ready to bolt away, and if it wasn't for the arm around your shoulders and the calming presence exuded by Leo, you're pretty sure you would have taken your chances to run into traffic.
The lizard part of your brain is still screaming to try: Don’t turn your back!
A bizarre sensation of cool water slides down your neck and you shiver as it spreads down your back, like a huge icy-hot pack and a massage as it rolls and digs into your muscles, unknotting them, playfully tapping each individual knobs of your spine.
It’s enough to shove the overwhelming urge to run to back of your head. Enough to realize that you need to breathe and had a death grip on Leo’s clothes. Leather and flannel twisted in your hands, straining the materials even.
In a way, you’re operating on a cross between autopilot and hyperviligance. You know that the Leo/Optimus hybrid is physically guiding you back to him, but your entire focus is tracking the other not-cars. Too many, persists the lizard, what’s stopping them?
You’re suddenly back inside the cab, seatbelts curling and sliding back to its proper place.
Your life is turning upside-down again, but all you do is stumble to the bed in the back. Too strung out by everything to speak. The mattress shifts and bury your face into the eerily smooth skin of a neck and inhale the mix of tires, metal, and fire. He pulls you over to rest right on top of him and you follow it, soaking his body heat and matching his slow rise of his chest.
Optimus hums, the pitch low, and you realize it’s his whole frame, not just the avatar, that’s gently vibrating in a strangely soothing noise that slowly eases away the harsh tension in your back and unclenches your belly, limbs relaxing as you cling to the other body and broad hands, warm and sure, are resting on your lower back, heat sinking into the sore muscles.
Hunger still nips at your senses, but it’s the exhaustion that drags you down.
The noise drowns out the sharp awareness that’s outside, and somewhere between the easy, slow strokes across your lower back and rocking motions of the drive, you fall asleep.
You’re vaguely aware you’re purring back.
_________________
:: Congratulations, Prime, we have a feral carrier in our grasp now. ::
#transformers#transformers bayverse#bayverse#optimus prime#optimus#reader insert#pregnancy#bitlets#sparklings#ratchet#maccadam#My writing#Hey you don't know you're preggers#The Autobots do#This is not gonna be a fun conversation#At least they now understand how sector 7 couldn't nab you#All Primes have pregnancy kink#feral human carrier au
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All these characters are from an RPG campaign called; Gehenna's Gates, set in the world of Vampire The Masquerade. Feel free to ask any questions!
Danya Vetranov & Jonah:
Danya met Jonah as the owner of Elysium, thinking of him as just an eccentric person, with his head in the clouds and a fixation on whales. So, in her innocence, she had befriended him, treating him a bit like the child he seemed to be, and on the other side the ancient vampire didn't seem to mind. After many gifts of whales of all kinds and sizes, they became like siblings, but neither was truly aware of the other's abilities.
Danya had a rude awakening when she discovered that behind the figure of the Mother, the True Black Hand, the death of hundreds of Malkavians was actually Jonah's doing. Jonah, who was nothing more than the projection of the desire of an old madman to exterminate every single vampire on the face of the earth. Born with hatred for his own kind and himself, restrained only by the love of the people around him.
When the altars were discovered, Jonah's behavior became more erratic and unsettling, leading Danya to accidentally summon Lucifer, unleashing a fight that nearly killed Jonah. After this betrayal, the Malkavian took away from the entire coterie the “Gifts” he had granted. It meant he had implemented a discipline on them and their loved ones that nullified the curses of their clans, bringing everyone a bit closer to the beast.
Jonah retreated into the labyrinth after the injury and was declared an enemy of the coterie. But Danya couldn't let it end like that; she wanted to find that good part of him and bring her brother back home. And so, she wrote him a letter:
“Dear Jonah,
I hope this letter finds you somehow, even though I still don't know how to deliver it to you.
Well, if you are reading it somehow, I managed.
I'm not sure what I'm trying to accomplish, I know I don't want to blame you or justify my behavior; I don't think it would do much good. Perhaps I just want to offer you some of my truth in exchange for what you've given us. It's possible that you don't care and will tear up this letter as soon as you read my words, but if you decide to continue, I hope you can find something in it. Anything. Forgive me; I am far from being a writer, so be lenient with my grammatical errors and my inelegant style.
You know many things about me — when I was born, where, who my father was, and even the name of a mother who is totally unknown to me.
I wonder if you know other things.
Like the winter in Kiev, the snow knee-deep, having to make our way through the cold with old and worn-out clothes that no longer kept the chill at bay. Staying inside a worn-out tent, trying to get warm with a semi-functional stove and hoping the warmth allows you to open your eyes the next day. On those winter nights, with the punishing snow falling on the city, it was impossible to wander around begging or robbing passersby.
So, we were forced to stay in the tent, close together, trying to warm ourselves as much as possible, with the little food we managed to get from the soup kitchen.
It was during those winter nights that my father taught me to read. Sipping his usual whiskey and holding me on his lap while flipping through the children's book he had stolen for me from a flea market. He pointed out the words and made me read them over and over, then moved on to whole sentences, then the small paragraphs of the illustrated book, until I could read it aloud on my own. He even had me mark the letters and words in the blank parts of the book, so I also learned to write.
In the package accompanying this letter, you will find a copy of that same book. I only found out recently that it was a rather renowned children's book. "The Giving Tree."
When he finally managed to reveal the meaning of the graphic signs accompanied by simple drawings, I was quite disturbed.
It was a rather tragic story to learn to read, and I found myself practically reciting it by heart.
I'm sorry it's not an important, ancient, unique book, written in a nonexistent language and containing the secrets of the world. It's just a simple children's book with a sad ending that taught me to read.
For you, perhaps, it won't mean anything. You have read so much, studied so long, and know much more than can be known in ten lifetimes.
But for me, it was the only source of culture in my life for a long time, and one of the few ways to reflect on the world. Even if I might not even be able to tell you what this book is trying to teach, maybe nothing, maybe just that not all stories need to have a happy ending.
Sometimes I think that maybe we won't have one either, no matter how hard we try or how good our intentions may be...
But in the end, what will remain, and what no apocalypse can take away, not even the apocalypse itself, are the bonds we have created and the people we have touched with our being.
When that day you spoke about how you felt, that anguishing sensation of sinking into the cold abyss of the ocean, I felt closer to you than ever.
You touched me deeply.
It might seem strange to you that someone like me, who doesn't share a fraction of the burden you carry, can even understand what you feel...
But at that moment, I knew exactly what you were talking about.
That feeling of helplessness, the constant and futile effort to stay afloat, only to see the surface getting farther away, and the light becoming dimmer and more scattered.
The darkness of the sea claiming you, and immense beasts ready to devour you, oblivious to your dreams and hopes.
I feel that way almost every day, sometimes more, sometimes less, even in times when we've been at peace. I was aware that a small wave could destroy my sandcastle.
Or a big whale could devour me and take me into eternal darkness.
You will find a second book in the box, "The Adventures of Pinocchio"; surely, you know it.
It's a book I read when I was still in the circus.
My sire had the habit of picking up everything the audience forgot inside the fair, keeping the valuable things for himself and sharing the rest.
But I must say that for me, he always kept the most useful or cute objects, "fit for a young lady," as he jokingly said.
I read it slowly but with great attention; at the time, I found it hilarious and grew fond of it. Unfortunately, my copy burned away with my circus, and like it, all I have left is the memory and nothing more.
I will candidly admit that this book makes me think of you in a much more polymorphic way than you might imagine.
Sometimes, I have felt like the puppet of the story, naive, careless, teased, and manipulated by creatures much bigger than him. In those moments, I thought of you as a strange but wise-talking Jiminy Cricket wanting to show me the right way.
At times, I thought of you as Pinocchio, so eager to become something different from yourself. Perhaps a bit arrogantly, I hoped to be the Blue Fairy helping you reach your dream.
But recently, I must admit I have felt more like the puppet who never learns from his mistakes, and you as the whale about to devour me.
But despite the fear, frustration, my inability to understand the reasons behind all this, and at the risk of being entirely devoured, I don't like the idea of you being alone in that dark maze.
I don't like leaving you to sink without even trying to throw you a lifeline.
In the box, you will find an MP3 in which I had Mr. Frost record a melody for you. Please listen to it when you feel particularly bad; it should help, or at least I hope so.
I don't want to ask you for anything or beg you to put things back the way they were; I don't think it would lead to anything. I'm not even sure others would agree.
The only thing I hope is that you can see some goodness in my actions, as I see in yours.
It wasn't our intention, but we hurt you, and for that, I am sorry, for whatever my shaky words are worth on this paper.
I close this letter, hoping it keeps you company along with the things I've given you.
I will always be your sister, Jonah. Remember that.
With love,
Danya”
That letter convinced Jonah to return to Danya, at least to see what she wanted to accomplish. Despite his initial reluctance, tension, and the fear she felt, he eventually gave in. No vampire so young had ever shown him so much courage, after all he could have obliterated her mind with just a thought. Embracing her, he apologized for his behavior, and between them, there was nothing left to hide. If he wanted to destroy vampires, she would do everything to stop him, and they both accepted it. Since then, the peculiar Malkavian has settled in Danya's home, seeking in her the serenity and carefreeness he had never had. Meanwhile the Ravnos, besides keeping an eye on him, desired to recreate that extended family she missed so much from the circus.
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There is barely any fanfics about the bandits from project nexus, which is a shame because I adore them, so I made one myself!
Reminder that all of my stories’s readers are gender neutral unless specifically stated,, same goes to this one! Hope you like it!
Cw: Violence, food burn 😔
SHARING IS CARING!
(Bandit x Reader)
You tried your best to succeed in life, it was hard. Slaving away at your customer service job, fighting rowdy clients, long walks through the dark streets to your tiny run down apartment. Without counting the randos that try to take over your home, those you had to fight to the death for the right to it. It’s not like your landlord cared if someone killed you and took over your living space (if they payed rent), that was how you got your apartment in the first place and it will be yours until some bastard manages to get lucky. It was hard, but you were strong, you were still standing and you did not intend to get less tougher. You were still a softie tho, all tough guys have a soft side. And this soft side was what brought you to this situation.
He was looking up at you with bright eyes, you stood tall and imposing. You won another fight, you got him on his back. This bandit jumped on you on your way home, most likely due to the bag of mini hotdogs you got from your work on the convenience store. Looking down at him, his dazed expression send a pang to your heart. He was fighting for food just like you were. You knew bandits, it was not your first encounter with one of them, they were hungry folk like everyone else but it’s significantly harder of them being able to get a job to get money for food, their communication skills were not great (most being non verbal) and employers had preference towards stronger grunts, which they were not. That also made it harder for them to fight for food when they were alone. Life was entirely harder for these guys. You sighed and threw the bag of hotdogs towards them, you could go one day without dinner.
“Enjoy it, next time I wont be as merciful..”
You left, walking on the dark sidewalks. The man on the floor trembly got their hands on the bag, sitting up to look at the contents inside it, the smell of food hit him, actual food, he might as well cry. The bandit immediately dug into it, wolfing down the hotdogs like it would be his last meal. That person beat him up and still gave him the price, he was astonished. Sharing was rare for bandits, everyone only knew how to take care for themselves and never think of someone else. When a bandit SHARES with another one, it was a sign of great trust and affection towards them. No one ever shared with him, and he never shared with anyone. But now their head was spinning. A strong grunt just shared, GAVE him all of their food. The bandit was blushing thinking about it, this grunt really knew how to fight, it was so impressive, they looked so cool during battle. His heart was melting, he didn’t knew what was happening, he wanted that grunt close, he wanted to share with them.
About three days later, when your shift ended, you came across that same bandit. You immediately got defensive at the man, but he simply handed you a piece of candy wrapper. He looked at you expectantly, almost bashful, seeming more and more excited as your hand got closer to his. You didn’t know if it was a trap, but when you rapidly took the wrapper away from him, the bandit beamed and ran away with his hands covering his mask cheeks. You were definitely confused, was this a gift? You didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so you kept it on your bedroom’s shelf. The same happened on the day after, he gave you a tomato sauce can and ran away. You washed it before putting on the shelf. The next day he gave you a crumpled coffee stained document, again to the shelf. It kept going until it came down on you that he was sharing you his food. You face palmed so hard to not have come to the realization sooner, you couldn’t believe it. Looking at your ceiling, you took a deep breath as you held your teddy tighter, you could regret everything you are about to make, but hopefully it would be worth it.
On the next night, the bandit was about to hand you a glass shard before you spoke.
“Look don’t, I- look you don’t have to. Just.. follow me please.”
You made a motion for him to follow you as you start walking. He jogged right by your side, nervous and curious about what you would show him. Soon you arrived at your apartment complex, passing the sleeping concierge, you were now holding his hand as you two got up the flight of stairs, the bandit was completely overjoyed by the physical contact and just followed through to where you were guiding him. You were not aware of his blissfulness however, upon finally arriving on your floor, you take the keys off your pockets and unlock the door of your apartment. You immediately guide him to your kitchen table before going to close the door, then march right to the fridge. The bandit looks around this new place with big curiosity, was this were you lived? It was noticeably tidier than the place he took shelter in. Your place had a couch, did you sleep in there? Did you have an actual mattress? He had one, they were super proud of finding it, his sleep had never been better. The bandit immediately noticed the smell of cooking meat, quickly getting off the chair and following it to glue themselves behind you, he looks over your shoulder to see you frying two patties on a pan. You jumped upon contact, turning around to face them and gently pushing them away, since they were too close and could get burned by the sizzling grease.
“It’s not over yet wait a bit.”
This didn’t made him go away tho, hovering you hovering the stove through all of the cooking process. When it was done, you shook the burgers from the pan to a plate. The bandit wasted no time and quickly took and brought a burger to their mouth under the mask, which caused on a half eaten patty being dropped back on the plate and the bandit blowing his own mouth while they tried to chew the hot meat inside it. You freaked out, unsure what to do you held their cheeks and told them to spit it out, they refused and successfully gulped down the food as tears streamed down his cheeks to your hands. You decided to go grab some tab water to help with the bandit’s insides. Bringing the glass to his mouth, they take it and tilts to drink it, rapidly. Soon when the glass is empty,
“Hic!”
He got hiccups.
You stay quiet for a bit before bursting out laughing over the absurdity of the situation as your guest continued hiccuping. You brought a stranger home to eat only for a burn freak out and now hiccups. Through sorries you guide the boy again to sit on the table and place the burger plate in font of him, rubbing his back as you continue laughing. You soon take a sit across them, watching him now safely munch on the warm food. You knew he was your problem now. He came in every day for more food and to share his food with you. You had to work extra hours for the new mouth you had been feeding, you also had to eventually eat the trash he has been bringing you every day for his gifts to not go unappreciated, but everything was worth it, this dude had grown on you and you adored him, as much as he adored you.
And that’s it! I hope it wasn’t messy haha! This will definitely have a part two,, I am thinking on giving a name for our Bandit friend! Mosher maybe? I hope everyone here is having a good day, if not,, I hope this story could help! Stay safe everyone 💝
#reader insert#x reader#madness combat x reader#madcom x reader#madness project nexus#fanfic#madness combat project nexus#madness combat bandit
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Trying to get some semblance of a story put together for the Researchers Au because I want to be consistent with what I draw, but I'm not a writer lol, so this is going to be long, it might run on and on, it'll probably be full of typos and errors because I'm also listening to music while typing it up, and more so please be patient >.> Things stil might change but for now I'm mostly satisfied with this.
Researches in the south pole find two creatures trapped in ice, as if they were frozen in the middle of a big fight. Both are cut and thawed out to be studied.
Dr. Mercer is such an important and world-renowned scientist that the (corporation/organization/government/idk) that the team works for lets him do whatever he wants when it comes to the research project. This includes him being the sole person allowed in the labratory containing the first creature's body (Alex).
Dr. Mercer was weirdly obsessed with Desmond, but also really hated him. Didn't think he deserved to be there, just like most of the scientists there, but to the extreme. While studying the creature he comes to theorize some of its abilities, including how it's able to consume and replace any organism, but of course this is just at theory and he needs a ginea (<- how do you spell that) pig.
Dr. Mercer then lures Desmond into the lab and attempts to get the creature to eat him. This backfires. Even while trapped in ice and subsequently the cyropod, the creature was aware of the presences and actions of each person at the station it came into contact with. It kind of liked Desmond and it was aware of what Dr. Mercer was trying to do. So it ate him instead. Easy.
Desmond obviously sees this, tries to tell the others but is not believed when "Dr. Mercer" appears behind him looking just fine and clearly not eaten. The real Dr. Mercer had never shared his theories with anyone, so no one suspected a thing.
Once everything is settled (for the night), Desmond goes to bed and the creature disguised as Dr. Mercer (Alex) goes to find the creature #2 to finish what they started however many thousands of years ago, but it's gone. No where to be seen. He thinks maybe it took advantage of the chaos Desmond caused running down the station's hallways screaming about Dr.Mercer's death. He swears and leaves the room.
For the next week Alex takes advantage of Dr.Mercer's refusal to allow anyone into the lab, pretending to hole up in there studying while actually crawling around through vents and pipes trying to find signs of the other creature so that he can take them down. Instead all he manages to do is give Desmond 20+ heart attacks a day and once again every time Desmond tries to tell someone he just saw something, he's brushed off, but at the same time some are worried. They think the isolation is getting to him, the way it did to his predecessor, Clay. They ask Alex to keep any eye on him because they've "noticed" the two getting closer recently anyways, but Alex was already watching him due to other reasons: already being 100% Desmond is a human since they were in the same room together when everything went down (or at the very least, that his locations can be checked and verified in some way or another the day of) (Thank you @teecupangel for that!)
At the start of the second week (as in week 2 since Dr. Mercer was eaten), one of the many sled dogs go missing. Desmond is distraught and some of the others at the station go from worried for him to scared of him. There's talk of sending him home or possibly getting him into some trouble. He's reprimanded and sent on his way. It's after this that him and Alex really do start to become a little close. There's still some odd behaviors from him here and there that weird Desmond out (stuff that Desmond would've easily connected to Alex being one of the creatures had the rest of the station not already convinced him he's being paranoid/crazy/needs help/etc.).
At the start of the third week, another dog goes missing. Desmond is once again pulled aside but this time with the promise that soon he will be returning home. He's either 1) incompetent and can't take care of them properly or 2) doing something to them and it's scaring the other station members (alongside his other recent actions). He finally goes to confront Alex about everything, because he knows that Alex knows something. Alex finally admits to being creature #1 and answers every question Desmond throws at him. He also admits he needs help finding creature #2 and Desmond is probably the only one who's able; Alex stating that he's noticed Desmond's abnormally keen senses for a human (or maybe that he might have a 6th sense altogether) and his knowledge of their environment and survival skills (thank you @twitcherpated-replies) would go a long way. Desmond says he wouldn't be able to because he leaves at the start of week 4. Alex says by then it might be too late. Creatures like them get stronger the more they eat, and the fresher the food they eat is. Alex being the good creature he is has been eating normal human food, and while it doesn't do much, it keeps him sustained. After some talking, Desmond of course agrees to help. They share whatever information they have with each other, anything and everything (turns out Desmond has way more information than Alex does because like he said, Desmond has something of a 6th sense and has noticed more wrong at the station than he's let on to others), and come up with a list of suspects that creature #2 could be: Daniel Cross, Elizabeth Greene, Lucy Stillman, etc. (thank you again @teecupangel for that one)
While carefully observing their suspects, Desmond questions how they're going to stop creature #2 if it's stronger than Alex. Alex brings up a drug Dr. Mercer had created called bloodtox, one that he was going to use on Alex had things actually gone according to his plans and Alex had eaten Desmond. They have three viles. Alex has one, Desmond has another and the last is back in the lab.
Finally, the day before Desmond is set to leave, they confront their #1 suspect, Lucy. While doing this, they're stopped by creature #2 revealing itself and the fact that it was just sticking close to Lucy because she was a really good scapegoat for them. A big fight ensues.
Alex's syringe is broken in the fight against creature #2. Desmond's syringe is broken while luring creature #2 away from Alex's unconcious body, letting himself get chased down multiple hallways and even thrown around a little. Rebecca runs into a security room and puts the building on lockdown (think of the doors closing in among us lolol), momentarily cutting creature #2 in half long enough for Desmond to get up and run and hide (2 doors closed in on it). The entire time it tries to go through the station, Rebecca is slamming doors in its face or turning on something or another to slow it down. It finally gets fed up, stares into the nearest camera at her, and flings itself into a vent. Desmond realizes creature #2 is no longer after him but after her and goes to stop it. Lucy and Shaun are left to find the last syringe. After some debate between each other they take the bloodtox out of the syringe because clearly these things aren't working. They find an empty spray bottle and decide that it'll just have to do. Desmond gets to the security room just in time to save Rebecca and Alex gets there just in time to save the both of them, but creature #2 is still stronger and the presence of Rebecca and Desmond is a little bit of a hinderance. Finally Shaun and Lucy show up and just start spraying creature #2. It's working, it's getting weaker and weaker. It tries to swat the spray bottle out of their hands but unlike the syringes, it can't shatter on impact with the ground or wall, so Alex just picks it right back up and keeps spraying them.
Finally the fight is over, Alex wins and consumes creature #2, to the horror of everyone but Desmond.
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How do you interpret the unkiss? Some say Sansa is in love with Sandor, others say she’s just coping with trauma, I think is a little bit of both tbh
It’s definitely several things. I think she longs for a romantic and emotional connection, and the Hound is a nice one on paper, in that he’s strong and can protect her and doesn’t care for the King. she compares herself to naerys and joffrey to aegon the unworthy, and wanted someone, anyone, to be her aemon the dragon knight. so the same way she overlooks dontos’ many flaws and warnings signs because she wants so badly to believe she’s going to get out of this mess and he will be her florian and she his jonquil, i think she does hope that sandor will be some sort of aemon and protect her from joffrey (even though, funny enough, aemon did fairly little to protect naerys from aegon so Sandor isn’t that far off, lmao!). not only that, but sandor all but says that to her.
I doubt he made the Aemon/Naerys/Aegon connection but he has made some sort of “princess needs a warrior to protect her from the king” sort of connection. Maybe he makes a Toyne-Bethany Bracken connection though, which is much closer to their actual dynamic (and I have kinda suspected the Bethany-Brothers Toyne thing is there at least in part to give us another Soiled Knight/Damsel story to echo here), which is why he tries (and fails) to escape KL with her. He can’t keep her safe in the capital but if they run away, he’s the baddest guy around and he can be her savior.
i don’t think sandor is doing this to purposefully manipulate her. i think his thoughts and feelings are sincere bc sansa reminds sandor of himself and his sister, and joffrey as akin to gregor. i think that’s why sandor is a little less loyal as the books go on - it’s easy to rationalize away joffrey’s behavior when he doesn’t care about the victims but all of a sudden when joffrey’s hair trigger temper is being taken out on two girls who remind him of himself and his sister, then, it’s too much to take, too much to think about his own role in enabling joffrey when sandor rages so much against those that enabled gregor.
but also - she’s a 12 year old hostage and this dude twice her age is heavy projecting onto her, and he’s the only person here who has ever even given a milqtoast defense of her, and he’s mean and scary looking and violent, and she doesn’t have much recourse if he decides to hurt her. she has very little power here, and sandor is incredibly erratic and not capable of taking care of her because he’s got a lot of demons to work through, up to and including his own sexualization of a barely pubescent little girl. This is simultaneously the only interpersonal relationship either has had in a long time that isn’t transactional and allows them to cope with trauma, a person who has seen and understands the worst days of their lives - and yet they know nothing about each other at all really! I think it’s a fascinating and moving take on courtly love and chivalric romance, but because it’s meant to analyze a lot of the social aspects of both their positions, it is in my opinion important to not lose sight of the fact that both of them are doing some heavy projecting here & are not in a frame of mind to actually heal or protect each other at all.
#asks#anons#i can’t tag this in any tag bc i’ll get hate mail people are so serious about this couple no matter what side they come down on#i’ll retag later#true knights#knighthood and oath keeping
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