#I blocked him a long time ago dw

[heartshattering]

I wish I could finish the writing I have due for work but like :')

I did so well yesterday during the daytime and then at night that's when the anxiety had to get me again? I had a semi good day today and then I got distracted 'cause my mom needed my help but even before that I'd been feeling off again so I can't blame it all on her...

[reel-fear]

MIKE BLOCKED ME ON TWITTER FOR ROASTING HIS DUMBASS RESPONSE TO THE GRAPHIC NOVEL STUFF!!

grown ass man scared of the 19-year-old queer being mean to him over his public meltdown more at 8.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |2|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Alamort

Summary: You've been struggling to sleep the past few weeks, a late friend of yours not leaving your mind, and on top of that you get stuck with Tara for a group project

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of death, grief, and underage drinking

Notes: Was able to put some Sam appreciation in this chapter cause I love her sm, also I would like to clarify that in this au ghostface will not be making a return so dw worry about our girl Anika

Masterlist|Previous Part|Next part

After a long day of work and school, you were absolutely exhausted. You needed to change before you passed out on the floor. Once you were clad in your pajamas, you collapsed onto your bed, practically melting at the feeling of your pillow against your face. You fell asleep moments later, but it was nothing to enjoy.

Your right leg bounced as you impatiently stared at your phone. You were biting your nails to the bone when your younger brother let out an aggravated huff. “Staring at your phone isn’t doing anything. You’re just making the wait feel longer,” he told you as he took the seat beside you.

You anxiously rubbed your hand up and down your thigh. “He said he’d call as soon as he took care of everything. That was fuckin' forever ago!” you snapped, getting up from where you sat. You knew what this possibly meant, but couldn’t bear to say it. 

“Fighting a serial killer isn’t a five minute type of thing. I’m sure he’s fine,” you brother tried to reassure you, but you were already pacing back and forth as terrible things flooded your mind. 

Just earlier, Dewey called you and explained he was headed to the hospital to handle a Ghostface issue. He also said that if he got back, the first thing he would do is call you. If? Surely he knew you were smart enough to detect that ‘if’ he snuck in. The whole way over to the hospital, he talked to you and your little brother over the phone. The whole conversation gave a gnawing feeling in your stomach. It sounded like he was saying his last goodbyes. You didn’t even have a chance to reply when he told you, “I love you, kid,” before he hung up the phone.

You were planning on going to the hospital yourself. No way was that going to be the last words Dewey would tell you, not if you could do anything about it. Especially not after the way you left things. But your brother refused, blocking the door off when you got up to leave. He didn’t want you going down the same path family have gone down in the past. 

You found out an hour later. You froze for a good minute when you heard the first responder speak. A part of you knew what was in store when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. After snapping out of it, you looked at your brother—there was no time for wallowing. You grabbed him and rushed down to the hospital. You thought you were numb before, but you had no idea what numbness was until you saw Dewey’s lifeless, blood stained, body being covered by a black tarp. 

I should’ve been there… I should’ve been there…

From the corner of your eye, you saw how your brother's eyes never pulled from the tarp that covered Dewey before he broke out into sobs. You immediately wrapped an arm around him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

As numbness enveloped you, you thought back to just an hour ago; Dewey was being gutted in cold blood while you were safe and sound in his trailer. 

You should have been there.

You jolted awake, your head was throbbing, and you were drenched in sweat. You quickly sat up, your breathing rapid, while you rubbed your eyes. Your eyes then frantically looked around your dark surroundings; you were no longer in Woodsboro. You were in New York, inside your apartment, sitting on your bed. 

Damnit. 

You have been having the same dream—well, nightmare, for the last few weeks. It was the same one you had even months after Dewey passed, but they weren’t as consistent come June. At least, that’s what you thought. Your mind was refusing to let you forget that wretched day, the day you just sat around as the man you looked up to as a father was taken from you.

—

You were drained. As a result of being met with the same horrible memory each night for the past couple weeks, you were getting at most two hours of sleep a night. As the anniversary of Dewey’s death inched closer, your nightmares worsened. 

Now it was 5 a.m, and there was still much time to pass before class began. You showered to wash off all the sweat from tossing and turning, and by the time you finished getting ready, it was only 6 a.m. You spent the rest of your morning watching sitcoms while enjoying a bowl of cereal at the front of the television.

You eventually left, off to your first class of the day. You loved history class, but unfortunately, your desk mate didn’t take the class as seriously. 

No matter how many seats were vacant that day, Tara always chose to sit beside you. You knew she was doing it solely to piss you off. The other day you fell asleep during class and woke up with your shoelaces tied together. If you weren’t so tired, you would have countered with something like you would have in high school. You nearly smiled while thinking back to the pranks you pulled on each other.

Once you arrived at class, you sat down and immediately put your head down. You would have fallen asleep right then and there if it wasn’t for the loud thud by your head. You looked and saw that Tara slammed down one of her books before sitting down. 

The action made you lift your head while you rubbed your eyes. “And a good morning to you, Carpenter,” you said in a tired, yet sarcastic, voice. You were still rubbing your eyes, maybe you could rub away the exhaustion.

“You look like shit,” she remarked while putting down her bag.

“Hm? I zoned out—the stripes on that shirt are blinding.”

The rest of the class went on like that; Tara making comments and you returning them. It really wasn’t so different from Woodsboro, always picking fights and at each other’s throats. But if you had to be honest with yourself, you didn’t mind the distraction. It was nice. Tara Carpenter was good for something, not that you would ever tell her that. At least not without making her work for it. 

As you were writing something down, a crumpled up piece of paper hit the side of your face. You glanced over to scowl at Tara before opening up the paper.  

I need to copy your notes, read the note. This made you roll your eyes before looking at Tara again. She was looking up ahead, seemingly ignoring you. You looked back down at the paper, writing your reply. You threw it back to her before returning to your notebook.

Why can’t you just write them yourself? 

Tara exhaled with annoyance as she aggressively wrote again on the paper and chucked it at you. It hit your forehead, causing you to grumble as you read over the paper.

he talks way too fast I can barely understand what he’s saying!!!

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Your sleep deprivation was beginning to catch up. 

“After class,” you mumbled in defeat.

Tara smiled as she looked back ahead, but her victory was short lived as she started drowning in her own thoughts. 

Giving up so easily wasn’t like you at all, you usually gave up more of a fight. She had noticed your drained expression when she walked in… but she decided not to dwell on it. This was you after all. She has already established countless times how hard you are to read. 

Just enjoy the win, she told herself.

—

After you got through all your classes, you made it back to your apartment in one piece. You felt your eyelids grow heavier as you fumbled for your keys. You eventually inserted your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, barely feeling your legs as you walked inside with a foggy brain. You nearly knocked over a lamp on your way in. Anika was quick to notice this and rushed over to you.

“When was the last time you slept?”

You mumbled something she didn’t pick up before landing on the couch. You let out a long sigh, putting your hand over your eyes to block out the light directly above you. 

“This micro-sleeping crap you’ve been doing is clearly shit,” she said as she put a couple pillows behind you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured the blatant lie. 

She ignored this. “I’m gonna heat up some chicken soup,” she told you before going off to the kitchen. Anika has noticed how you have been growing more and more tired the last couple weeks. She was worried about her roommate but also knew you were too stubborn to ask or accept help. 

A few minutes later, Anika returned with a steaming bowl and some toast. Instead of sitting up and accepting the food she made you, you only whined. Anika narrowed her eyes at you before tossing a piece of toast at you. The glare you sent her didn’t faze her as she pushed the coffee table closer to you.

“You’re eating. No complaints. You can’t just live off of cereal and ramen.”

You reluctantly picked up the toast that hit your face, taking a tiny bite. “Whatever,” you mumbled between chewing. 

Anika just rolled her eyes and brought you a water bottle from the fridge, choosing not to argue any further. At least you were eating now.  Once you switched over to the soup, Anika sat down on the seat across from you. “What’s been going on with you? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because it’s obviously something.”

You stared at your soup, swirling the spoon around. “I don’t feel like talking about it,” you answered honestly.

Anika nodded in understanding. “That’s okay—just know that I’m here if you do feel like talking at some point,” she reassured. You subtly nod, still unable to look up from your soup. Anika accepted your response, getting up and walking to her room.

You stayed there for another hour or so, alone with your thoughts. Each one gnawed at you, screaming the same thing over and over again.

You should have been there.

—

It was another day in history class with Tara. She made a face at you for a comment you made, and just as she was about to say something back, the words ‘group project’ left the mouth of your professor. ‘Pair up in twos’ quickly followed. You gave each other a look before looking around and seeing everyone else already pairing away with someone. 

That was the story of how you ended up at the Carpenter-Bailey residence. You tried to approach your professor about working alone but he only shook his head and told you it was not an option. 

You sat down on their couch, your eyes curiously wandering, as you waited for Tara to return from whatever it was she was doing. She finally came back into view and you anxiously scrambled for your backpack. “Finally,” you said.

“Still as patient as ever.” She sat down a couple cushions over.

“Whatever. I just wanna get this over with.”

“Did you just slip the title of your sex tape?” she teased.

You gave her an unimpressed look, about to respond, but the front door to the apartment opening stopped you. You looked over to see Tara’s sister walking in with at least four bags that were full of what you assumed were groceries. 

Sam adjusted the bags in her arms, finally looking up to address her sister. She wasn’t expecting to also see you sitting on the couch; she opened her mouth to say something but the words escaped her when two of the bags slipped from her arms. Without thinking, you get up from your seat to help the other Carpenter. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Tara as she stares at the sight. 

Sam mumbled a ‘thank you’ after you both placed all the bags down on the coffee table.

“No problem,” you quietly said back. Your hands slipped themselves into your pockets. 

Sam cleared her throat as you made the short distance to your previous seat. “Tara, you didn’t tell me you were having someone over,” she said after turning to look at her little sister.

“It was last minute,” she replied. “We have a group project, and unfortunately, I somehow got stuck with her.”

Your head was down as you scribbled in your notebook, but you didn’t let your reserved demeanor stop you from commenting. “Bet you say that about every girl,” you sarcastically murmured. 

“I’d officially introduce you, but I heard you’ve already had the displeasure,” she continued.

“Yeah, we’ve briefly talked before. You can continue your project, but make sure your door stays open if you two move to your room—”

Tara’s eyes widened. “—Okay! Thank you, Sam! It’s—you don’t need to worry about that,” she exclaimed as she blushed.

You were now looking up from your notebook, blinking; your eyes shifted back and forth between the sisters. 

“I still want it open,” Sam insisted through Tara’s flustered demeanor; the older Carpenter had skepticism written on her face. 

“Okay, okay—I got it,” Tara quickly answered.

After finally dropping the topic, Sam left to store away the groceries she brought in. Just seconds later, you found yourself trying to fight an amused expression, leaving you with a downward smile.

“Shut up,” you heard Tara say beside you. 

“Didn’t say anything,” you replied before a chuckle escapes you. 

She elbowed you. “Let’s just start—unless you plan on flirting with my sister anymore,” she added with a bitter tone.

Her comment caught you off guard, etching a lost expression on your face. “What?”

Your clueless attitude only further annoyed her. “I wasn’t born yesterday; obviously you like her. She’s my sister, asshole, that’s so gross.” 

She thought you liked Sam. But why? Sure, you noticed how she was tall, beautiful, had a strong jawline, and her arms—wait, where was this going? Right, you were not romantically attracted to her.

“I don’t like your sister like that,” you told her but she refused to look at you. It seemed she found the pages of her textbook far more interesting.

“Can we just start? You were the one who wanted to get this over with.”

“Whatever.”

You two argued the entire time over ridiculous things while chucking notes at each other as you both would do during class. Tara grew bored after two hours, deciding to make it your problem. You were jotting something down when you heard the dramatic huff she let out. 

“Yes, princess?” you asked, still writing.

“How are you not the least bit tired or bored?” she whined whilst leaning back on the couch. 

You sighed before answering, “I’m always tired, but bored? It’s history. I’m not bored.”

“You always were such a history geek. What was that thing you always said? Learn by making history or something?”

You finally stopped writing, putting down your pencil, exhaling. “‘Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it,’” you quoted with a matter-of-fact tone. You finally looked back at Tara to see the smirk she wore. 

She got just what she wanted.

Tara has always liked seeing you worked up, but specifically when it came to things you were passionate about. There were times she would even purposely miss quote a line from your favorite show or write with horrible grammar just to get a reaction from you.

You would scrunch your eyebrows and get all grumpy, you even wore a subtle frown she always made sure to look out for; you mainly reacted this way because you knew she solely did these things to tick you off. You wore the same expression now as you did then, this thought made Tara smile. 

“I can tell you’re enjoying this,” you state as you turn back to your writing.

“Oh, very much.” As you were turned away from the girl, focusing on whatever is you were writing, Tara stared at your side profile. She looked at the way your eyebrows were still slightly scrunched as you clenched your jaw in concentration.

“You’re not gonna get much done if all you do is stare at me,” you said without looking to meet her gaze.

This caught Tara off guard, causing her to falter a bit as she blinked at you. “Well—well, your face is dumb, and—and I’m going to the kitchen,” she stammered while lifting herself from her seat, nearly tripping over her foot as she did so. “Oh! And I’m not getting you anything,” she made sure to add before you could say anything. 

As she walked away, you called out to her. “That’ll show me!” 

—

It was now 10:30 p.m, you and Tara were almost done with the project. For once, you two agreed on something, and decided to finish it up another time and call it a night. 

You let out a tired sight, closing up your books before putting them in your bag. Sam walked into the living room, noticing you packing, when a thought occurred.

“I just ordered a pizza, and I was wondering if you would like to stay for dinner, Y/N,” she said, catching both you and Tara by surprise.

The unopened bottle of water that has been sitting near you for hours was quickly noted by Sam.

“She’s goo—” Tara began, but you cut her off.

“—Sure. If it’s not a bother to you.”

Oh, this was going to piss Tara off so much.

“Not at all,” Sam answered, ignoring Tara mumbling from her seat.

“Thank you,” you said with a small, but polite, smile.

As soon as Sam walked away, you were hit with a pillow. “Um, ouch?” you complained with sass.

“Cry me a fucking river—you’re just staying to piss me off!” she accused whilst glaring at you.

“Self-absorbed much?” you patronized, feigning an incredulous look.

You two stared at each other, narrowing your eyes at one another. She leaned in before saying, “You are insufferable.”

You let a couple seconds pass before leaning in yourself. Your faces were now just a few inches away as you said, “And you’re infuriating.”  

Then the doorbell rings, Tara shoves you back before running to answer it. Sam came out of her room just as Tara came back in with the box of pizza along with a plastic bag. You timidly followed behind them, arms at your side as you walked, before you sat down.

After five minutes of silence, Sam attempts to make conversation. “So, Y/N,” she began. 

You softly hummed, looking up from your hardly touched slice. 

“How’s college going?” she inquired.

“It’s… going,” you said before awkwardly clearing your throat. “Yeah.” You continued to pick at your slice’s crust.

She nodded, accepting your answer, before continuing. “You and Tara have history together, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Tara said before you could. 

“She’s a peach,” you snarked while giving the younger Carpenter a wry smile. 

Things quickly grew silent again. It was awkward… at least it was for Sam. You and Tara sending each other glares from across the table certainly wasn’t easing the tension. To be honest, Sam didn’t know how to cope. She knew you and Tara hated each other for reasons she still didn’t know, but she also knew you weren’t a terrible person who has been through… a lot. If you truly did something inhumanly horrible to Tara, her little sister wouldn’t keep you in her life. So, Sam knew she had to be the bigger person by being at least decent to you.

Your eyes fell to your watch before you spoke. “I should get going, it’s late,” you said while getting up from your chair, putting down your napkin as you did so. “Thank you so much for dinner, Sam.”

“Of course,” she replied and gave you a courtesy smile 

Tara turned to scold Sam the moment you left their apartment. “What the hell, Sam?!” she whined.

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, as she sighed. “Tara—”

“—You seriously just welcomed the most insufferable person ever to dinner!” she huffed with a pout on her face

Sam rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “You’re such a baby sometimes, Tar,” Sam said before getting up to wrap up the leftovers. 

As she made her trip to the kitchen, this left Tara alone, pouting to herself. “I’m not a baby…” she mumbled to herself, both arms and legs crossed as she slumped in her chair. 

“She’s just an ass.”

—

“Where are you going?” your roommate asked as she watched you search for your keys.

“Out.”

Anika rolled her eyes at your curt response. “Obviously. But where? It’s a Saturday; you should be taking advantage of that, and try to get some sleep,” she told you.

“I’m fine. I had some coffee,” you found your keys on the kitchen counter and grabbed them, “Henry and I are just gonna hang out. You can come, if you want. You know Henry doesn’t mind.”

“No, it’s okay, I’m good. I have plans tonight,” she said. She knew there was no making you budge, no matter what she said. “But if anything happens, call, okay?”

“Mhm, ‘course,” you dismissively answered as you walked out the door.

It was meant to be a chill night with Henry, one that consisted of video games, food and drinks, at least according to Henry. When you walked in, his apartment was packed with bodies. The music was booming, you would be shocked if an eardrum didn’t burst, and everyone was either knocking into someone or something.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Nope! 

With one last shake of your head, you turned around, more than ready to leave, but a pair of hands gently turned you around. You now faced Henry, who could tell you were not at all pleased right now.

“Just hear me out!” he shouted over the booming music.

“How can I with this music blasting?!” You couldn’t even hear yourself think. Ugh, you just wanted to rip your ears off and curl up in a corner. “What happened to it just being us?!”

“Jason’s apartment flooded, I had to take over!” he defended. He saw you were still wearing a pissed off expression. “I’m sorry! This was a last minute thing—but I’ll make it up to you! Promise!”

Henry managed to convince you to stay by bribing you with Super Smash Bros and a quiet room for you to play it in. That’s how you ended up in his room, away from everyone else, as you played on his Nintendo.

You were in the middle of handing Link his ass when the door abruptly opened. You glanced up from your screen and saw Tara flipping someone off before turning to you. “Don’t,” was all she said as she shut the door; she then collapsed on the bed, not far away from your feet.

“Wasn’t gonna,” you said while looking back at the Nintendo.

“Just did,” she said in a muffled tone; she was laying face down.

“Long night already, princess?” you continued, ignoring her request.

She sat and held herself up by her arms. “Why do you care enough to ask?” She narrowed her eyes at you but you just gave her a small shrug before speaking again.

“I don’t… Curious is all.”

She crawled over to sit beside you, her back now leaned against the bed’s headboard. When she started to toy with her fingers, your eyes fell to her hands for a moment; the scar on her left hand didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“What?” she asked with agitation.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, fiddling with the buttons on the Nintendo in a lame attempt to hide your suddenly bashful demeanor.

Tara looked to the side, her face scrunching slightly, as if scolding her herself. “Um… Sam told me about what day’s coming up,” she cautiously began.

Her words made you freeze, your fingers stilling. If there was anyone who wouldn’t bring it up, you thought it would at least be her, that maybe your feud with the Carpenter would come in handy just this once. 

“If you, like, need anything or whatever, you can talk to me about it. I know not a lot of people have experienced what we have,” she said in an uncharacteristically sympathetic voice.

You couldn’t look at her, staring down at the device in your lap. You hated it when people tried to comfort you, when people pitied you in any way, shape or form. You despised feeling like a victim. 

“Can you stop?”

Your question made Tara confused as she furrowed her eyebrows. “Stop what?”

“Stop being so—nice to me. It’s weird, and unnatural. I don’t know how to feel,” you confessed.

“Would you prefer me to verbally harass you? ‘Cause I’ll gladly do so,” she said with seriousness in her voice. Here she was, trying to be remotely nice to you, and you of course had to be you.

“There’s my girl,” you teasingly said. You reached up and pinched her cheek, but she swatted your hand away with a chuckle.

“You’re an idiot,” she said.

“Seriously though, stop with all the cheesiness,” you continued; Tara scoffed at your insistence.

“It’s not my fault emotions make you uncomfortable,” she responded without hesitation. 

Now it was your turn to scoff. “That’s… not entirely true,” you said while slightly shaking your head.

Tara realized this was the most she was going to get out of you when it came to addressing anything she said before. She wasn’t going to get anything direct from you, not even a simple ‘okay,’ and that was fine. Sam told her she should try to talk to you about it, and she did try. 

A pillow flew to your face. “Oh, real mature. Second time in a row,” you remarked before throwing the pillow back to her. “Every time your guard is down while we’re near a pillow? I’ll remember this, Carpenter. I’ll remember this.” 

“I’m shaking in boots,” she joked while shaking her hands.

“You’ll see,” you said as you rose from the bed.

Tara raised her eyebrows. “Where are you going?” she asked.

“Miss me already?” you teased while smirking.

She rolled eyes, pretending to gag. “You couldn’t leave this room soon enough.” 

You now stood at the door. “What would you do without me?” 

“Celebrate.”

“Would that be before or after the mourning period?”

She threw another pillow at you. “Get out!” she yelled; she tried to fight back her laughter. Geez, I’m… tipsy, Tara thought to herself.

“As you wish,” you chuckled before leaving the room.

Tara was now alone with her thoughts; she let out a deep sigh as she laid on the bed. “Idiot…” she murmured to herself. But something just felt… different this time, about her idiot. You were still an asshole, that she had to remind herself. Even if you were undeniably cute.

Oh.

She didn’t know where the last thought came from, but she’ll keep it to herself. It wouldn’t be the first time she had a thought like that about you, but each time she reminded herself of all the things you both have done and said to one another. She still found you insufferable, that was the plain truth. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t noticed you were rather objectively attractive—objectively of course.

There was just too much she hated about you; from your conceited attitude to how much of a control freak you could be, and she hated how you could charm your way out of most situations. It may have been unbearable, but it brought her satisfaction that you couldn’t do that with her. 

You were nothing but an intolerable asshole who has always gotten on her nerves. At least, that’s what she kept repeating to herself as the last few minutes replayed in her head.

—

Monday quickly rolled by—annoyingly quick. When you arrived at class, you sat in your usual spot. You were surprised Tara made it before you but not at all surprised when you saw she was hungover. “Two nights in a row? You rebel,” you teased her; she groaned and rubbed her temples.

“You’re not helping,” she complained, putting her head down with shut eyes.

“Wasn’t trying to,” you said before taking out your notes.

Your professor walked in just a moment later, a booming voice followed him. “Let’s begin!” he exclaimed while letting out a loud clap with his hands.

The sudden loudness caused Tara to jolt with her hands flying to her ears. You laughed a little, earning you a kick to your ankle.

As class went on, you and Tara did your typical routine of shoving each other, making petty comments towards one another, and note passing. When class was over, you got up, closing your books, before making your way to meet Anika for lunch. You only made it a few feet from the classroom when you felt a light tug on the back of your shirt; you turned around and saw Tara looking up at you.

“Yes, princess?” you asked as you looked back at her. She looked pretty cute looking up at you with those big brown eyes of hers. Something you noticed over the years is that she had these puppy dog eyes without even trying. Even when she’s trying to be serious, they can’t help but stay.

“I’m free tomorrow; we can finish the project then,” she told you; she was still looking up at you with those damn eyes of hers.

You nodded. “See you then.”

“No flirting with my sister,” she sternly said with an appointed look.

“No promises,” you joked with a shrug. 

She rolled her eyes. “Ugh, you’re so gross,” she said before shoving past you and walking away.

Note to self, add ‘flirting with Sam’ on the list of things that piss off Tara.

-----------

A/N: If you'd like to get tagged in future chapters, lemme know in the comments!

(EDIT) A/N: truly a trip down memory lane

[captain-joongz]

Abraxas; Act 1, Chapter 2 Part 1

Pairing: mafia boss!Min Yoongi x police office!reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, humour, angst, investigation themes, dark themes, eventual smut, slowburn, some fluff

Chapter summary: As spring time comes, the police station finds itself intensely focused on several cold murder cases linked to the gangs. Amidst this chaos, it's hard to find time for anything else except for grappling with the position in the team and the burning ambition to be accepted, but something lovely might just be awaiting right behind the corner. The complicated relationship with the Min gang continues to get even more muddled.

Chapter word count: 20.8k words

Warnings: discussion of crimes and murders, mentions of violence and gore (nothing too graphic, they're vaguely describing a murder scene), general anxiety? (our girl is NERVOUS in this one), Yoongi almost isn't in this chapter, start of reader x OC, gets suggestive at the end (it's not with Yoongi but he IS endgame, dw), also this chapter might be a bit slower and investigation and exposition heavy

Previous part | Series masterlist | Next part

A/N: in the end i decided to split this chapter into two parts, because i think it might be easier to read in two blocks as oppposed to a 40k words in a single chapter, also because this chapter took me such a long time to write (almost two months) maybe i'll implement it more often to not leave you without an update for too long, but chapters might not be able to come out as quickly as i originally hoped because they take a lot of time to make :(( hope you enjoy this one, the second part will be dropping soon after <3

Spring, first year in the force

I was leisurely scribbling on a parking ticket form, smiling at the curious city-goers and squinting in the spring sun. I had forgotten my sunglasses at the station, since I sprinted out the second I had gotten a text about Yoongi’s whereabouts, so now I was stuck half-blind.

From across the street a man in a café waved at me with a friendly smile and I waved back, satisfied for once. I had met Jake a week ago, when I spent the whole day in his cute little business, watching Jungkook’s car parked by Yoongi’s high-end restaurant. After an awkward conversation about who I was and what I was doing there, I introduced myself as an officer and asked about Yoongi. Jake had let it slip that he often saw that car parked there and I was able to beg him for a little favour. I would leave my number there and he would text me when Yoongi came.

You see, he couldn’t legally park there, but no one cared enough to stake it out and give him tickets. Well… No one but me. Was it petty and very inconsequential for him? Yes. Did I still run over anytime the text landed on my phone? Hell fucking yes.

I had no pride when it came to this, we have long since established that everything was allowed in this war of wit.

Gleefully I ripped the fine from the notepad and with dramatic care put it behind the wipers. Suddenly there was a loud groan behind me and when I turned, lo and behold, Jungkook was making his way towards me, his usually emotionless face coloured with annoyance and pinched into an unfriendly grimace. I gave him self-satisfied smile and patted the ticket.

“Seriously? Again?” he asked without any useless preamble and tore the ticket from the window to look at it closer. His eyes squinted aggressively at it, both against the sun and as he attempted to read my nearly undecipherable scrawl.

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Jeon,” I answered with a shit-eating grin, “If you didn’t continuously park outside of designated areas, I wouldn’t be forced to ticket you so often.” Jungkook gave me a stare that would be enough to kill someone and my grin deepened.

“What I would like to know,” a gruff voice came from behind the young man, and instantly our attention turned to the newcomer, “is how do you always know when our Kookie here parks like a naughty boy? You wouldn’t plant another tracker on us, would you?” Yoongi smiled at me and lazily walked down the stairs from the entrance to the street. I shook off the surprise quickly and put on a faux sweet smile, but I could already feel the beginnings of annoyance bubble within me. Jungkook relaxed and a tiny smirk pulled at his lips, and it was my turn to send him a murderous glare. Little shit probably knew that even if he couldn’t annoy me, Yoongi knew perfectly how to push my buttons until I was boiling with rage.

The whole thing with the tracker has turned into a real pain in the ass for me. Yoongi refused to return it to me and sooner or later someone from the station would come looking for it (especially since I technically acquired it unlawfully cause I didn’t have a warrant, but the officer gave it to me in good faith). I borrowed it under false pretences, citing an official business as the reason and wrote my name onto a form. The tracker was the property of the station, and I would have to return it. But I didn’t have it. Yoongi would always say it’s “keeping the score even since I lost theirs”.  I couldn’t even track it after they disabled it, so I was stuck.

“Unfortunately, the only one I had is still in your possession,” I retorted, mood souring quickly, “It’s not like I’m you, who has access to unlimited amount of illegal bullshit.” Yoongi chuckled and moved slightly closer to me so he could gloat to my face.

“Shouldn’t have lost our one,” he retorted with a smirk and moved to get into the car. I watched him as he plucked the ticket from Jungkook’s hands, gently folded it and put it into his suit pocket with a little wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay it in time.” The younger man was still watching me with slight irritation but didn’t say anything and opened the door for Yoongi.

I couldn’t help myself and squeezed in one last petty remark. “Technically, aren’t you the one who lost the tracker?” I asked him, channelling the most annoying energy towards the two men I could muster, “You are the one who was tracking it.”

Yoongi didn’t reply, only turned around to me over his shoulder, smirked and winked once again. Then he disappeared inside the car. Jungkook slammed the door shut and with one last unfriendly stare he got behind the wheel and drove off. I watched them go, a strange mixture of frustration and self-satisfaction boiling inside of me at the encounter.

After the whole tracker fiasco I felt the dynamic between us shift a little. I couldn’t fully pinpoint what it was, but something felt different in the way Yoongi regarded me. I could also see it in the way Jungkook seemed to dislike me more openly and Taehyung found more enjoyment from teasing all of us.

It was strange, the sudden candour exhibited by him. Whenever I would come along with another officer, Yoongi would behave differently, be snippier and more mysterious. But when I came alone, he would tease and smirk and spin his tales. He never really told me anything concrete, but I could see he enjoyed toying with me like that, dangling the information in front of me just barely out of reach. I didn’t know whether it was because I admitted I wouldn’t share the information right away or because I answered to his antics with full force, but he felt more open in front of me than other detectives, though nothing productive ever came from it anyway. Sometimes it felt like I was just an annoying younger sibling to him, and he dealt with me by provoking and teasing me.

I sighed, watching their car go, and then I swiftly crossed the street to my own car to return to the station. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going, just ran out and ignored their curious glances, and now I would have to deal with that. Minjoon would definitely ask, worried whether I had some emergency. He would ask me if I was okay and if I wanted a cup of coffee from cafeteria while regarding me with his warm brown eyes, and the thought of it was already making me relax a little.

I hadn’t talked to anyone in the station about what I’d been doing around Yoongi, not even to Minjoon who seemed to take pity on me and whenever the man was involved, took me with them (or at least as much as he managed to convince Hwang who really didn’t like me). I didn’t dare to express myself too much in front of Park when he tagged along and for some reason Yoongi went along with my cold shoulder whenever other detectives were around as if we were having a secret affair, but I could always see the glint of amusement in his eyes which made me want to punch him. I had no idea why he indulged me like that, but it definitely wasn’t anything good. Really, I should have seen the fuckery coming from a mile away.

So imagine my surprise when only a few days after the meeting at the restaurant, Yoongi waltzed into our office in the station with Jungkook and Jimin in tow like they owned it. He ignored the curious glances and the outright stares and made his way straight towards my table with a shit-eating grin. Jungkook seemed to have been smirking to himself too, and that’s how I knew I was in deep shit. Jimin was watching us with seemingly impassive eyes, but I could see the curiousness in them, especially since this was our first official meeting. I was well acquainted with him of course, but we’ve yet to actually speak with each other.

From the corner of my eye I could see Minjoon’s head shooting up in alarm and alerting Park in his office of what was going on. I shot him a warning glance as he was already halfway out of his chair but soon my attention was snatched by Yoongi, who slapped a piece of paper on my table with a wry grin. I looked at it. It was a confirmation of paying his parking tickets.

“There you go, officer, I hope you’re happy,” he chirped, self-satisfied like a big, spoiled cat, and if I wasn’t currently in the station I might have kicked him. Jimin made himself comfortable leaning on the neighbouring desk and spearing me through with intense eyes while Jungkook stood ramrod straight behind Yoongi sneering at me. This must have been such a great revenge for him I almost wanted to flip him off.

I was just about to open my mouth to retort something no doubt very inappropriate when Minjoon made it over to my desk and protectively stood by my side. My mouth snapped shut and I gave Yoongi a glare instead, to which he smirked knowingly.

“All the tickets, they’ve been paid,” he reiterated again, pointer finger tapping on the paper on my table, “And Kookie promises to do better.” The said man scowled behind him but stayed silent.

“What?” Minjoon asked confusedly, eyes jumping between all of us, “What is this pertaining to exactly?” He was talking to Yoongi, but I felt that his question was just as much pointed at me. Park was shuffling right on the edge of my periphery, curiously watching the whole thing go down, so I schooled myself and reminded myself that this wasn’t Yoongi’s office, and I couldn’t just curse him out in front of the whole unit. The bastard might have even enjoyed that. I gritted my teeth and stood up.

“Thank you, Mr. Min, for sorting out your situation,” I told him with a polite smile so tense it was basically a grimace, “and I hope your driver learns from this.” At the jab the young man narrowed his eyes at me, lips pursed, but didn’t move a single inch and didn’t make a single sound. Jimin leaning on the table was quietly snickering into his hand, watching the man’s tense form.

Yoongi’s answering smile was just as falsely sweet and polite, but the smugness still hung about his aura as he gave me a shallow bow and turned to leave, the whole time ostentatiously ignoring anyone else in the room. The moment the door closed behind him, the room was so silent you could hear a pin drop, and everyone was staring at me. My palms grew clammy and I nervously shuffled, eyes falling at the confused detective still standing next to me who was eyeing me just as questioningly as the rest of the office.

Minjoon looked like he wanted to say something, but his gaze jumped to the receipt still laying on my table and he froze, as if he wasn’t done processing the situation. Before anyone could do anything, Park decided to break the silence.

“Lee, Jang, my office. Now,” he said sternly and without waiting for us stalked back into his office. We exchanged anxious glances, but wordlessly trailed behind him. I had half a mind to quickly circle back and grab the ticket receipt with me as if it was evidence.

Once inside, Park was sitting behind his table with a stern face, if I had to guess he was on a good way to pretty pissed, and we both stood in front of his desk with our heads hung low like two schoolmates getting scolded by the headmaster. My grip tightened around the paper until I crumpled it.

“So, what has just happened?” the older man asked, voice seemingly impassive but still chilling me to the bones. Minjoon sent me a look, encouraging me to speak so we both could get out of this.

“Uh… so…” I started, not knowing what or how to say, but in the end decided that just coming right out with something as close to the truth as possible was the best way, “I’ve been giving Yoo- I mean Mr. Min parking tickets these past two weeks. I remembered his license plate and I realised I pass his car sometimes when he’s by the Black swan. It’s not legal to park there, so I started writing him up anytime I pass by and he’s there.” Both men in the office watched me, Park still keeping his impassive expression, while Minjoon looked at me with a mixture of surprise and amusement. I flushed from embarrassment under their scrutiny, heart beating out of my chest at having to explain and lie.

“Okay,” said Park finally and relaxed, “I guess you took being annoying to heart.” Honestly it sounded both like a compliment and an insult, but as long as I wasn’t in serious trouble I didn’t really care. I swallowed my irritation at his words and instead looked at Minjoon, who was fighting a smile. Normally that would help me calm down and laugh at the situation too, but at that moment I was so nervous and panicked I barely had the mind to acknowledge it.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked our superior, some frustration bleeding into my voice, but Park was already a hundred miles away and barely paid it any mind. “No, you can write parking tickets as much as you want, but you need to let me know if you’re getting into contact with the suspects, you understand?” his voice was gruff, but it was obvious he was no longer invested into this conversation. I nodded fiercely, focusing on keeping my face as guiltless as possible. Swallowing my pride, I bowed to him, apologised and thanked him for lenience, before I walked out of the office back in the direction of my own table and the office door.

Minjoon caught up to me, the amusement finally free to show on his face and now he was snickering lightly. I threw a nervous smile over my shoulder and walked straight out of the office aiming for hiding out in cafeteria for a moment. He followed, thoroughly enjoying the visual of Yoongi getting tickets now that he knew what it was about.

I sent him a glare and he put his hands up, but in the end burst out laughing. “It’s pretty cool,” he got out between giggles, “I’m not saying anything.” I relaxed a little and let myself go with the flow, slowly easing into laughing too and smacking his shoulder in joking reprimand.

“Actually, it explains so much,” Minjoon said finally when we got to the front of the coffee line and held our cups securely in our hands. “What do you mean?” I gave him a confused glance, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know, he just always smiles at you in a really weird way,” Minjoon said unthinkingly, obviously not finding it that strange, but I froze in my tracks watching him like a deer in the headlights, “You’ve been doing it for a while, right? I always thought he was just being a creep, but I guess he was thinking about all the tickets.” The detective snickered lightly, amused by this whole situation. I forced my muscles to relax and also gave a clipped nervous laugh, hopefully playing it off completely, even though I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I wondered just how much other people also realised that Yoongi was acting strange. If anyone else saw the teasing glint to his eyes and the curl of his lips that felt like he was sending secretive smirks aimed just at me, reminding me of our interactions that would lend me in serious trouble had anyone else found out.

Minjoon excitedly babbled some more, telling me about his encounter with one of the lower tier drug dealers and how he tried to escape from them through a window and got stuck, he was laughing through the whole story and I somehow managed to give him the appropriate reactions at the right times even though my mind was stuck on the dangerous man and how to deal with this mess for the rest of the afternoon.

The next day I angrily stomped my way through the doors of Yoongi’s office building. The lady sitting at the reception looked up, totally uninterested in me as I’ve been showing up here quite often, and then promptly looked back down to her desk, not even attempting to stop me. I stormed past her and went straight for the elevators and rode all the way up.

I needed to talk to Yoongi, now. If he thought this was going to stop me or deter me, or that it would be a warning for me and I would chill out, he would be sorely disappointed. I was angrier with myself than him though. We weren’t friends, nobody promised anyone anything. I operated on the belief that because he kept his mouth shut until now, he would continue to, but of course once I started getting too pesky, he would show me just how much I depended on his silence.

It was completely natural, and I couldn’t even blame him for it. I only blamed myself for getting fooled into the notion that he wouldn’t just because he waited this long to actually do anything.

Once the elevator door opened, I saw the always empty reception desk at the end of the hallway. It was quiet there, not even a shadow moved, and a sudden nervousness choked me. I wrung my hands and stepped around for a moment, but well. No time like the present. I took a deep breath and barrelled through the door.

It swung open wildly, hitting the wall with a dull thump. I strolled in with faux confidence and promptly realised – the room was empty. Usually Yoongi was sat behind his massive desk from dark wood or lounged about the sofa, but now looking around I couldn’t see any trace of his presence. There was complete silence, the door to the bathroom that was usually masked well into the wall now sat open and nor his coat nor his suit jacket was present.

My heart beat lighting fast with anxiousness, but my mind ran wild with possibilities. I looked around again, this time to make sure there wasn’t anyone around, I even checked the hallway again, but it was truly empty. Quickly I closed the door and hurried to his desk. The top was fully cluttered with documents to a point I could barely see the ornamented wood beneath, but at that moment I wasn’t interested in that, I was fully focused on a single thing – the fucking tracker.

There was a chance he was keeping it at home, but I found it more probable it was here, in this desk, with the worst case scenario being that Jungkook had it somewhere. Wildly I rummaged through papers, not caring about making a mess at all. There was a camera in the corner, and I knew it could see me as clear as day, and it was more about making a statement than trying to hide anything. I was getting swayed by my impulsivity, I knew that, but a chance like this wouldn’t present itself to me again. This was the last thing Yoongi would expect from me and I had to keep him on his toes somehow. I chuckled at that and kneeled down.

Moving on to the drawers, I found two of them locked. My interest was sufficiently peaked by that. No reason to lock them, if they don’t hold something you don’t want taken, right? I smirked, making a point to look straight at the camera, before pulling a bobby pin from my hair and quickly getting to work.

I didn’t like to think about my childhood very much. I didn’t have much growing up in an orphanage in one of the poorest neighbourhoods in Seoul, and what I did have I had to fight for. I wasn’t proud of what I did when I was growing up, wasn’t proud of the people I was hanging around and the things I got myself into before I was scouted for the police academy, but even now I had to admit it left me with some questionable yet useful skills.

Like how to pick locks.

I swirled the pin around for a few moments, tentatively pushing it around and tapping at the metal machinery, hoping I didn’t get out of practice, when I heard a click and the lock gave way. I quickly went through the first one and it didn’t contain much, mostly more documentation and some very fancy pens and a diary.

My hand stilled on it for a second and I was tempted to peek, but I couldn’t. It felt too wrong and I couldn’t betray myself like that. I had no idea what would be contained within his diary, but it felt too much like a complete violation of privacy. Looking for the tracker could still be all a part of one big running joke, but actually going through his things didn’t sit right with me, especially since anything I got this way would be totally inadmissible in court and land me in more trouble than it was worth. Right, it could give me more information about him and push me in the right direction, but at the cost of not being able to look at myself in the mirror. With one last look I slammed the drawer shut and moved on to the other one, swallowing down the shame about my very questionable morals.

No time to dwell on it now, I would get Yoongi fair and square in the end, I just had to try a little harder.

Opening the other drawer revealed that the content was much more interesting. Upon moving some papers out of the way, I quickly found not only the tracker I had put on Yoongi, but also the tracker he had put on me. I narrowed my eyes at the camera and fished out both of the devices to show them off, waving them both around with a less than impressed expression. I pocketed them and flipped of the camera, quickly moving to shut the drawers, when something caught my attention.

Black steel glinted from underneath the mess in the second drawer and when I lifted it off, I gasped lightly. A gun was lying at the bottom, a little black handgun just hanging out inside his desk. Quickly I examined it, noting it was the same model police officers carried, DP51. It was accessible to get with the proper license and I knew Yoongi had it, he had gotten it legally some time ago and the model checked out, but it still shocked me to just see it lying about like that. But as long as it was legal, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. If I was petty enough, I’d check the serial number and make sure it was truly the one he had registered, but I still really wouldn’t be able to do much as I wasn’t even supposed to find it and had just committed a crime by breaking into his desk, so I’d rather not provoke my luck too much.

Just as swiftly as I threw things out I put everything back in there and shut it, not bothering to lock them again. Giving the camera one last victorious smile I rushed out, slamming the door behind me.

I didn’t even know if the universe was on my side or against me when I quite literally bumped straight into Yoongi on the sidewalk by the main entrance. He was just rounding a corner from the side alley when I crashed into him, almost falling on my ass, and I totally would have eaten dirt right out in the daylight if the man in question didn’t immediately shoot out his arms to catch me.

“Woah!” Yoongi exclaimed in surprise, hands grabbing onto my arms and pulling me back onto my feet trying to stabilise me a little. When he realised who I was, he smirked like he’s just come across his favourite idiot (he did). Jungkook ran over to us, alarmed and clearly worried for his boss’ safety. He would have ripped me away from Yoongi if the man himself didn’t stop him with a lazy little wave of his hand, no doubt curious which gems he’d get out of me now.

Once I had my feet under me again, I suddenly found that the irritation that always seemed to be present when I dealt with Yoongi was nowhere to be found. Instead I felt like the little shit-stirer today. I seemed to have shocked them both when I grinned widely, in that manner that you know I had just done something that would piss them off.

Yoongi regarded me suspiciously, probably putting two and two together and realising I had been loitering around the office building.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, officer?” he asked, shock robbing him of his usual poise. My smirk deepened and I gently grabbed his wrists to remove his hands from my arms. Jungkook watched me with a stare so intense it almost burned a hole in me, but I let him go immediately, his arms hanging in the air between us for a split second before Yoongi gathered himself and stepped back leisurely.

He tried to look cool and collected, but his eyes were sharp and calculated why I would be in such a good mood, clearly not used to me being so carefree in his presence. I had one of those moments when I was snapped out of my usual approach to Yoongi, maybe because only a single glance at him didn’t enrage me beyond human capabilities like usual, and I suddenly clocked in the put together state of him.

His hair was put into a half bun, but some soft strands were hanging around and framing his face, curling up into tiny waves, while the rest fell to his shoulders in a wavy mess. He was all in black again, black t-shirt and dress pants and a longer jacket with a white hem that fell to his mid-thighs. It wasn’t often that I actively realised that he was a fairly attractive man with a good sense of fashion, but when I did, it never failed to smack me right in my face. But tonight I was ecstatic about managing to swindle him like this and getting the tracker back, so I let myself tease him a little more than I usually would.

Before they could say anything, I sidestepped him and patted his shoulder. “Thanks for that,” I chirped out, shit-eating grin still firmly set on my face, “Looking good today, Mr. Bossman, but unfortunately I have to run now.” With that I set out back to my car so that I could hurry back to the station.

When I was pulling out of the parking spot, I could still see Yoongi and Jungkook standing on the corner, confusedly watching me. I couldn’t help myself and waved at them from the car as I was passing them. I wished I could have seen Yoongi’s face when he watched back that security tape, but unfortunately the universe wouldn’t allow me this much amusement.

Back at the station I immediately ran for the IT department and after some grovelling and apologizing for taking this long to return it, I was able to finally tie this loose end, hoping no one would ever request to review my involvement with this unit.

Walking out of there, I felt as if a whole mountain fell off of my heart and it put a pep in my step. For the rest of my shift I let the mental image of Yoongi losing his shit over a security recording carry me and it never failed to make me cackle even hours later.

When a week later I got summoned into Park’s office again, suffice to say I was shitting bricks. This could either be a continuation of last week, a more detailed interview about how much was I exactly involved with Yoongi, or he got wind of me returning the tracker. Neither of these were good – they would either land me in trouble or force me to lie, which I wasn’t exactly fond of.

I was nervously shuffling from foot to foot by the door for a long few moments, but just as I was about to knock and enter, I was suddenly joined by Minjoon and two people I’ve never met before – a man and a woman that looked a few years older than me. They were both dressed rather nicely and gave me small but friendly smiles when our eyes met. We exchanged hellos and pleasantries while I eyed the two of them curiously. Minjoon smiled at me in a way I could call encouraging and knocked, never initiating any introduction between us and before I could say anything, we were instructed by a gruff voice to come in, so I let it go for the moment.

Officer Hwang was already waiting inside, the older man was sitting on one of the chairs and chatting amicably with Park, whose face immediately shut off the moment strangers came in. The duo went over to the couch and sat down, looking expectantly towards Park to start speaking. We shuffled around a little, arranging chairs and getting comfortable, there was a hum of nervous small talk and then silence settled over the room as everybody sat down and looked towards the senior detective.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “We have several new leads, ones that I will later share with the whole team, but you should be briefed first as it directly involves the three of you.” Park awkwardly gestured towards us sitting on the other side of his desk uncomfortably squirming in our seats.

I began winding down slightly. It seemed that none of my fears were realised, and this meeting was about something completely different and none of my transgressions. I released a long breath, the tension leaving my body and I decompressed into the little chair. Minjoon looked over and must have caught my nervousness, so he sent me a little smile, probably thinking I just wasn’t used to being called to the office yet. I shakily returned it and tuned my attention back to the older detective.

“As you surely remember, about a month ago there was a call from a passerby about shots around the dock area down in west south Seoul. Upon arrival, a bloody scene was found with several bodies that were later identified to be small fish drug dealers,” Park began explaining the situation to us, “It was on the Kim family turf, so no connection to Mins was made. They seemingly are on cordial terms, so we didn’t have a reason to assume Min had anything to with it. But a few days ago, our Kim informant gave us the information that there are tensions rising between the two gangs and a month ago there was an altercation on the Kim turf that apparently happened by the hands of Min’s dogs. That made us circle back to this case and we think it might be what he was talking about.”

I remembered the instance very well, I realised with embarrassment flushing my face. It was the evening Minjoon refused to take me with him due to the gruesome scene and in anger I went to beg to Yoongi’s office for any kind of information, only to end up with a tracker on my phone. Stupid naïve old me, that has never dealt with a man of Yoongi’s calibre before. I shook my head lightly at the memory. The tracker situation would just not leave me alone.

There was silence in the room, less because people were shocked and more of an unsureness of whether he was expecting us to add something or he was content to carry on by himself. In the end, Hwang broke the tense atmosphere.

“They must have been in a rush to leave behind such a mess,” he drily stated, “not like the boys at all.” There were some hums of agreement from around the room and then more quietness. Finally, Park decided to get to the point of this, clapping his hands curtly to get all of our attention again and I flinched in my chair, having been looking at the two strangers sitting on the sofa whisper something to each other. When I turned to him, he was staring at me with his eyebrow raised before he continued.

“We have decided to collaborate on this investigation with the violent crimes unit,” Park briefly gestured to the two strangers sitting on the sofa, to which they gave us an awkward wave, “Jang and Hwang are the Min team in our unit, so you will be in charge of it on our end. I notified the boys who keep an eye on the Kims to be of assistance to you if you need it. Newbie, you will be working on this with them as an assistant.” I jerked, this time from surprise, looking all wide eyed at the detective before he got tired of my gradually happier and happier face and turned back to others. I could barely supress the joy that coursed through my veins at this, basically vibrating in my seat.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Minjoon giving me a cheeky smile, insinuating he was already aware of the situation, and I was likely the only that was kept in the dark about it. Excitement thrummed through me and I could barely stop myself from bouncing on the chair. There seemed to be a permanent smile etched into my features, and while Park kept giving out some more technical advice and instructions, I didn’t even listen properly through the sea of possibilities already flashing through my mind.

Within 5 minutes Park was pushing us all out of his office and we found ourselves awkwardly standing outside and looking at each other.

“Well, I guess I ought to introduce myself,” I broke the ice, suddenly emboldened by this turn of events, all sunshine and smiles as I offered my hand to them once again, “I am officer Lee Y/N, I joined the force last autumn.”

The man, who towered over me with his wide shoulders and muscled form, shook my hand first with a charismatic smile and nodded at me. “Name’s Choi Seungcheol, but you can call me Coups. I’ve been in the force for some time already.” His face looked very kindly, but there was a spark of a boyish cheekiness in his features. The lady by his side snickered at that and I couldn’t help myself and giggled along.

She stepped closer to me and pushed away Seungcheol so she could shake my hand as well. He jokingly pouted and gave her a side-eye, but it was obvious they were very close as both partners and friends. It made me smile at the display, hoping that one day when I got my own partner, we would be just as tight. My eyes took her form in, her dark wavy hair and confident face, she was a true mixture of beauty and strength.

“I’m Sunmi,” her voice brought me back and I stopped gawking at her with flushed cheeks, “I’m his senior, so don’t even ask how many years I’ve been in the force.” To this Seungcheol laughed meanly and lightly bumped her shoulder with his fist.

“We’ve been dealing with this case mostly on our own, but we’re excited about getting the help of your unit,” she added and gave us all a wide grin, “I’m sure we can all give each other useful information.” Seungcheol behind her nodded and then reached out to pat Minjoon’s shoulder.

“I’ll just beg you for like 20 minutes so I can run to the buffet and buy myself at least a sandwich or something, cause I’m about to die,” he joked good-naturedly with us and before anyone could say anything, already started walking back with a cheeky grin. Sunmi rolled her eyes fondly and then slowly turned to follow him. Minjoon just waved them off with a smile and then turned to us.

Me and Hwang were watching each other awkwardly. He regarded me with obvious mistrust and contempt, but I’d already gotten used to that in this unit, so I only returned it with a smile so fake I was surprised he wasn’t insulted by it.

“Okay you two, play nice,” Minjoon inserted himself into the situation and grabbed both of our shoulders, “there’s also no need for formalities now, we’ll all be working closely together. Y/N, please from now on call him Jiho, Jiho call her Y/N.” The man scowled at me but in the end buckled under the pressure of Minjoon’s stare and nodded my way in acknowledgement.

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff,” he then grumbled and moved to his table moodily. I scowled at his back, returning his favour in terms of warm welcomes, but Minjoon subtly shook his head at me so I schooled my expression back into careful neutrality. Inside I was pissed though. It’s not like I was stepping on any toes here, he just didn’t like me for the sake of not liking me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Minjoon walking towards the conference room with the infamous Min gang picture wall, so I followed after him. My happy mood took a small hit after such a reception from my colleague, but at least the violent crimes unit seemed really nice so not all was lost.

In the shoddy privacy the glass walls of the room offered I sat down and sulked, heart sinking as I realised that Minjoon might be the only person on my side here. Park was annoyed by me and Hwang obviously didn’t like me at all, and when it came to it, Seungcheol and Sunmi weren’t part of this unit and couldn’t really affect my standing among my own colleagues.

“Don’t pout now,” Minjoon’s teasing remark brought my attention back to him and when I took in his amused face, I had to fight off another scowl, “He’ll come around to you. He’s just annoyed a newbie is allowed to work with us so quickly.” That didn’t soothe my anger at all, but I pretended to smile towards the only kind man in this unit, not wanting to dig around in this open wound anymore.

“You shouldn’t take it personally,” the man continued obliviously, flipping his dark brown floppy hair out of his eyes as he fixed something on the wall, “you know, he’s Park’s understudy and as such he’s not only very old school, but he’s also been part of this unit for a long time without many promotions. Stuck in the same place for this amount of time, he isn’t the exactly the nicest to fast moving rookies. I had my problems with him as well, especially since I took the leading position in our team after only a few months here.” He smiled at me soothingly, throwing a glance at me over his shoulder with his kind eyes and it finally made me calm down a little.

“Sorry, I’m used to everyone hating me specifically that it never occurred to me he could be a dick to everybody,” I half joked half grumbled and Minjoon laughed at my words, pulling a genuine smile from me at the sound. For a few seconds I wished people here were a little more like him, or that I was assigned to him when I got here, but drowning in what ifs was never a good way to spend time, so I shut that self-pity down quickly.

Instead I focused on the wall and the few changes that have been made to it sometime this week. Truth be told, I was so caught up in feuding with the gang in real life, I kind of forgot to keep up with the information hanging here on the wall, so I took a few moments to take everything in.

Under the old picture of Yoongi that was the primary point of the wall someone taped a new picture of him, most probably very recent one and from some kind of an official black-tie event. He was wearing a sleek suit with his hair styled and slicked back from his face, champagne glass in hand as he kept a light conversation with someone out of the shot.

“That’s from the fundraiser for a new children ward in the Seoul St. Mary’s Hospital,” Minjoon supplied when he saw me looking at the pic, “As one of the richest men in Korea he gets around these events a lot, it’s kind of funny.” I scoffed playfully at his words.

“All you have to do is own a few hotels,” I sing-songed jokingly, eyes already moving across the wall for any new details. There weren’t many, most just pertained to Tae, Jimin and Jungkook going about their days and doing business. Yoongi’s schedule was mostly known to us and he rarely strayed into unknown spaces, Namjoon mostly just sat in his office and Hoseok was as elusive as ever. I had an inkling I probably saw more of him in the past few weeks than my colleagues did in months, and even then he just made sure everything was going okay around the docks. And as for Jin, he was an open book with his practice and reputation, so there weren’t exactly any skeletons to dig for in his closet.

Once again I realised that without a proper offensive we would never get close enough to Yoongi to actually prosecute any of his gang members, and although all the evidence I gathered could be easily dismissed just by Yoongi reporting me and asking for a restraining order, I still got closer than Park who always bumped into Namjoon’s carefully constructed walls of legal bullshit.

We all knew illegal shit happened behind closed doors, we all knew how he got his stuff here and what he sold in his clubs and how he dealt with his “employees”, but on the outside everything either seemed perfectly legal without any loopholes to sneak your way in or there just wasn’t enough conclusive evidence, letting Yoongi perfectly skirt the grey area and do his crimes in peace. At this point if we didn’t get a photo of him shooting someone point blank, we’d never be able to get him, cause he had the uncanny ability to weasel his way out of everything.

He truly was someone that’s been doing crime before I even learnt to tie my own shoes and it showed.

And while my plan with Hoseok crashed and burned, I wasn’t giving up. I wouldn’t give up. I just needed time to recoup and find a new way in. Problem was, Yoongi was way too aware of me now and yes, I did learn from my mistakes and always managed to attack from a different angle, but I was still only a single person, and it was too easy for them to toy with me. I was too vulnerable against the seven of them and somehow they always got ahead of me, made me into their entertainment and played games with me until I caught up. I had to change my tactics, again.

And this was my opportunity to do so. Minimise contact and focus on the investigation and skirt around them for as long as possible. The less they saw of me now, the better. At this point, that was the only thing they wouldn’t expect me to do. Here or there drop in and keep it together, remain professional. Or just turn it around completely and play by their rules to subvert their expectations. I could do this. I had to, really. There was no other choice against Yoongi’s wit and his men.

Next to me Minjoon was humming as he put up some additional information to the wall, the basic stuff we all already knew but for people from a different unit it could be useful to keep it up so they oriented in the case better. Slowly, the grey of the coating couldn’t even be seen anymore, all covered up in pictures of people and bodies and crimes. It was strangely calming, having it all in front of me like that, seeing clearly the web of depravity and corruption. It was easier to keep the goal in mind and not get lost in all the dead ends.

The sudden sound of the door opening tore me from my musings and I jerked in shock, fight or flight almost kicking in since I was so lost in my own head for a moment, but I relaxed once I realised it was the violent crime guys with Hwang sullenly trailing in behind them. I fought to keep the eye rolls to myself and instead gave a warm smile to Seungcheol and Sunmi, gesturing for them to make themselves comfortable around the table. Minjoon was still messing around with some of the files and boxes and Hwang walked over to him, the two of them whispering to each other about something.

Sunmi started piling files onto the table, so I kept my attention there, sitting down across from them and slowly going through them. There were a few cases, but most of them pertained to the killing from a month ago. There was a lot of witness statements, some vague comments about the safety of the area and a lot of avoiding answers when it came to the topic of the Kim family. I sifted through them until I got to the pictures and stilled.

I’d never seen the crime scene before. I have seen pictures of crime scenes, even pictures of bodies and autopsies, but the fact that I knew the killer, talked with him and joked with him, it messed me up more than I was anticipating it would. It was the first crime scene I saw that was so viscerally real and close to me, to my own case. It felt like my heart was beating out of my throat and I could physically feel my hands getting sweaty.

“Hey, you okay?” I heard a kind deep voice, and two hands suddenly entered my peripheral. I quickly tore my eyes away from the pictures of bloody bodies strewn across an industrial complex, of pools of thick red liquid covering most of the floor and walls splashed with it. I tried not to think about the obvious signs of a scuffle, of the evidence of complete overpowering by power unseen and totally unexpected. I tried not to think about how much force do you need to exert while killing someone to get their blood all over the ceiling.

My eyes met the worried ones of Seungcheol and I nodded shakily. His question got the attention of most of the room, and I found myself at the centre of attention with several concerned gazes trained onto me and Hwang watching me condescendingly from the corner. That quickly amplified my unease and I found myself stuttering out another affirmative answer almost incoherently.

“You said you were a newbie, right?” Sunmi asked, but her voice and face were soft with no trace of mocking I was afraid I’d see there, “Is this your first crime scene?” With shame written all over my face I nodded again and pushed the file with the pictures away, trying hard not to catch anybody’s eyes.

Seungcheol laughed softly and I flinched, humiliation filling me from head to toe, until he said: “You’re still holding up pretty well, when I saw my first crime scene I threw up.” Sunmi laughed at that, laughed at him, and yet it wasn’t insulting and he returned her smiles completely unperturbed.

“Oh god, I remember that,” she said breathlessly, “It was absolutely hilarious. He was green the whole day and barely uttered a word.” Seungcheol smirked at her and I could see in Sunmi’s eyes she realised he was about to say something about her past the way they narrowed and her smile froze.

“Actually Captain later told me that you threw up too and then cried during lunch, so we’re pretty even,” he said smugly and there was silence for a few seconds before they both started giggling at each other. I couldn’t help myself and a few giggles escaped me too at their antics.

“Honestly, I think the only reason I am not throwing up right now is because it’s only pictures,” I managed to mutter out my own hesitant comment, topping it off with a shaky smile hoping to show my gratitude to them for trying so hard to distract me from it. They both grinned back, nodding in encouragement, and I leaned back into my chair a little, stomach still rolling around but now considerably calmer than before.

Minjoon finally abandoned the wall and sat down next to me, his hand gently patting my shoulder before he kindly said: “Don’t worry, everybody has a reaction when they see something like that for the first time. I threw up too the first time I was taken to a crime scene.”

I started squirming under all their attention and just simply nodded to get them back to focusing on anything else, especially since Hwang’s eyes coldly regarded me from the wall watching me like I was totally pathetic.

In my mind, I was suddenly brought back to that day, how angry I was with Minjoon for underestimating me and telling me I can’t come with him. Back then I thought he was just being overprotective because I’m a woman, that he sees me as weaker like all the rest and immediately jumped into going to Yoongi instead and embarrassing myself there, but now having seen these photos, I was suddenly relieved I didn’t go. I was stupid, I had no idea what I was talking about all those weeks ago. I looked to him and gave him a thankful smile, even if he had no idea what I was thinking about, and he returned it tenfold. That helped me calm down even more, but still there was an undeniable tenseness to my shoulders and a slight tremble in my hands.

In some way I was also glad for not having seen the scene back then, because I don’t think I would be able to face Yoongi the next day without throwing up again.

The conversation around me shifted already to the other files and I was only brought back to what was happening around me once Minjoon touched my arm in concern, watching me the whole time I was dissociating. I gave him a half-hearted smile and tuned back in.

“It’s not official, of course,” Sunmi was just saying, finger tapping on one of the unfamiliar files, “But we think it’s highly likely. There’s some similarities, even though it’s just speculation and no formal ties to any of the gangs have been made, but it’s all victims that ran through these circles and their demises were very sudden and very violent. It’s worth it to go through it with you experts and see.” So they brought extra files that could also be associated with the Min gang. Curiously I pushed one file open and gave it a quick glance over. It seemed to be some old rich guy that was murdered on the street few months back and it was at first classified as mugging.

“Have these happened in or around places known to be associated with these gangs?” I found my voice finally and jumped back into professional headspace, trying to shake off the residual unsettlement. Seungcheol’s eyes jumped to me suddenly, presumably getting surprised by me inserting myself back into the conversation.

“Yeah, they’re all mostly directly from or from around the Min or Kim turf,” he said and gave me a supportive smile. I returned it, still somewhat awkward with them as strangers, but quickly getting drawn into their warm presence and energy.

Minjoon next to me hummed, watching the table quickly disappear under a load of papers and photos, seemingly deep in thought. Then he looked at me and smiled. It was the ‘I’m gonna have you do something you’ll hate’ kind of smile and I already felt my enthusiasm crashing through the floor all the way to hell.

“I think it’d be beneficial to go through the files and see if any of the names seem familiar to us or pop in our database. If we find a concrete link to them, we can count them in,” he said slowly, like he was pitching an idea for a new breakfast commercial trying to win over tough investors, and his eyes slid over to me again, “Y/N, please start with that and keep me updated on your progress.”

I gave Minjoon a tight-lipped smile and nodded, gathering all the files on a little pile in front of me. I couldn’t pinpoint why exactly I was so uncomfortable in this situation, but there was just a feeling creeping up my back that something was wrong and I had no idea why. I squeezed my trembling fingers into a fist and listened to Minjoon explaining basic information to the violent crimes team about Yoongi and his organisation. I listened on a half ear, most of the things long time known to me, some even information I could potentially expand on if it wasn’t immediately followed up by questions I couldn’t answer.

I imagined Yoongi in my mind, I thought back to our last meeting and tried to summon back the feeling of power and vindication I felt after leaving his office with the trackers. I still haven’t followed up with him, still didn’t come by for another battle or to see his irked but intrigued gaze. He’d tell me something smug, teasing, he’d maybe call me a thief or make fun of me for looting when I was a police officer.

But now I wouldn’t be able to follow up on it anymore, with the investigation I’d be needed around the precinct more, I couldn’t get away with disappearing so much without any explanation. And I still didn’t have another plan how to track down Hoseok either.

Minjoon moved to the wall and was gesturing to some of the photos, mainly going over the main six. I zeroed in on the pics we had of the man I was after so desperately, most of them were taken of him on his phone or with a scowl on his face as he dealt with something in the docks, his strict face as scary as captivating.

It’s the face of a stone-cold killer, I reminded myself. They’re all killers. A feeling of unease fell over me, like I realised for the first time just how much I was playing with fire these past few months and more than ever I couldn’t comprehend why Yoongi was so lenient with me, when I now first-hand experienced how his enemies ended up.

By the time we were done in the conference room, it was already getting dark outside. Seungcheol and Sunmi departed with a few nice words and promises to meet us next week at the scene, before they both disappeared down the hallway leading to the service parking lot. Hwang also scurried off somewhere without saying much, just one second he was there and the next there was no trace of him.

I stretched, my whole body absolutely screaming from sitting by the table for hours upon hours on no end, and as I got up one joint after another cracked like crisps getting stepped on, a long groan leaving my mouth as my muscles locked with the temporary relieving pain.

“Remind me to never sit at this table for longer than two hours next time,” I said to Minjoon, voice strained but carrying a tone of humour in it. He laughed lightly, not really looking at me as he tried to tidy up the table. I stole a few files right from under his hands and he shot me curious glance.

“Aren’t you going home?” he asked with a polite concern lighting his voice, “It’s been a long afternoon and we should be fresh tomorrow.” I gave him a toothy grin and gestured to the files in my hands.

“I will go home, I just want to copy these so I can have a look at them outside work,” I explained and moved to leave the room, but Minjoon stopped me with his hand gently grabbing my arm. I froze and turned to him, clocking in his sheepish expression with lips pursed as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t decide how.

“What’s up?” I asked gently, turning to face him fully and give him my attention, hoping it would coax him into spilling whatever he was holding inside. He smiled at me blindingly and it instinctually made me smile too.

“Thanks for taking on the files,” he said and I felt my smile slipping a little, but held on steadfast, “Of course I’ll try to help you with it as much as possible when I have the free time for it.” For what felt like the thousandth time that day I nodded to avoid actually speaking on my feelings. I didn’t really know what I would tell him anyway. That I hoped that now that I was a part of the team officially I wouldn’t just get saddled with the desk work? I was grateful they wanted to take me to the site with them and I knew that my task was also important, but it still felt like I was a secretary to a detective team instead of fully being part of the investigation too.

“I knew I could count on you,” Minjoon sighed relieved and patted my head, ruffling my hair a bit in the process, “The moment Park mentioned this collaboration happening, I knew that I wanted to push for your participation. I’m glad he listened to me in the end.” My eyes widened enough to almost fall out of the sockets.

“You pushed me through to the team?” I asked totally flabbergasted. Minjoon only nodded with a mischievous expression. “You were so passionate about this from the beginning, I knew you had it in you to make it here,” he told me encouragingly. Warmth filled me from the inside, gratefulness almost making my eyes water as I took the information in.

“Thank you Minjoon,” I said as sincerely as I possibly could, “Truly, it means everything to me.” The man winked and then moved to leave the conference room. Right before he walked out he threw one last glance at me and said: “Don’t stay up too late.”

I was left standing there long minutes after the door banged shut after him, just processing the whole situation. There was still leeway for me to gain respect through this, I just had to prove myself. I had to go along and give it my hundred and ten percent, and with Minjoon on my side it was still possible for me to find my way into this unit. With new determination I set on, quickly copying the files and making my way to my car.

Sitting behind the wheel, I suddenly didn’t quite know what to do. Somewhere deep down I wanted to have one last showdown with Yoongi before disappearing. The way we left things was too open and there were things that needed to be said now. On the other hand, it would be a ballsy move to just disappear after what I pulled in his office a week ago. I was torn, but still, I already knew what I would end up doing.

I’ve already come to recognise the pattern – I would get upset at work, I would drive to Yoongi trying to prove something to myself, I would embarrass myself in front of him and then I would regret it and go home chastising myself for getting tangled into his games. But knowing it didn’t make the prospect of arguing with Yoongi over nothing any less tantalising.

And I had a big win under my belt now. I desperately needed to know, needed to see the effect of my office stunt.

Before I could talk myself out of it I put the car in gear and started driving in the direction of Pied Piper. It was too late for Yoongi to still be at the office, unless there were special circumstances, and between all his joints and businesses, I’ve found Pied Piper to be the safest bet when I wanted to find him quick. Glancing at the files sitting on my passenger seat I steeled myself and drove mindlessly, already knowing the road there by heart.

Thirty minutes later (because Itaewon was absolutely packed and I could barely make my way through the streets, not to mention park) I was marching up to the Pied Piper bouncers as I’d done countless times before, playing the part of the big bad detective as best as I could.

“Tell boss Lee Y/N’s here,” I told one of the muscley bald men immediately as I was within earshot. He gave me an unimpressed look, eyes sliding from my head all the way to my toes with mocking eyes, before he scoffed.

“Boss isn’t here,” was all he said before he turned away from me, ignoring me in a way that was supposed to send me home with my tail tucked between my legs. Instead I rolled my eyes and loudly scoffed back.

“Look, whatever he told you about taking or not taking visitors, just use your walkie-talkie and say my name, I assure you he’ll want to see me,” I played up my annoyance, putting my hands on my hips and tapping my foot impatiently, admittedly probably looking pretty funny to the guys even though I was trying to be so tough to sway them. I was surprised I wasn’t already a known face around here to be perfectly honest, but it is true that I’ve never recognised any of the men even after numerous visits, so the chance I was talking to someone new every time, or at least that enough time has passed to make them forget about me, was extremely high.

The man turned back to me with an outright hostile face and I froze for a moment, fear gripping me for split second before I threw him a glare of my own. The situation was quickly spinning out of control and I didn’t know for how long I’d get away with messing with them, but before I had to start thinking about plan B, the other bouncer turned to us.

“He’s telling the truth, boss isn’t in tonight,” he said in a much more mellow voice, determined to keep the peace. I immediately changed my attitude, giving him a tight smile.

“Where is he then? Dynamite? The hotel?” I fired a question after question and it made the bouncer regard me with a glint of amusement in his eyes, like a giant that was watching a kitten fight for its life.

“I have no idea,” was all he said. I kept waiting for him to elaborate, but once enough time has passed I realised he just wasn’t going to say anything more. I narrowed my eyes at him, which he seemed to be quite enjoying seeing me pissed.

“You don’t know or you can’t tell?” I asked him again, the tapping of the foot back, and I felt a little too much like a toddler throwing a tantrum in the supermarket. He just shrugged and shook his head. “We’re way too low in the food chain to have information about his whereabouts,” the first bouncer grumbled under his breath without glancing our way, keeping his eyes on the line of impatient club-goers trying to get in.

“Okay then,” I drawled out annoyed, “Is Taehyung in?” No matter how much I preferred not meeting the overly flirty man, he would definitely know where to find Yoongi or just call him over, so it was worth surviving his company for one evening. But the way the second bouncer smiled like a cat that was about to eat an unguarded piece of meat, I already knew the answer before he even opened his mouth.

“Nope,” he drawled out the p and released it in an annoying pop, grinning at me like it made his entire evening. I rolled my eyes at him but didn’t dignify it with an answer.

“Alright, is Jimin at The Rose?” I was literally grasping at the straws bringing up the man I haven’t even officially met yet, but it was my last shot unless I wanted to go annoy Namjoon who for sure was still sitting in that little office of his. But I made such a great job of totally avoiding him and I’d rather keep it that way. There was just something about him that made me tense and uncomfortable.

“It’s highly possible,” ground out the first bouncer, clearly done with our bullshit. I gave them a fake smile and if my eyes could kill, both of them would have already been speared through four times over, but judging by the barely concealed snickers of the second bouncer, he was having the best time ever. I rolled my eyes at him one last time and then walked off without another word.

The drive to The Rose took me another additional 20 minutes, but thankfully this part of the entertainment block was far less crowded as it was too high-end for most. The line in front of the door was much shorter and consisted mostly of young women, most of them likely hoping they would be able to bag a filthy rich good-for-nothing as they excitedly gazed at the building and made eyes at the bouncers hoping they would be let in. The guys standing here were also very well dressed, both sporting nice suits with monochrome t-shirts in dark colours, hair swept and gelled up as if they were part of the exclusive clientele.

I almost felt ashamed walking up to them wearing my crinkled work clothes, hair no doubt so messy I must have looked half insane from the back. I regretted not at least brushing through it once in the car, but now it was too late as I was making my way along the line trying to look as confident as possible. I ignored the dirty looks from the ladies for skipping the line and showing up looking almost like a homeless person and instead carried myself until I stood directly in front of the two men guarding the door.

“Is Park Jimin here tonight?” I asked, pushing down the feelings of annoyance at the mounting sense of déjà vu. I just hoped I wouldn’t helplessly spin in circles here as well. All I wanted was to laugh in Yoongi’s face a little, but apparently universe chose this moment for some karmic warning. I swear to god in the past few months those bastards were almost at every corner I went to, it was literally impossible to dodge them, and now this one evening I can’t get hold of anyone? What was this bullshit?

The men regarded me with their impassive gazes, also judging me from head to toe, before one of them turned towards the door and discreetly pulled out a walkie-talkie. I sagged in relief as that was a good sign. Jimin was most likely here and probably open to visitors.

The man turned back to me and only huffed out “name?” without any preamble. I quickly stuttered it out, the nerves now taking over as I realised I would have to face the man for the first time ever completely alone, both without a police partner or Yoongi present.

The man relayed the information and within seconds I was being ushered through the door inside, catching spiteful jealous glances from the line of hopeful visitors. If you knew why I was here girls, you’d be a lot less ruffled about it.

The bouncer didn’t leave my side for a second, hand firmly planted on my shoulder as he steered me through the fancy club. I was infinitely grateful for his paranoia as I’ve never been here before and had no clue where to go. He led me to a discreet staircase at the furthest wall from us, hidden directly behind the bar. At first I thought he would bring me to a secluded little area in the VIP zone like in Dynamite or Pied Piper, but I quickly realised this was way too hidden to be meant for public use.

My confusion and unease continued to mount as we climbed those stairs and the sounds from the club died down to a near complete silence except for the bass of the music reverberating through the walls. Up on the little standing was a tiny area for waiting, containing a small sofa and table set with some dried flowers as decoration. And directly in front of us as we got up was an ornate dark wood door, perfectly fitting into the whole vibe of flamboyant wealth.

The bouncer finally let me go to shortly knock on the door and then walked straight off, leaving me standing there with my mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. Before my confusion led me to do something even more stupid, the door swung open and there he stood, Park Jimin, god amongst men, giving me a megawatt smile, laying his charm on so thick I could laugh. With a wide gesture he invited me inside what I now realised must have been his office.

I walked in unsurely, head flitting from side to side trying to take everything in, the nervousness reaching crescendo, especially when I heard the door click shut behind us. I quickly turned to face the man again and he was smiling just as seductively and invitingly as before, now gesturing to the lavish red sofa taking up the corner of the room.

“Please, do have a seat,” he said languidly, the words flowing out of him smoothly and wrapping around me like a ribbon, his voice as mesmerising as siren’s song. Eyes wide and shocked silent, I just went with it and almost unwittingly moved over to the corner to sit. From here I could see the whole room, the bookcases filled with books, files and memorabilia, the massive dark wood desk situated right opposite of the door and the art on the walls depicting various landscapes.

“They’re all legitimate, mostly 19th century European painters,” Jimin supplied immediately as he saw me watching the framed pieces, “Joonie-hyung and Tae have an interest in art. They occasionally buy some and put it in our houses or offices.” I felt myself steadily blushing more and more under his intense gaze, his blonde hair swept out of his face in a way that perfectly accentuated his sharp face and his plump reddish lips pulled into a soft smirk. It wasn’t the same way Yoongi smirked, no, this was a smirk of a man who knew he was beautiful and could sway people only with few heated looks and sweet words.

He slowly walked over and took a seat next to me, making me quickly look away and feign disinterest, almost going to the extent of picking at my nails just to put some barrier between us. I wasn’t used to encountering men like Park Jimin and I felt like a fish out of water here in his office, sitting on his no doubt extremely expensive couch.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked courteously, elegantly gesturing to the closed bar to my left. I immediately shook my head, already far too acquainted with how it went with them.

“I’m here by car,” I told him resolutely, but he only smiled sweetly. He shifted closer to me slightly, hand curling along the top of the sofa until his hand almost touched my shoulder, and he curled his fingers as if going to caress my arm. I felt like a stone statue, just sitting there watching him, terrified and nervous and confused in the face of his approach.

“I’m sure we could arrange a way for you to get home by other means,” he said leisurely, hand staying firmly put just a ghost’s breath away from the goosebumped skin of my upper arm. At this point my brain finally started catching up with me and going back online.

I knew he only flirted with me this aggressively for two reasons – either he was buying time or he was scoping me out just like Taehyung had back then when we first officially met. I was betting on the second option.

“No, thank you,” I finally said firmly, “I’m not really much of a drinker.” That had the man snorting and he relaxed into the soft pillows. I threw him a confused look at such a reaction.

“So I’ve heard,” he explained with an amused glint in his eyes, “Jin-hyung would love you. He’s always trying to get us to drink less.” Then he put a finger to his  pouting lips in a thinking motion, making a whole act of it with his eyes flitting from side to side as well.

“But on a second thought, he’s not currently too impressed with you,” Jimin giggled like we were sharing high school level secrets and not talking about extremely dangerous men potentially having it out for me, “So maybe he wouldn’t be too hot about your drinking habits.” With that he snickered some more, entertained eyes watching me with a disconcerting undertone of detachment and cold calculatedness.

So Jimin was the type to not censor himself too much, talking quite freely about things I could never get out of the others, even though the topics were still carefully measured. He didn’t seem like someone that tiptoed around things and rather preferred to be a little more open. But there was a deceptiveness in this approach as well and I imagined he would be quite good at slowly talking all of your secrets out of you.

“I’m sure he shares that sentiment with the driver,” I hesitatingly played along, on purpose choosing to not to use Jungkook’s name to spite him once Jimin told him about our conversation, “He seems to despise me. I truly have no idea why; I’ve never done anything to him.” I put on the innocence act so thickly it circled back into sarcasm, and I couldn’t help the little smirk at knowing that at least the youngest was the one person I would always manage to get pissed off. I didn’t seem to be having much luck with it with the others. Especially now that I would prefer to dodge all Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin.

Jimin threw his head back with his hearty high-pitched laugh, delighted at the dig at their youngest. When his eyes trained back onto me, they were no less dangerous but a lot more intrigued. I realised that while he was sitting very comfortably with one leg under the other, side leaning on the sofa and his hand still hanging between us leisurely, I sat next to him as stiff as a log with my hands nervously picking at the hem of my t-shirt. I tried to relax a little more, but it seemed impossible next to such a natural predator. No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I just stumbled right into a dragon’s mouth.

This guy was intense, and I suddenly found myself missing Yoongi’s annoying jabs and smug self-assured smirks. At least I could match his and Jungkook’s energy, but Jimin just kept throwing me off, and it didn’t help that he was one of the most beautiful people I have ever seen.

“While I do love this small talk at Kookie’s expense,” Jimin said finally after just staring at me trying to get comfortable with a barely concealed entertained grin, “But tell me, officer, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

He was back to his flirtatious sensual approach with the way he almost purred those words, trying to get a reaction out of me again. He almost succeeded, the blush attempting to rise to my cheeks, but I scolded myself and looked towards the desk to keep a barrier between us.

“Funnily enough, I’m actually looking for Yoongi,” I muttered, trying to sell it as a serve to knock him down a little, but I was too unsure of myself and honestly done with this whole fucking evening. Jimin pouted, his full lips curling down sullenly before they pulled into a smirk again.

“Figures, but here I was… hoping you’d finally come to meet me too,” he flirted some more, putting on almost a little breathless tone, “since all the others already got the pleasure.”

“I haven’t met the doctor yet,” I blurted out without thinking, immediately mashing my lips shut in embarrassment. Jimin giggled lightly.

“That’s true,” came his sing-song voice, “Thank you for comforting me.” Before I could say anything, there was a knock at the door. I watched as Jimin’s sweet flirty mask fell right off of his face, eyes flickering with a hint of irritation and expression turning colder in an instant.

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” he said in what I assumed was his normal tone of voice, pretty face hardening with the hint of annoyance. I was totally dumbfounded, rendered speechless by such a switch up, eyes still glued to his form as he moved through the room to open the door. At least I knew he didn’t care about keeping up his performance in front of me, that had to count towards something. He probably got from me whatever it was he was looking for. I nervously went through our interaction up until now trying to decipher what it could have been, but came up empty.

Now that the sofa was empty and the man was on the other side of the room, I finally had space to breathe and sank a little into the lavish furnishing. The door swung open with one swift motion of his arm and without giving the person on the other side a chance, Jimin said: “I said no interruptions.” His eyes screamed some kind of warning to them and I straightened a little. “I have a guest,” were Jimin’s next words and the person wordlessly slinked away, Jimin immediately shutting the door.

I gave him a look, which he returned with an amused smile, much realer this time. There seemed to be something a little mocking in his eyes and it creeped me out, it made him seem much less human and more like a vampire that was about to suck me empty of my blood. I quickly shook my head to push that silly thought away and focused on him properly again.

“Sorry detective, but I’m sure you’d understand that I wouldn’t want to bore you with all the business talk,” he said pointedly, voice hiding a warning to me as well not to probe more. In these circumstances I had no other choice but to comply, I wasn’t properly armed to deal with him one on one at this point; and I’d rather not provoke him when I barely even knew him. Maybe I’d be a little braver with Yoongi present, but as it stood now I was simply at a disadvantage.

“Of course,” I replied just as courteously as when he invited me to sit on the sofa. To that Jimin gave me an amused smile but was obviously pleased with my quick surrender.

“I heard what you did in hyung’s office,” he stated suddenly matter-of-factly, and I was sure that if I had been drinking something I’d choke. The blush was fighting its way back onto my face having been confronted with the information like this by Jimin of all people, who was watching me entertained by my reaction.

“He had something of mine. Besides, I’m afraid that’s between me and Yoongi,” I managed to squeak out, avoiding his gaze to keep at least the illusion of unbotherness, “and Jungkook I guess.” Jimin leaned on the massive desk, making himself comfortable there as well, eyes now appraising me more sharply with all the sweetly flirty aura gone. I squirmed in my place under such scrutiny, nervousness hitting me in overwhelming waves.

“Well, you’re in luck, because one of them is making their way here right now,” Jimin said in the end, some of the sharpness melting away a little. I had no idea what he really was looking for, but whether he found it or not, he seemed at least a little satisfied with my reaction. Which didn’t help me calm down at all, he was still freaking me out but in a completely different way than Namjoon did. Yoongi definitely chose his companions well, all of these men had something in them that gave me the creeps.

“I’d hope it’s Yoongi, I’m not sure Jungkook coming here would mean anything good for me,” I shuddered at the thought, all of the pictures of the younger man with Hoseok and the implicit but very clear connection between them and their work resurfacing to the forefront of my mind and setting an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Jimin laughed, as carefree as ever, head lightly tipping back with the motion. When he looked back at me, something dangerous glinted in his eyes.

“You don’t even know how right you are, detective,” he remarked somewhat ominously, a dark edge creeping into his amused voice, “But I don’t think you need to worry about that right now.” The unspoken yet in there put me on edge, but I was well aware of what happened to people that posed a danger to Yoongi and his position. Even if he wouldn’t send a police officer to the bottom of the river, that didn’t mean I was safe from a potential retribution.

I returned his gaze as steadily as I could, trying to push down all the swirling wisps of fear and unsettlement licking at my heart but I had no idea how successful I really was. There was nothing I could read from Jimin’s carefully guarded face as we sat there for a few tense silent moments and sized each other up, before Jimin suddenly perked up again with a full grin and gestured to the bar again.

“You sure I can’t tempt you into a drink?” he tried for the third time and I almost for a few seconds considered saying yes, but quickly shut that part of me down. Instead I gave him a polite smile and shook my head, the tension creeping back into my back and shoulders the longer we sat there.

Jimin seemed to be quite content with leaving me to stew in my own head, watching amusedly as I squirmed around on the sofa and sent him nervous glances the longer the silence stretched on. I surely had no particular topics to discuss with him and Jimin was suddenly as quiet as a mouse.

Just as I was considering just getting up and leaving to escape the oppressive aura in the room, the door opened and my head snapped in the direction of the movement. At first I could only see a veiny calloused hand in a black jacket before slowly the rest of the man came into view. Yoongi walked in leisurely, like he was on his personal runway, a relaxed smirk on his face as his eyes flitted between the two of us. His hair was messy and it was the first time I saw him not perfectly put together and in more casual clothes.

The way my whole body decompressed in relief upon seeing his smug face was actually embarrassing and it left me flushed and avoiding his gaze. But Jimin was stressing me out for the past twenty minutes and it was impossible to match his energy like I’d learnt with Yoongi. With him it was already a stable ground for me, Jimin on the other hand left me scrambling to reconsider my strategy every few minutes. I hadn’t even realised, but I was mentally exhausted after the almost half an hour we spent here alone, not to mention the long draining day I had.

I felt like a little kid whose mom left him in the cashier line to run for something last minute and finally returned just in time to handle the check out.

He didn’t speak to me at all at first, instead went straight for Jimin. They exchanged pleasantries and whispered to each other for a moment before the blond man moved back to the sofa to sit down next to me, while Yoongi made himself comfortable in the big leather chair behind the table.

I sent a wary glance at the new occupant and inched a little away from him, my nerves so high strung I felt like a bow string about to snap. Finally, Yoongi’s amused eyes set on me and his lips curled arrogantly as they usually did, and I found some security in the familiarity of it all.

“How sweet of you to turn half the Seoul upside down for me,” was how he greeted me and I couldn’t help the scowl, “The boys told me how desperate you were for me.” That could have only meant the two bouncers at Pied Piper that were just intent on screwing me over and playing with me, and now no doubt intent on embarrassing me further. I fought off any kind of blush that could be induced by his choice of words and instead glared at him in annoyance.

“What can I say, I’m used to always finding you when I want it,” I retorted back firmly, cursing them both for coming out with such flirty personas, “You’re quite the creature of habit.” Yoongi’s lips spread in a mean grin, eyes glinting with something darker than I was used from him.

“I was enjoying some company tonight,” he said matter-of-factly, eyes quickly flicking up to me to gauge my reaction, “Forgot I have a needy little detective to take care of.” There was an actual tinge of annoyance in his voice as he said that, and it took me a moment to clock it. I rolled my eyes at him so vehemently I felt a warning pang of an onsetting headache, now wishing I had said yes to Jimin’s offer so I could theatrically sip on a drink.

That explained a lot about tonight – his unknown location, his rumpled appearance and the sudden twinge of irritation that was so hard to come by with this man. Jimin probably pulled him here before he got any action and now he was mad at me for ruining his fun. My lips immediately curled up, mouth fighting off the huge, entertained grin that wanted to split my face in half, a laugh clawing its way out of my throat, and I lost to it. I quickly turned my head away from him before the laugh overtook me, politely trying to hide the amusement with my hand, but to no avail. He still saw my shoulders shaking and my barely concealed snickering.

When I turned back around, expression still painted with too much mirth, I found that his usually smug smirk was twitching in displeasure on his face. It almost made me want to laugh again, like when you’ve finally calmed down after a fit and then made eye contact with your friend and started all over again, but this time I more or less managed to swallow it down. No pun intended. A new wave of giggles threatened to hit me as I rode the high of finally being the one that laughs at him being mad and not the other way around, but I curbed my enthusiasm somewhat. And to think it was about something as stupid as this. Well, if for nothing else, at least today’s meeting cockblocked him, that would be some payback.

“I’m so sorry for ruining your evening fun,” I managed to choke out, still fighting to calm down a little, “I’m sure you can get your dick sucked tomorrow.” Jimin next to me also seemed to be pushing down some giggles of his own, quickly gulping down whatever it was he had in a glass that I didn’t notice him pouring, eyes stubbornly watching the door instead of his disgruntled hyung.

There was just something so human about Yoongi getting mad about this and it reminded me that no matter what, we were both just people, not only criminals and detectives. It made me feel like more like I was attending a college party instead of chasing after a mobster.

“So what do you need tonight?” Yoongi grumbled finally, giving Jimin a chastising look, “I doubt you came here to laugh at me.” I smirked wickedly again, really fucking wishing I had a glass for the dramatic effect, but instead I just leisurely drummed on my knee with my fingers.

“Actually, funny you say that,” I told him smugly, “because I did.” A spark of recognition bloomed through Yoongi’s eyes, and he suddenly relaxed into the chair, the arrogant aura back full force. My heart stuttered a little in anxiousness, hoping I’d manage to stay on the high horse for a little while longer.

“I see,” Yoongi purred out in the manner that annoyed me the most when we interacted, gaze lazily sliding over me from the corner of his eyes, “so this is about the tracker.” I gulped, holding onto the confidence I felt just a minute ago for dear life and trying to come across just as relaxed and smug as he was all the time. He had much more practice in that though, and I would always tell on myself somehow.

Not really thinking of a smart retort fast enough, I only hummed and smiled in what I hoped was a mysterious way. That made Yoongi laugh a little, but it wasn’t demeaning, no, it was more a laugh of incredulity, the kind that didn’t set me alight with fiery rage but the kind that had me preening inside knowing I’d managed to one up him, if only for a moment.

“I must say, I cannot quite explain with words the disbelief I felt upon discovering that a police officer just looted my office desk and so shamelessly stole from me. And right on camera too,” Yoongi’s voice was amused, laced with little puffs of laugh, “How very naughty of you, detective.” He tsked at me playfully, but there was something else in his voice. Something that took me embarrassingly long to recognise, something that for a brief confusing moment made me strangely proud and happy and then promptly filled me with dread. Awe. Respect. Yoongi was delighted with what I’d done.

“But very good, officer,” the man continued, completely oblivious to my inner turmoil, “Well played. And now we’ve switched roles, haven’t we? Now you have something of mine.” I felt like I was hit with a bucket full of ice, something freezing and acidic setting into the pit of my stomach and making my insides churn. I sat there, totally petrified, watching the dark-haired man sitting behind the massive desk like he owned half the world and all the people in it. And with terror I realised, he did.

“But because I am so gracious and because, as you put it, I have an endless supply of illegal shit,” he winked quickly, using the words I’d told him just few weeks earlier while giving him a parking ticket, “I’ll allow you to keep it. No need to return. What’s a tracker or two between friends, isn’t that right officer?”

I finally managed to school my expression, reacting to his lopsided smirk with a steely cold grin of my own as we stared each other down, completely ignoring the presence of another person in the room with us. Inside I stoked the fires of anger and annoyance I felt all the times we’ve interacted before, anything to override the horror that gripped me at how genuinely proud I was for a moment knowing I did something he truly had to respect.

“We’re many things, Min Yoongi,” I growled out, “But friends definitely isn’t one of them.” To that he only lazily smirked my way, leaning back into his chair.

“Aren’t we?” he asked jovially, “Isn’t a part of what friends do that they keep each other’s secrets? We’ve been doing a very good job of that lately.” I scowled at him, but before I could say anything, he continued.

“Speaking of that,” he drawled out, “I’m quite disappointed with you. I thought you’d have my file memorised, but obviously you don’t keep that much of a close eye on me.” There was a beat of silence during which I only looked at him mildly irritated and confused, not knowing where this jab was coming from.

A giggle to my right pulled my eyes there and I once again found myself under the intense scrutiny of Jimin’s eyes. His were sharply watching our exchange, some sort of dark joy setting into them making me shudder.

“You forgot hyung’s birthday,” Jimin drawled out, fake pouting at me. He was once again putting on the act he had when I arrived here and I narrowed my eyes at him, now more confident and definitely angrier than I was before.

“I waited for whole two weeks, thinking you’d bring it up, but I see that it completely slipped your mind,” Yoongi immediately jumped on, the two men sending each other giggly looks and I realised they were taking the piss out of me. The fight drained out of me and instead I committed to memory how Yoongi seemed to be more relaxed today and even joked around like this with Jimin, joining in on his mischief. I wondered if it was because it was Jimin or because it was due to today’s circumstances, but he was different and it had my insides twist in a confusing cocktail of emotions.

“The only time I’ll wish you happy birthday is after I’ve put you behind bars,” I say, making my voice as impassive and steady as possible, throwing in a little weak but still hopefully mean smile. Yoongi’s eyes on me sharpened a little, the smirk growing darker, as if he was challenging me, as if he was both amused by and supportive of my resolution.

“Well, it looks like I’ll never hear those two words from you, but don’t worry,” he gave me another wide grin, “when your birthday comes in autumn, I’ll be the first to congratulate you.”

I didn’t like to think about how close I was skirting the boundary with Yoongi, that there were lines smudging from a police officer and a criminal into just rivals ribbing each other and egging each other on, trying to irritate the other more every time they meet. When I met him with him, I rarely tried to do any constructive helpful investigating, instead we just barked at each other and threw jabs around until one of us grew too irritated to continue. I wasn’t particularly proud of myself in those moments.

The moment I walked into his world, I ceased to be a detective and turned into a little annoying brat just trying to provoke a guy I didn’t like.

The last time we saw each other was a huge breakthrough for me in this regard. I realised just how much I was playing with fire, smudging those lines. I had to be able to keep my head on straight when we talked, I had to pay more attention to useful details instead of trying to get a rise out of him. I had to go back to square one and reassess the situation, find a clear goal and only interact with him in a way that helps me reach it.

The strange feelings surrounding Yoongi’s sudden clear sign of approval of my ways, that I rather decided not to unpack yet. I decided to stay away for some time anyway, and it would help me avoid this for as long as possible.

That’s how I found myself sitting in my room one Saturday evening, staring at the fucking map wall in my apartment surrounded by files upon files detailing cruel and vicious murders. Since my map was quite full with the information I gathered from my unlawful loitering (as Jungkook once put it when he bumped into me around the office building), and adding more unrelated info to it would only make it messy, I bought another map.

I cleared out another wall, shuffling furniture away, taking down pictures and decorations so I would have enough space for a fucking murder map. Right across from my bed. I got to wake up to this every day, lucky me. But it helped me orientate myself between everything that was brought up. And this one at least felt a little more temporary.

I started with Yoongi’s, moving some strings around. Removing Hoseok’s bright yellow string from the Songhyeong-dong warehouse, I sighed as I remembered that whole fiasco. It was probably safe to say that he either didn’t have his base there, or he barely spent his time there anyway and thus it wouldn’t be very useful. But he had to have some office, otherwise it would be impossible to keep up with everything. Yoongi and Namjoon had their offices, Taehyung’s was in Pied Piper and Jimin’s in the Rose, Jin had his practice, on Jungkook’s I had a hunch – the only one I still had no clear address on was Hoseok. And I wasn’t even sure where he lived. I knew he moved about the docks during the day a lot, but he had to have a base.

But there was always a possibility that Hoseok’s office was shared with their youngest, which was a member of the gang that I explored the least. First of all, he was impossible to trail, but that might have been when I still had the tracker on so it could be worth another try. The second part was the one that truly kept me away from him though. He didn’t hesitate to show his distaste in me, and I already started to catch wind of how he and Yoongi butted heads when it came to how much I was allowed to engage. Thus, if he caught me focusing on him, it could potentially have some devastating consequences and I was hesitant to risk that.

But – I knew where he could have his office. I mean, it must have been there unless they pulled a fast one and put him into the same building as Yoongi and Namjoon, which I thought I would have noticed by now.

Jungkook was the owner of a security company, the one that kept an eye on Yoongi and employed his closest bodyguards, like that guy that brought me coffee while I was staking out Hoseok that I later found in the military database as Choi Soobin, one of the top operatives of Jungkook’s company. He owned it in the same way that Taehyung owned the Pied Piper or Jimin owned The Rose, but from some surface digging it seemed this business was one that Yoongi directly interacted with the least.

Hoseok was formally employed by a shipping company under Yoongi’s wide wings of corporations, but their headquarters were a small rundown building by the Bukseong Dock and when I was messing around there, I didn’t see him come in once. And if their job in the gang was truly so similar, it would make sense that Hoseok would also be stationed in Jungkook’s company, also considering it was much closer to the centre and thus closer to Yoongi and the others, which the port wasn’t.

I would have to investigate that properly, bite the bullet and follow around Jungkook for a while and see whether I would have more luck in locating the ever so elusive sunshine of the group. Problem was more that I would never be allowed to come in like with Yoongi’s office. Even if Hoseok was as forthcoming as Taehyung and Jimin, Jungkook would never allow that unless I brought the proper paperwork or had a legitimate reason for my visit. I doubt I’d make it past the reception.

I jotted this all down around the map and moved on to the other a little smaller one that was now occupying the neighbouring wall. For that one I brought a whole new set of pins and colourful strings as I would need a lot of colours. I spent the last two days going through the extra cases Sunmi and Seungcheol brought over, not eliminating anything yet and just soaking up the information.

So, that night, I spent hours meticulously going through each file and marking the place on the map along with a note with the victim’s name, date of murder and manner of death. It was a gruesome and macabre way of spending my evening, but I had to see it all before me like this to start making sense of anything.

I ended up with fifteen additional spots across the whole of Seoul, each marking a murder potentially linked to my “friend” Min Yoongi. Lastly, I added in the pin and information for our main case, the multiple homicide that kickstarted all of this.

Roughly I went across the areas that I knew were around Yoongi’s businesses and therefore “his turf” with a red marker, already seeing some overlay. Unfortunately I didn’t have that much of an extensive knowledge on Kim’s turf, but I’d fill it in eventually. For now, I focused on trying to see whether any of the murders took place around any places I knew were owned by the Min gang and when I found some, I marked them with a big red circle. Those would be my priority.

Huffing out a tired sigh, I went to sleep that night with a heavy heart and brain that just wouldn’t shut up.

Monday morning it was finally time to meet up with Seungcheol and Sunmi at the scene of the murder, as they were preoccupied before now. I could barely sleep the night before, both nervousness about seeing it and excitement about being involved not letting me have a peaceful night. Even though the place must have been long since cleaned up, I still never went to an active crime scene like this before and my stomach was tied up in knots knowing I was about to walk somewhere people have been murdered.

Thus I found myself nervously shuffling from foot to foot in front of the warehouse at 6 am, a whole hour before our agreed time. I told myself I would at least check out the perimeter, but really I wouldn’t be allowed anywhere in without a warrant and all the paperwork was with Minjoon. In my arms I nervously clutched the copied files, the contents burning through to my sweaty hands. I spent some time looking around the port, finding my gaze straying south ever so often.

Just the little pond across, there was the cursed Songhyeon-dong warehouse. If I strained my eyes real hard I could almost see its roof laughing at me and reminding me of my shame. Yoongi’s warehouses were mainly in that area, with the bigger one in Songhyeon-dong and a few others scattered through Dong-gu and Manseok-dong. He pretty much ruled over the Bukseong Dock area and it was as firmly his turf as it could be, while the Kims mainly kept themselves to the smaller Bukhang Port just above.

The docks were a subject of huge contention between the two gangs, and while they supposedly talked it out and put the conflict to rest, anyone could see that they weren’t on good terms while pretending to be amicable. The Kims, as the second biggest family ruling over Seoul, have always tried to get rid of Yoongi to move to the top spot, and thus there were many clashes between the two, from which Yoongi every single time emerged victorious. He even took some land from them and pushed them more north. After many years of fighting they finally “made a pact”, but truly it was just a promise to keep out of each other’s way.

The ports being this close together only continued to bring up more tensions though, as they were practically stepping on each other’s toes.

If the assumption was true and this murder was the mark of a starting war, we were potentially entering a truly turbulent and truly bloody era in Seoul gang history. I shuddered only thinking about it. Though Yoongi would likely not let himself be dethroned; the fight would absolutely get very ugly very soon. It was in everybody’s best interest that this got dealt with before it got out of hand.

As the violent crime unit arrived a little later, we fell into a comfortable polite small talk, exchanging some jokes tentatively and feeling out the atmosphere between us. When I watched their friendly banter, a pang of jealousy hit my heart again, the disappointment with my own unit’s behaviour still weighing heavy on me, especially when both Seungcheol and Sunmi started asking me about my Academy years and showering me with positive comments and praises about my ranking until I was a blushing giggling mess. For a split second the proud glint in Yoongi’s eyes as he talked about the trackers flashed through my mind and I batted it away so forcefully I almost physically jerked, instead getting filled with guilt and unease. Truly, it was funny how okay I was with committing a crime until Yoongi praised me for it, how pathetically starved for attention and recognition I was that for a shameful few moments I felt pride about it.

Taking a deep breath to calm the raging storm inside me, I tuned back into the excited chatter of the two other officers. I would have time to make this right, but now I had to focus here.

“Are you nervous at all?” Seungcheol asked the moment he noticed me turning my attention to them and I stuttered for a bit, not expecting an immediate question.

“Yeah, I am, a little bit,” I answered him truthfully, looking down at my shoes to avoid the intensity of the topic, “but everybody’s gotta get through it. There’s a first for everything.” I gave them a little uncertain smile and Sunmi patted my shoulder in a cool yet slightly awkward gesture, showing she really wasn’t sure how to approach this situation with enough tact. I laughed at her a little and immediately felt the tension drain, quickly melting into the amicable atmosphere.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said in the end, “and if anything happens, just let us know.” I nodded at her all smiley, muscles much more loose now knowing I wasn’t completely alone here after all. The bitterness at my own unit’s approach still lingered at the edge of my mind, but I tried my best to ignore it and focus on the building before us.

“Did you manage to go through some of the additional cases?” Sunmi spoke up again, watching me casually with her hands hanging off of her jeans pockets. She had a leather jacket on, and her black hair was done in a sort of a messy bun at the back of her head, and I marvelled at how she wasn’t absolutely frying in that, considering the temperatures were steadily and abruptly rising.

“I went through them roughly, but I haven’t started putting them through the database yet,” I answered quickly, maybe a little too eager to speak to someone about the work I’ve done so far, “I put them on a map to see where they took place though. Trying to put into perspective how close they were to Yoon- I mean Min’s establishments.” I cursed myself for the slip up, getting too used to calling him only Yoongi and forgetting that not everyone would be totally cool with me calling him so familiarly when I supposedly wasn’t in contact with him at all. To me he right about now should be only some shadowy dark concept, a phantom that someone else is currently chasing after. Not a very real and very annoying man that I’ve cursed out to his face several times a month since December.

“That’s a pretty good start though,” Seungcheol told me warmly, patting my shoulder, “Once you start going through them properly, keep us updated on anything suspicious that crops up.” I nodded shyly, giving them both a genuine smile and got two very enthusiastic grins back. They continued with the chatter and I kind of listened on half an ear while nervously watching the road for the arrival of others.

Minjoon and Hwang ended up being ten minutes late, rolling up to the warehouse in a station car and with their own copied files of the crime. For a moment we stood there and exchanged yet more pleasantries, but I barely paid attention to whatever was being said. In my mind I kept being pulled to the southern Bukseong Dock, somewhat bitterly pondering whether Hoseok is currently there running around like a busy bee, no care in the world.

Assuming this murder was his work, he really could have done this during lunch break and then cooly return right to his job, like nothing even happened. That’s how close it was.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by Minjoon gently laying his hand on my shoulder and with his head gesturing towards the warehouse. I gave him a queasy smile, nervous about entering and just generally guilty about how I’ve been handling everything, the mounting feeling of standing on the precipice of disaster following me around for the past few days, but I swallowed it all down and followed.

The warehouse was small and stuffy, the atmosphere dark with no real windows and no real way to get light inside. There was some furniture left, mostly pushed away from the middle of the room except for one old green sofa and a rackety desk with a few dusty chairs at the other end of the warehouse. There was a lot of mess lying around on the floor, mostly torn bloodied papers, obviously showing signs of the struggle that took place here.

There was a lot of scruff marks on the floor, along with dark stains covering most of the wearied pavement, and on a second look the sofa had similar streaks over it too. I tried to ignore it, stepping from foot to foot and looking over the remnants of the carnage. Due to the warehouse being closed off, there was still plenty of police tape holding onto the doors and the walls with even though police have already cleared it out.

We all simultaneously opened the files and pulled out the pictures, putting the space into the perspective of the crime. I half listened to Seungcheol and Sunmi go over the details again, talking about how they got the call and how they found the place when they came.

“We checked the perimeter too, but they were already gone by the time we got here,” the brunette said while nonchalantly looking around the space. “They must have been warned and ran,” Minjoon mumbled, but barely even looked up from the file, still going through the information again. Sunmi hummed, stopping by the sofa and turning to look at us.

Seuncheol talked some more about what the scene looked like when they arrived, pictures in hands, and I listened as attentively as I could, but there really wasn’t much added that wasn’t already said, so I just bided my time looking around on my own before we return to the station so I could start going through these other files. I also itched to pull Minjoon aside and ask what about this crime struck the unit as Min’s murders and not the Kim’s, what made them decide that this actually was Yoongi related.

I only tuned back in when the conversation turned to issues I haven’t heard anyone speak on yet. The warrants.

“It’s hard to push them through sometimes,” Sunmi was just saying with all the other men nodding solemnly in agreement when I started paying attention again, at first confused what she meant.

“We haven’t even managed to find an angle to slip by easier,” Hwang suddenly piped in after standing in silence in a corner the whole time, just watching us talk, “We even tried getting the info on who’s on shift when, but still it’s hard for them to come through. We’re still working on getting that issue solved.” I looked confusedly to Minjoon, never before having heard them discuss this.

I knew that a lot of the shit I did with Yoongi wouldn’t be enough to get a warrant authorised by the court. The tracking, the tailing, the taking shit from his office, I had warrants for none of that and as long as there were no warrants, anything I found couldn’t be used in the court for I was technically getting the information illegally. I could maybe send in anonymous tips for the police to investigate, but as a detective I couldn’t be bringing this kind of evidence to the table, that was solely for me and for the purpose of better understanding Yoongi and getting a better angle at taking him down legally.

But I had no idea the unit actually did have trouble with getting legitimate warrants against Yoongi, or whoever they were talking about. In the winter, when I asked, Minjoon said the stake outs weren’t done anymore because it took too much time and manpower and the outcome wasn’t good enough to go through with that (I myself found how tailing them was a thankless job that took weeks for a single piece of information to come out of it, so I understood), but he did mention a brief undercover gig, which would need a warrant. Since then, not much has been happening as it seemed that whatever approach or angle, we would hit a stone wall. Yoongi continued to appear impenetrable.

“It must be someone high up then,” Sunmi mused out loud, a hard expression setting over her face and turning her features into stone, “If the warrants aren’t coming through no matter what day or time, it must be someone high.” That got the men humming in agreement again, a sombre atmosphere falling over the warehouse.

“No matter who it is, we might be having trouble getting things authorised, but I would hope that now that there’s five of us on this and we have two whole units backing us up, that they wouldn’t try to mess with it too much,” Minjoon ended the conversation again, everyone now gearing up to leave.

I heard Sunmi say something to Hwang as they moved towards the main entrance, but I hung back for a moment. I’d begun realising in the past few months that I mostly preferred looking over things by myself, for as much as I craved the community, I found myself focusing better when I was on my own, so I wanted to take one last look before I left, comparing it to the pictures. As my eyes flitted from the pictures to the space, comparing every little thing I could spot, I slowly started fleshing out the crime a little more in my mind, putting it into a real space and studying the before and after.

My brain had already started filtering out the actual violence happening in them and I barely paid notice while I tried to focus on the other smaller details in the background. Most of it remained the same, with the exceptions of some of the mess cleared out and a barrel that was smouldering in the photos was now nowhere to be seen.

I was suddenly brought back into the present when a hand clasped my shoulder and I jumped, mouth opened to yelp and my heart almost beating out of my chest. Minjoon came around me with an amused chuckle, hand still firm where he held, and I gave him an embarrassed smile. I’ve been spacing out so much around them lately and it made me really jumpy, if I didn’t get my shit together quick I’d end up looking like a nervous wreck. Which, to be honest, wasn’t that far from the truth.

But there was something strangely vulnerable about showing my nervousness in this situation and I didn’t feel comfortable enough with Minjoon immediately assuming it was all about the blood and murder, when so many events have been weighing down on me these past few days that he didn’t even know about.

As predicted Minjoon looked at me empathically, eyes softening as he moved to pat my back a little. Then he just gestured towards the door. “We’re about to leave, I’ll drive you to the station,” he offered and started pulling us out without waiting for my response. I let him until we stood outside with his car right in front of us.

“I drove here, so I have to go by my car, but thanks for the offer,” I replied softly, a tight-lipped smile making itself home on my face since the feelings of discomfort haven’t fully left me. I hated being perceived as weak and this whole situation was driving me up the wall, but I fought myself to keep it together.

I looked at Minjoon again and by the look on his face and the unsure curve of his mouth as he was about to open it and speak, I was sure he was going to ask me if I was okay, so I beat him to the punch and directed the conversation elsewhere.

“That before, what you were talking about,” I said firmly, ignoring the look of surprise on his face at getting interrupted before even saying anything, “does that mean that there are moles between the prosecutors?” The man schooled his face well, going with the flow as if this was the direction the conversation was going to take from the beginning, and nodded his head with slight unease hanging onto his posture and aura.

“Yeah, we’ve known for a while, but we cannot identify who it is,” the senior detective confirmed, eyes turning a little hard at the thought, “There’s more of them, some even in our lines, we’re sure of that, but it’s hard to go after moles unless you go full scorched earth.” I agreed absent-mindedly, in head already going through the roster of the prosecutors I’ve encountered.

“It’d make sense that he’d have someone in his pocket,” I mused out loud, “probably someone who makes sure the requests don’t make it too high and get turned around at the first corner.” To that Minjoon just hummed and nodded, the conversation fizzling out. We looked around for a moment, just awkwardly standing there, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Hwang impatiently drumming on the hood of Minjoon’s car, stepping from foot to foot and looking more irritated by the second.

I seized the chance to end this exchange here before Minjoon brought it back around to me or before Hwang finally lost it and found a way to be mad at me for this as well. I clapped my hands together loudly.

“Well, we better go,” I let out with faux cheer and started moving down the road to where my own car stood, leaving a stuttering surprised Minjoon behind. Suddenly a thought popped into my head and I turned around on my heel, surprising the poor man even more when I abruptly back-tracked.

“By the way, there’s something I’ve been wondering,” I started, claiming the detective’s attention once more as he turned to me and stepped a little closer, “how did you realise this was the Mins? When you circled back to it, how did you know?” Minjoon’s face bloomed into a seasoned detective’s smile and I could tell he was battling a little between trying to stay mysterious and giving me a whole lesson on gang violence, and I couldn’t fight my own smile too at watching him struggle.

“I thought about it a little, looked at the crime scene photos again,” Minjoon started explaining, “Kims are more known to use guns, while Mins don’t that much, but they are capable of both. This was a homicide that mixed those together, so it really could have been anyone, but usually the cases that we end up attributing to the Kims have a little different MO.” I looked at him expectantly, hoping he’d expand on that, and I could see on his amused face that he was purposedly keeping me in suspense.

“Well, there’s not much to it really,” he continued finally, “in the few cases that are similar to this that we have and we consider them Kim family territory, they stormed in and probably first overpowered them and seemingly tied them up, based on the positioning of the bodies. While the Mins are always up for some good old-fashioned thrashing, when they don’t have time for clean-up they leave more mess. Which would explain why they’re so focused on the clean-up.”

“So when you came back to this case, it seemed more unorganised than if the Kims were behind it,” I finished for him, putting the two and two together quite easily now that he served it to me on a silver platter. He gave me a cheeky grin and nodded.

“It’s all assumptions, but it’s the idea we have about these two disposal teams. It’s always hard to tell and violence has a way masking things and making everything pretty murky. You never really know, but we still try to put some order into it,” Minjoon brought it all to close. Then he once again opened his mouth to speak more and once again got interrupted before anything could come out, but this time it was by disgruntled Hwang who was by now throwing us pointed glares. He cleaned his throat loudly and gestured towards the car, and both me and Minjoon suddenly burst into motion without any other words spoken, only sending each other a little apologetic look as we moved towards our own cars.

I ended up sitting there for a moment longer, once again going through the file of the homicide and this time truly looking at the bodies and their placement. This truly was just pure violence, but now looking at it through Minjoon’s eyes and seeing it as the more violent violence, I still couldn’t fully put it into perspective. The feeling of unease returned, and I quickly turned the pages until I was reading through the report for the thousandth time.

Evidence retrieved from the scene: barrel used to dispose of paperwork. Analysis inconclusive, nothing restored. Well, at least one mystery was solved.

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Taglist (open): @wobblewobble822 @viankiss @jjkwifestyle @mortal-body-timelesssoul @fullmetalavatar54

@ot72025 @jalexad @eleni-cherie @m00njinnie

[worldstarz]

hiii,

just saw your post where you offered to write requests. if it's okay, i'd like to request a gn!knight!reader / kaeya in a platonic/acquitances relationship, please. something about the reader being closed-off and isolated due to their shyness, and kaeya bringing them out of their shell. only if you want to, ofc. <3

i wish you well. ♡

swords and death afternoon

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

pairing: platonic!kaeya + gn!reader

cw: alcohol use, vomiting (dw this is lighthearted i swear), idk how to write swordfights!

a/n: i’m SO sorry this took so long to finish!!!!!! turns out moving + being an engineering student is not for the weak (me)!! anyway i finally have some semblance of free time, so hopefully i can churn out the other requests. i love writing kaeya so i enjoyed every second of writing this mwah thank you anon

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“oho, i’ve been wanting to cross blades with you.”

your grip around the wooden handle of your training sword slacked. after a long day of training, you were certain someone like kaeya would surely be easy to spar with.

this was long, long ago–before the two of you were considered actual knights. the instructors were weeding out the last of their candidates, and there was no way in hell you were going to group yourself with the half-assed knights-in-training. the captains felt certain kaeya would become a knight, much like his brother, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to grow lazy by the end of the day.

his firm, crystal blue eyes reflected the setting sun behind you, the two of you wrapping in a hazy, orange glow. 

“you prefer to speak with your sword, eh? well, come at me.” his cocky smirk aside, you knew better than to underestimate him. 

eyes were on you. ever so charismatic and unpredictable, you knew being in his presence always brought along attention, which is why you prefer not to associate with him.

your shoulders stiffen, heart beating rapidly in your chest, and yet you hadn’t even taken a step forward. the whispers around the two of you weighed heavy in your mind as you dig your heel into the ground. he would come to you, not the other way around.

a glint of acknowledgement in his eyes, he charges, his wooden sword ripping through the air. you were faster, pivoting on the heel of your foot to evade. his sword quickly angled diagonally, but came into contact with your block, a deep *thunk* resonating in the contact between the wood. 

your swords met again and again, and just when you thought you had the advantage, you failed to follow up with a parry.

he caught onto your miscalculation sooner than you, taking your moment of weakness to bring his sword down and strike at your ankle, causing you to lose your balance and fall backwards.

“dammit!” you hissed as you made contact with the ground, your sword escaping your grip. Kaeya triumphantly stood over you with his perpetual smirk, tapping your forehead with the tip of the sword. “well played. i believe this is the first time i’ve heard your voice.” 

he pulled his sword back, reaching out to you with his other hand to help you up. begrudgingly, you accept, but you don’t respond to his last comment. 

“perhaps i overestimated your abilities?” he says, walking alongside your futile attempt to leave the grounds on your own. your expression hardens, and he laughs. “don’t look at me like that, i’m only teasing!”

ignoring the way your eyebrows furrow, kaeya continues. “i worked up quite a sweat against you. how about we spar together more often?”

he’s met with silence. 

his eyebrow quirks. “nervous? don’t be. what about a new, polished sword in exchange for your time on the field?”

you stop in your tracks.

it’s a deal.

you’ve always been very perceptive of your surroundings. while kaeya wasn’t anyone special, you noticed the way he was able to talk his way through almost anything–including your tough exterior, which you realized far too late. 

“nooo, i can handle one more, come on!!” if it weren’t for the bustling weekend crowd, the drunkards across the tavern would’ve been able to hear kaeya’s whines.

“you’ve drank enough. rosaria, i’m cutting off your drinks too,” diluc, the more composed of the two ragnivindr brothers, smoothly took the bottle of “death afternoon” off the counter as he continued on his way to the storage room.

sat between your two alcoholic friends, you mark a tally on your notepad—a thin, straight stroke to go along with the 13 other tallies under rosaria’s side. a measly eight strokes adorned kaeya’s side. he was about 13 drinks in, with the 14th taken by his “fun-spoiling” brother, but with his speech beginning to slur at the 8th drink, you decided that was his mark of defeat. 

“rosaria wins. again.” you state this with no emphasis, no surprise. it was impossible for rosaria to get drunk, no matter how many drinking competitions kaeya begs to have with her.

rosaria, completely unphased, took another sip of her drink. “you would think he learned his lesson by now.” 

meanwhile, kaeya’s drunken rambles grow increasingly fervent. “how—my own brother! this is so unfairrr!” he complains rather dramatically, his arms waving around over the bar.

“kaeya, it’s your bedtime,” you tease, stepping down from your seat off the counter, slipping your coat on.  he protests and whines, but his intoxicated self does little to fight back as you drag him away from the bar. rosaria gives you an apologetic look as the both of you nod your goodbyes to each other. 

“are y’gonna read me a bedtime story?” kaeya’s words slur, a mischievous glint in his (now singular) eye. 

you roll your eyes, supporting his stumbling frame against your shoulder. “whatever. keep moving.”

he continues to ramble about how much diluc spoils all of his fun, and how he’s “for sure” going to win against rosaria next week. he keeps himself plenty entertained, even with your lack of responses. 

suddenly, he stops, holding an arm over his stomach.

this isn’t the first time, and likely not the last. 

cursing under your breath, you hurriedly lead him to a hidden alleyway. almost instantly, he keels over, the contents of his stomach dumping out into the dirt.

you move his hair away from his face with one hand and soothingly pat his back with the other. “you overdid it again,” you mumble, the acidic scent of vomit and pungent alcohol.

you look behind you at the street, then back to kaeya. “don’t worry, no ladies are around.”

his response of a weak laugh is cut off by another heave, though nothing comes out. 

a slight tinge of guilt rests in the bottom of your stomach, and it begins to rise to the back of your throat. 

with another laugh, more sober than before, he keeps his head low, a trail of saliva falling from his lips to the earth below. “i’m glad you’re here.” 

“where’s that coming from?” you can’t really make out his expression. you let go of his hair, tearing fabric from your coat, then offering it to him.

with a bit of hesitation, he accepts, using the fabric to wipe his face. “you didn’t have to.”

“it’s fine. i’m…sorry. i should’ve stopped you after the eighth drink.”

“no need for an apology,” he chuckles, lifting his head. “how about you tag along in my rematch against rosaria?” 

how childish. ignoring the corners of your lips quirking up, you stand up, offering a hand to kaeya. “let’s go home first.” 

[crikeygatormate]

I Promise - K.B

Summary: After your clan had been exiled and shunned from the western lands, your family grew to hate the royal family who they felt betrayed them. In return you were sent on a mission to reclaim your families honor, but you would come to find out that your mission came with a price.

Dragon Prince!Bakugou x AFAB Reader

Warnings: Spelling just pretend its right lol

A/N: thought Id post this FINALLY its been in my docs for months, and I've been so busy with school lord but I did it. (Not because I got a whole ass 30 on one of my exams lmao dw the class average was a 40, but still needed that little bit of serotonin that comes with posting things here lmao) Also dont clown me on the banner I've got like 2 functioning brain cells rn

PART ONE (Part Two) (Part Three)

————————————-

Growing up you were told stories about the royal dragon riders out west, where the land was vast and dragons as big as castles soared above the sky with a rider on their back. Sometimes you could have sworn you heard the deep rumble of a dragon's roar from somewhere up in the distance. You’d look up at the sun, squinting in hopes to see a shadow of a beast block out the light.

Your clan used to be dragon riders too a long time ago before dragons were only given to royals. Granted, you didn’t know the exact history or that it was your clan who had caused their own downfall and loss of its dragons. Shrouded by the innocence of youth you failed to see the consequences that this downfall had on your clan, the famine, the pestilence, the anger.

You heard stories about how the great dragon queen cast out her right-hand man, your grandfather, due to his so-called betrayal of her trust. This was because the queen became fond of a group of barbarians from the north that wanted an alliance. Your grandfather had advised against it, insisting that she was being used, and it would lead to the downfall of her family. The queen refused your grandfather's advice, which left him to his own devices. He attempted to kill her intended, the king of the barbarian group, which in turn got him exiled. In time his predictions came true and the barbarian group took over for a time, trying to claim the throne for themselves.

Still ever loyal, your grandfather came to the queen's aid, only to have been killed by the queen herself. It was said that your grandfather tried to kill her children and their dragons, in hopes to wipe the barbarian line from the royal family. He managed to kill two, leaving the queen with one child. Your clan refused to believe this, claiming that your grandfather was attacked and killed trying to help his queen.

As punishment, the royal family butchered your clans dragons and pulled all resources to survive as well. Leaving your family to struggle to survive in a barren land.

As the years passed, a small farming village was built where your family was exiled, and other rouges and outsiders moved into town. It became a town of thieves, murderers, and other criminals. Your family never forgot where you came from and the betrayal that fell upon them.

At night, when you were young, your mother would sit you down while she dressed you retelling that tale over and over again till it was ingrained in your brain and you understood that the dragon riders out west, the royals, were traitors and needed to be brought to justice.

—-----------

You were eight currently, playing hide and seek with a few friends after the announcement of your future role in the clan, the infiltrator. Not that you knew what that meant yet.

“Hey!” your friend, Shoji, called from further back in the wheat field, “you’re going too far, Koda isn’t going to be able to find you!”

You giggled, slapping a hand over your mouth as you sprinted through the field, trying to contain your excitement. With another quiet shriek of laughter, you turned your head to see your friend jumping up past the tall grass trying to spot you.

Unbeknownst to you, there was someone crouched right in front of you, and you ran right into them.

“Ouch!” A raspy voice snapped as you face planted into the grass. “Watch where you’re going!”

You sniffled, lifting your face from the ground and wiping your palm over your eyes to get rid of dirt. “Sorry, I didn’t see you,” you said as you blinked, your gaze focusing on a boy in front of you.

“Clearly,” he scoffed, rolling his vermillion eyes.

You nodded, taking in the stranger's appearance. He was dressed weirdly, and painted with strange marks on his bare arms. His clothes were lighter , meant for a place that was used to warmer weather. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” the boy snorted, folding his arms over his chest, “you really don’t know?”

You shook your head, straightening out the stained shirt you were wearing.

“Of course, you don’t, you’re one of those traitor’s family members, you got those orange eyes like the elders say” the boy said as he spat on the ground much to your surprise. “I’m Katsuki Bakugou, prince of the western lands, soon to be the king once I get my dragon.”

Your eyes widened, and you weren’t sure what to say.

Bakugou nodded, “I know, probably your first time being around someone like me.” He had his chest puffed out. Clearly, your lack of response had stoked his small ego.

You furrowed your brows, “traitor?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, “look,” he paused waiting for you to tell him your name before continuing, “I’m sure this must come as a shock, but your people out here have all been exiled for being traitors-”

“We’re not traitors, you are,” you shot back, eyes growing wide as your mother's story about the royal dragon riders finally started to piece together in your mind.

Bakugou sneered, curling his upper lip to reveal a set of pointed canine teeth, “hah, keep telling yourself that.”

You balled your hands into fists, feeling anger for the first time in your life it seemed as you stared this snotty royal boy down. A darker part of you seemed to awaken and you suddenly felt the urge to smack his pompous smirk off his face.

He didn’t even have time to react before he noticed you lunging at him with a raised hand. However before you could even land a blow on him, a pair of arms yanked you back.

“Quit it you insolent child,” your mother hissed, holding you close to her as you thrashed. She was looking to the sky, feeling fear settle in her veins like ice when a shadow momentarily blocked out the sun.

You were too busy exchanging insults with Bakugou to notice a giant golden dragon land behind Bakugou, or see his mother slide off her dragon's back and stomp towards you three.

“Katsuki!” a shrill voice cut through your haze of anger and suddenly you froze at the sight of a woman, presumably the queen, and her dragon. A puff of hot air blew your hair back and a primal fear sank into your gut.

“You know better than to wander this far,” the queen hissed, glancing at you and your mother. By the bitter look on her face, she clearly recognized your mother. “And you,” she said harshly, pointing a slim finger at your mother, which prompted her dragon to let out a low growl, “keep your offspring away from mine, that child is feral. Don’t think I didn’t see her try to attack the prince. A crime like that is punishable by death.”

Your mother was collected as a wry smile tugged at her lips, “Mitsuki, what makes you think it was my child that started this squabble?”

“Because I know you, and I know your type,” Mitsuki snapped, grabbing Bakugou roughly by his spiky hair, making him whine. “Stay the fuck away from us, the second I catch wind that any of you traitors crossed the border, I’ll have you all burned alive.”

Your eyes were wide as you watched Bakugou smirk as his mom dragged him away and they both got on her dragon. You don’t think you’d ever forget the glare that the queen gave you as her golden dragon took off into the sky.

Dirt bellowed around you and your mom as powerful wings pushed the air around you, you squinted, digging your nails into the skin of your mother's arm.

“Do you understand now?” your mother asked, her voice even as you both watched the dragon fly into the distance towards the west.

You nodded, feeling a bitter feeling settle into the pit of your stomach.

—----------

Many years passed, and throughout those years you trained, fell into your role as the infiltrator. The one that was supposed to regain your clan's power, regain your dragons. You were the only one able to do this, it was destiny it seemed. And it was because you had a dragon.

On your thirteenth name day, you were presented with something that had been hidden since your grandfather was exiled. It was a small dragon egg, your grandfather had stolen it before he was killed, took it from the royal clutch, in hopes that it would serve his family well.

It was doubtful that the egg would hatch, but it did. Your dragon grew to be large and fueled by your anger she had become lethal, like you. She was a deep army green with amber eyes and a double set of teeth. She was snake-like, long, and slender with an ear-piercing roar that made you sometimes wince at the whistle of it.

You both grew up together, bonding over a common goal, feeling each other's anger towards the royals. Now you were an adult, old enough to go out on your own and complete your mission that has been planned for decades.

“Are you ready?” your mother asked as she straightened your top.

You nodded, blinking hard as she ran her cold fingers over your bare stomach where a large scar ran across the lateral length of your skin. A training accident, at least that’s what it was called, but it was a reminder of what could happen if you were to fail.

“Good,” your mother said as she took a step back, “prince Katsuki is out on his dragon patrolling this evening. We know his dragon is not a usual one, he is a shifter, which makes him susceptible to silver. We have a trap set down by the ravine, they should fly right into it.”

You nodded, keeping your gaze forward as your dragon shifted behind you, her growl rumbling into a whistle.

“Get going,” your mother said as she handed you a dagger, it was your grandfather’s.

You kept silent as you climbed on your dragon's back and urged her forward. You felt numb as she took off into the evening sky, the orange of the setting sun illuminating her scales. She was let out a wheezing breath as he turned past a cloud and the ravine came into the distance.

You landed in a cave that was specifically scouted for this mission, and there you both waited, two sets of amber eyes pointed towards the sky awaiting the prince.

Soon you heard the unmistakable roar of a dragon and a flash of deep red appeared briefly through the broken clouds.

It was him, Prince Bakugou.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you watched him descend towards the trap set out. It was meant to look like a threat from a neighboring nation. One that had been having issues with the dragon's riders of the west, a more civilized nation that was moving past the need to be controlled by those who ride dragons. In other words, the royals knew if this nation continued to grow, so would their weapons. Which meant they could become a threat to their dragons.

“Fuckin’ shitty scales, just land, damn it,” Prince Bakugou’s gruff voice echoed off the cold ravine walls.

You watched as his dragon landed and shook his head while Bakugou slid off. To your interest, his dragon shook again, changing forms and turned into a man. A big one with a long red tail, horns, and a set of red wings.

Dragon shifters were rare, rarer than dragons themselves, and for Prince Bakugou to have one as his dragon, meant that he was special. Which gave your goal an even greater weight.

“Wadda you think happened?” the shifter asked as he stepped over a few burning logs.

“Looks like it was the north,” Bakugou said with a scoff as he kicked a skull that went tumbling down the rocks till it shattered.

You stiffened, feeling your muscles bunch as you waited for the next part of the plan. A member of your clan, Shoji, the best archer, was in place to shoot Bakugou’s dragon with a silver-tipped arrow. He only had one.

With bated breath, you waited to see Shoji peek out from on top of the ravine. After a heartbeat, you noticed a flash of wood, and before you could blink a pained roar echoed around the ravine.

You froze for a moment watching the shifter crumple to the ground screaming as smoke curled from the arrow wound. But then your training kicked in and you took off, grabbing onto your dragon as she slid down the side of the ravine. Her claws scraped against the slate stone sending shards tumbling down below. She huffed, wheezing before leaping off the side and landing squarely in front of Bakugou and his dragon.

It took him no time at all to react and he instantly pulled his blades out, red eyes aflame with alarm and anger. “Who the fuck are you?”

You slide off the side of your dragon's thin back and landed on the charred ground, ash billowing around you. “Someone that can help, if you don’t treat that immediately, he’ll die.”

“Katsuki,” the shifter whimpered, his face paling.

Bakugou hesitated, glancing at your dragon. It was strange looking, long and slender with pointed features. An odd color too, he’s only known of red, gold, and orange dragons. He didn’t have time to ponder though, Kirishima needed help. “Do it.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief knowing that everything was going to plan. You wasted no time kneeling by Kirishima, eyeing his wound. His blood was bubbling around the tip of the arrow and evaporating into foul-smelling smoke. In one swift movement you yanked the arrow out, not flinching as Kirishima roared. With the arrow gone, you proceeded to pull the bag that was around your back to your side where you quickly found the antidote to neutralize the silver in his body.

“Here,” you said, “open his mouth.”

Bakugou glanced at you once more before prying open Kirishima’s jaws and watching your pour a strange-colored liquid down his dragon's throat. However, he was shocked to see Kirishima’s wound immediately stop smoking.

Kirishima let out sigh of relief, shutting his eyes as he took a deep breath.

“There,” you said as you capped the bottle and placed it back in your bag, “that should be good for now, he’ll need another dose in the morning. He won’t be able to shift back either, not till that is healed,” you told Bakugou while eyeing the wound.

Bakugou hummed, glancing at you again, “great. Now, answer my question, who the fuck are you?”

You frowned, “you don’t remember?”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, “am I supposed to?”

You huffed, “of course you don’t, look, you and I got into a argument when we were kids? You wandered out too far, started acting like a dick - still act like one.”

“Do you have any clue who I fuckin’ am?” Bakugou snarled, getting ready to press his blade against your throat.

You gave him a wry smile, “Prince Katsuki Bakugou, how can I forget it a second time.”

Recognition flashed across Bakugou’s face as he looked at you again. Were you that mangy girl that got pissed at him for telling her that her family were traitors? He shifted his gaze towards your face, taking note of your orange eyes, which told him that you were indeed from the family that betrayed his.

“Remember now?” You asked as you glanced down at Kirishima again who was phasing in and out of consciousness. And then to your utter surprise he said your name. It made you still your hands on Kirishima and look at him. “So you do remember?”

Bakugou didn’t nod, instead he narrowed his eyes. “How did someone like you get a hold of a dragon?”

You shrugged, “Luck.”

“That’s not the answer I was looking for, you must have stolen it, traitor,” Bakugou hissed, suddenly moving towards you at an incredible speed.

You were somewhat caught off guard as he slammed you into the ground, pinning you down with his knee on your chest and the blade of his sword pressed against your neck. “I didn’t steal anything.”

“Yeah fuckin’ right, only my family has dragons,” he snarled, pressing the sword further into your neck, causing the skin to split under his blade. A few scarlet drops of blood slid down the side of your neck and dripped onto the ashen earth.

At the sight of this your dragon growled, slinking forward towards Bakugou. A wheezing hiss escaped her as she opened her mouth. The back of her throat started to brighten to a electric green threatening to breathe her fire on the prince, not that it would do much to him.

Bakugou stilled, glancing at your dragon. He had never seen green fire before. He looked down at you again, you were collected, watching him with a cool expression. Perhaps you were telling the truth. There have been tales of dragons far south, those of a different species than the royal line.

Your heart was in your throat as you watched him assess you. He was breathing hard, his chest was heaving as he tightened his grip around his sword. Then to your relief he moved off of you and sheathed his weapon.

“You’re coming back with me,” Bakugou announced, “to finish healing Kirishima and then to be questioned.”

This part was important, you couldn’t easily go with him, or it’d be suspicious. So you sat up, rigid and with eyes wide, “questioned? I just saved your dragon?”

“I don’t trust you,” Bakugou said with a hiss through clenched teeth. “Something about this is wrong, and I’d be fuckin’ stupid to let you go. Especially when you are the only other dragon rider in the country who isn’t part of the royal family. My family.”

You frowned, standing up and folded your arms across your chest. “Look-”

“No, you look,” Bakugou hissed, jamming his finger into your shoulder, “you don’t get a fuckin’ option. Get on your dragon we’re leaving.”

You yelped when he roughly grabbed you by the upper arm and practically threw you towards your dragon. With a huff of irriatiton you regained your balance and climbed on your dragon’s back. You watched as Bakugou hauled Kirishima over his shoulder and to your surprise managed to get on behind you, securing Kirishima between the both of you and your dragons spikes. With a hissing whine your dragon crawled forward, speeding up before she pushed herself off from the ground.

Her leathery wings extended and ash plumed around her form as she rose up higher in the sky. She didn’t fly exactly like a normal dragon would, she would weave through the air, tucking her wings in before extending them to propel herself forward again.

It wasn’t a smooth ride to put it simply.

You glanced back behind you to see Bakugou pinning Kirishima down with his upper body while he held onto the large spikes on your dragons back. He looked pissed, probably because he wasn’t used to riding bare back, at least that’s what you assumed.

It didn’t take very long to enter the western lands, and you could immediately tell that you had left your homeland due to the dramatic change in scenery.

The terrain became plush with pine forests, with trees as tall as some of the castles you heard from the elders in your town. The earth was covered with plush grass too, and the forests would break away to vast meadows with rolling hills, covered with hundred of wild flowers.

Your eyes widened at the sheer beauty the western lands held. It was warm here too, the sun had blessed these lands and all its creatures. In fact, you had never seen so much wildlife before in your life. There were herds of elk migrating north, and so many birds that were all different colors, you didn’t even know that so many animals existed.

In your town the only animals were pests, and a few scraggly farm animals that helped to feed the people. Your home was full of dry cracked earth, dead fields of straw grass, and swampy bogs that sucked and devoured any life form that entered them. The sun was shrouded by clouds and a perpetual dust seemed to hang heavy in the air.

You glanced back at Bakugou quickly, your amber gaze catching his crimson ones. A bitter feeling rose like bile in your throat and you quickly realized that you were jealous of where he grew up, and angry that his family had taken the opportunity for you to grow up in the western lands away too.

Soon a clearing near the foot of a mountain came into view. There you were able to see a large town, clearly a nomadic one, but the quality of the tents told you that the royal family and its people didn’t have much to worry about.

As you flew closer to the clan you began to notice the common people running out in groups, alarmed that a dragon, and not one they were familiar with, was about to land in their home.

With a wheezing sigh, your dragon landed, her nostrils flaring as she warily watched the three other dragons resting by the royal tent. You watched them too, hesitating to get off in case you needed to leave quickly.

“They won’t hurt you,” Bakugou said as he looked towards the trio of fire colored dragons. One a deep gold, his mothers. Another a pale yellow, his fathers. The final one, a rusty orange, his grandmothers.

You nodded, about to say something but he had already gotten off your dragon and was carrying Kirishima towards the royal tents, there were four of them. The people cried out his name and Kirishima’s, obviously concerned about who you were and what had happened to Bakugou’s dragon.

“C’mon,” Bakugou called out, not bothering to look back at you, “leave your dragon, she won’t be harmed. For now at least.”

“Comforting,” you muttered as you got off your dragon and gave her a quick pat on the neck. She grumbled, lowering her head to the ground as she watched you follow the prince with unblinking eyes.

As you followed behind Bakugou you glanced at the common folk. They were all dressed similar, wearing clothes lined with furs, and various skins. They looked well fed, well rested…happy.

You narrowed your eyes as they continued to watch you follow their prince, and you didn’t miss the whispers amongst them. They too knew of the tales between your clan and Bakugou’s, and how your family was know to have amber eyes.

Your lip curled in irritation as they exchanged snide comments about your family.

Traitors, murderers, thieves, cowards.

—---

Bakugou had you wait outside of a tent that was guarded by two warriors before allowing you to come inside. With a sharp inhale you entered the tent, pushing the door flap out of your way as you walked forward.

The inside of the tent was huge, bigger than the home you grew up in. The ground was covered in plush furs, and there was enough room for a large bed and a table. The tent walls were home to various weapons, swords, axes, and a few spears. Along with a few exotic pelts and horns from animals.

At the sound of a pained groan you turned your head to see Kirishima curled up on a makeshift bed of pelts and pillows. That silver, although neutralized for now, would keep him from shifting for another few days.

“Sit,” Bakugou’s gruff voice cut through your thoughts as he yanked out one of the chairs at his table.

You turned your gaze to his as you moved across the room and silently took a seat.

Bakugou sat down in the chair across from you and let out a strained sigh. He looked frustrated, which was not surprising, considered all that had happened within the past few hours. “The queen will be coming in to question you, along with the queen mother-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Mitsuki, the queen, the woman who told you she would burn you and your mother alive, stomped into the tent. Her red eyes were ablaze with a deep anger upon the sight of you.

“You,” she hissed, rushing over to you, about to presumably smack you across the face till a frail voice spoke from the opening of the tent.

“Mitsuki, behave yourself,” an older lady the spitting image of Mitsuki hobbled in. She was frail and thin, but still was proud as she stood tall. The queen mother had to lean heavily on her cane as she made her way over to you, and Bakugou got out of his seat to allow his grandmother to sit.

You remained quiet, your gaze flicking between the two women. This was the most crucial part, to convince the royal family that you were not what they perceived you to be. An infiltrator, someone that was going to come in and wipe out their family line. Someone who was going to take revenge for what they did to your family.

“Now, child,” the queen mother spoke, clearing her throat as she folded her hands together, “what did you do that made my grandson fly you all the way back here, and away from your home?”

“Mother, don’t you know who this is?” Mitsuki hissed, “look at her eyes.”

“I’m well aware,” the queen mother responded curtly, “however, I trust Katuski’s judgment, if she was a threat she wouldn’t be here now would she?”

Mitsuki kept her mouth shut, but she still was glaring at you with such intense hatred that you had a hard time holding eye contact with her.

“Speak,” the queen mother said, gesturing at you with her hand to talk.

“I was in the area, and saw prince Bakugou get attacked, his dragon was injured and I helped him. He told me to come back with him, presumably because Kirishima needs another dose of antidote in the morning to remove the silver from his system,” you explained, keeping your voice even.

“And how did you obtain that dragon out there?” the queen mother asked.

“I found an egg when I was traveling away from home. It looked to be dead, so I thought I could sell it along the trade line by the coast far south,” you began, remembering the lines you rehearsed for years, “but to my surprise it hatched, so I kept it-”

“You have no right to own a dragon,” Mitsuki hissed, “not after what your family did to mine, what your grandfather did to my siblings.”

A muscle in your jaw twitched as you looked at Mitsuki, she had her hand on the hilt of her axe, clearly ready to yank it out and cleave you in two. “It wouldn’t have hatched if I didn’t have a right to it-”

“You bratty bit-”

“Mitsuki!” The queen mother said, her voice straining as she looked at her daughter with wide eyes, “this young woman just saved your son’s dragon, I know you know the weight that carries. We only get one dragon our whole lives, and if Katsuki’s died, he wouldn’t be able to take the throne.”

Mitsuki scoffed, but backed off, knowing her mother was right. “I know, but that still doesn’t mean I trust her, and neither should you mother, or you Katsuki. I know her kind, her mother and I used to be friends. I have seen the evil that grows in her blackened heart, and no doubt she passed it to her daughter.”

With that, Mitsuki turned on her heel and left, clearly through with speaking and looking at you.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. The air in the tent seemed to drop about five degrees too. It was rumored that the Bakugou’s had an affinity for fire too, which would explain how Mitsuki could raise the temperature of the air around her when she was mad.

You quickly glanced at Bakugou, who you had a feeling he had a more fiery temper than his mother, and you could only image how much heat he’d give off if he was mad. A small flicker of fear lit in your stomach as you began to think that this mission you were on was way more dangerous than you had thought.

“Look,” the queen mother spoke up, her voice was beginning to sound tired, “I knew your grandfather, he was a greedy man. He would do just about anything to get what he wanted.”

You remained silent, as feelings of doubt started to swirl in your mind.

“However, as much as our family dislikes yours, we are indebted to you. I can’t punish you for the crimes of your grandfather, and I wouldn’t anyway. Finish healing Kirishima and you may stay with us for a while, or leave it’s up to you, but perhaps it’s time that we try to rekindle the once great friendship between our clans.” The queen mother gave you a dry smile, “that doesn’t mean I don’t trust you either, I don’t make the same mistake twice. That’s why Katsuki will be in charge of you for the duration of your stay-”

“What? I don’t wanna fuckin’ babysit,” Bakugou hissed, shooting you a sharp glare.

Your ever growing fear, though you kept it well hidden, had been curbed somewhat. You had gotten in to their inner circle, so with enough patience you could achieve your goal. At the thought of this the scar on your abdomen seemed to burn and a pair of cold orange eyes flashed in your mind.

You couldn’t fail.

“You will. It will be good for her to learn about us and you to learn about them, Katuski,” the queen mother concluded with a nod, “now I think it’s time that I go have my late morning tea.”

You watched as the queen mother hobbled out of Bakugou’s tent, and you let out a sigh. You were relived that no one had picked up on your growing nerves. It would probably good the queen had left or she surely would have sniffed you out. With another sigh you turned your head and to your surprise you saw that Bakugou was already looking at you. His red eyes were narrowed slightly as he let out a huff.

“C’mon, there’s a spare tent on the outskirts of camp you can stay in,” Bakugou finally said as he pushed past you and slipped through the entrance of the tent.

You still for a moment, and then followed him out. The common people seemed to be more relaxed now. They still gave you some sideways glances as you passed, but it was nothing like from when you first arrived.

It was rather odd seeing Bakugou interact with the common folk too. He of course was prickly, but he’d dip his head to a few elders that would hobble past him, or even let some young kids jump at him and hang off is arms before he roughly tossed them off, making them squeal as they ran back to their tents.

You folded your arms over your chest, eyeing him closely. He was tall, much taller than you and built like a warrior. His arms were thick and strong, and tanned by the warm sun. He had a few milky pink scars that ran down his back along with a few tattoos that adorned his bare torso. His hair was golden, bleached by the sun, and spiky. Yet underneath his mane of hair he had a dark undercut, where you saw a set of scars that looked similar to claw marks run along the nape of his neck.

He would be hard to defeat. Someone like him, who was trained from birth to be a warrior, a prince, and a king. Not to mention the sheer amount of scars and battle tattoos he is no doubt a seasoned warrior. Uncertainty seeded in your mind once more as you both came to a stop outside of a gnarly looking tent. If thats what you could call it.

“You’ll stay here,” Bakugou said, his deep voice clipped with annoyance.

“Hardly call this a tent,” you mused, your gaze jumping from the torn fabric near the bottom of the tent and the worn flap that was barely holding it shut.

Bakugou rolled his eyes, choosing not to respond to your comment. “I’ll see you at dawn.” With that he turned his back to you and left. Not once did he turn his head back to glance at you, and you were glad.

—----------------

The next morning you were woken up before dawn. Not by choice, really, but there was a rather unpleasant groaning that started outside your tent about an hour before dawn. As much as you tried to drown out the sound decided to get up to see what was outside of your tent fussing up a storm.

To your surprise it was Bakugou’s dragon, Kirishima.

“I need more of that stuff, please,” Kirishima groaned.

You looked at the dragon shifter in mild shock. Had he crawled all the way across camp to your tent? With a quick glance at his bare torso, your question was answered, he was covered in dirt. “C’mon,” you finally said and let him inside of your tent.

Kirishima let out a grunt as he crawled behind you before collapsing on the straw mat in the center of your tent. He was panting hard and sweat was rolling down his sides.

You quickly lit the single candle in your tent and pulled out your healing pack, rifling through your various herbs till your found the antidote for Kirishima. The second bottle was much more potent than the first one you gave him, which was on purpose. You needed to be brought back to Bakugou’s clan after all.

Kirishima was watching you with glassy eyes as you moved next to his side and hovered over him. He was grinding his teeth so hard it felt like they would snap. He hissed when you ran your fingertips down his chest towards his wound, your hands were ice cold on his hot skin. “Hurry-”

“Patience,” you said sharply, your orange eyes flick between his face and the wound. Kirishima’s wound while, the silver would cure him, it was already infected. Which wasn’t supposed to happen. You poured the antidote into Kirishima’s mouth and watched him sigh as the last of the silver was broken down.

“Thank you,” Kirishima said quietly, letting out a sigh as he let his eyes shut again.

You frowned, watching as he promptly passed out from sheer exhaustion. His face was flushed pink with fever and it spread down his neck to his chest. That was unnerving to you, your knowledge with medicine was limited. You glanced at the open flap of your tent, the sun was about to break over the horizon which mean Bakugou would be here soon. A few moments passed and you grabbed your bag again, glancing at the wound before pulling out some flowers and a small jar of honey.

While you were busying yourself making a paste for Kirishima’s wound you failed to notice Bakugou sauntering up to your tent. He was dressed for a hunt, with his spear slung over his back. To his surprise he saw that you were up already.

You furrowed your brows as you smashed small marigold flowers into a paste with the honey before turning around only to see Bakugou standing in front of your tent.

“What’s wrong with him?” Bakugou asked, moving the flap to the tent opening aside and ducking before walking inside.

“His wound is infected,” you said, glancing up at him before turning your attention to Kirishima, reaching out to place the mush of herbs and flowers on his wound.

“He can see our healer,” Bakugou said gruffly as he grabbed your wrist roughly to stop you from touching Kirishima.

You wiggled your wrist in his tight grasp. His hand easily wrapped around your entire wrist, and you were sure if he wanted to he could snap it in half. “Sure, but it’s not looking great-”

“I’ll let our healer decide that,” Bakugou interrupted, his eyes were narrowed as he quickly dropped your wrist and then bent down to inspect his dragon. Kirishima twitched in his sleep, letting a hand flop towards Bakugou before letting out a grumble. Bakugou lifted his gaze to you for a moment, and then back at Kirishima. Why would Kirishima come to you? He knew where the healer was.

Bakugou grabbed Kirishima’s forearm before slinging him over his shoulders. “I’ll come back for you,” he said before leaving you again.

[eurydiceryn]

us! chara my sassy lost child

my own interpretation of underswap:

us! chara:

chara replaces frisk so they're now the 8th fallen child. they retain some key characteristics of their og/ut version though (dislikes humanity, has a soft spot for nicer monsters). i heavily see chara as a sassy, firecracker and trouble making child <3

personally, i think of ut! chara as an entity similar to flowey - they have no soul and can't really "feel" love and compassion. depending on what route you as the player takes, they go along with the ride. their beliefs and goals rely on how much exp/lv you've earned. i think of them as a pretty chill souless kid

us! sans:

im not a fan of infantilizing us! sans (honestly this applies to all "papyrus-types"). like chara, he retains some characteristics of his og version. he likes puns (and loves annoying his younger brother with them), a sciency type, and LOVES greasy food ("sans, for the last time, stop buying grillby's overpriced food"). most noticeable difference with his undertale counterpart is that he's a bit more active & more or less has his shit together a lot more than ut! sans.

you can actually die in his boss fight unlike og papyrus. he's aware of what "capturing humans" entail, & he's not really a fan of the whole killing children thing. but y'know, monsterkind just.. needs one more soul don't they? like og papyrus bossfight, you just need to tire him out before he goes "YOU KNOW WHAT, I CAN'T KILL A KID" & spares you.

(if you die thrice in his bossfight, he'll see your expression & just lets you go. he's unnerved & thinks chara's expression will haunt him for the rest of his life)

he can actually make edible food & is popular with snowdin's residents. he has the qualifications to join the royal guard, he just chooses not to. alphys approves of him and would gladly accept him into the team, but eh - he's content with being an unofficial member.

acquaintances with alphys. you could have considered them friends a.. long time ago, but the past is the past. the best big brother - cares deeply for papyrus and his severe lack of friends. pushes the human to hang out w/ him & papyrus (instead of a date).

us! papyrus:

following the trend of retaining some of the og's traits, papyrus can't cook very well. he's slightly above the category of being capable of burning water. he's talented when it comes to making and constructing puzzles - a great engineer tbh. papyrus still has the racecar bed & has dreams of driving one on the surface.

and for the record, he doesn't smoke - it's a lollipop. he's also anxious and socially awkward - guy's got ZERO friends (okay im exaggerating, he does have at least TWO). nevertheless, he's a loser and i love him; a certified babygirl.

similar to ut's events, paps makes a promise to a man behind the ruins' door to guide the human who passes through, and he intends to keep it. unlike ut! sans who tends to watch over the human from a distance (& occassionally intersects with their journey), papyrus is a bit more involved. he keeps chara company during some sections of snowdin/hotland & likes to keep check on them by calling on the cellphone.

although papyrus is lazier and more easy going than ut! papyrus, he's just as compassionate & kind. during his fight's first phase in genocide, he tries to force the human to give up and rethink their ways. his attacks generally consist of blue attacks - a defense; to push you back. he doesn't like the idea of killing someone (even if that someone happened to be the one who killed your brother and all your friends), but if the human does happen to die - it can't be helped.

if you spare him, you don't get dunked on dw. he'll let you off the fight but doesn't allow you to proceed any further. he'll keep blocking your way — the only way to get past him is to kill him. as a result, his bossfight is a lot easier than ut! sans, but still very difficult. when the second phase happens (you attack him when he spares you), he pulls all stops & tries to full on kill you fr.

on a lighter note, he's bffs with undyne. they construct wild and destructive experiments. BESTIES(tm) IN EVERY UNIVERSE <33

(that's all there is for now.. i have plans for the others but i'll post them in due time)

[not-a-big-slay]

Until it doesn't hurt

kaz brekker x fem!reader

summary:betrayal leaves some wounds behind, but even more questions when you can't figured out from whom it really came from.

warnings: violence, cursing

type: fluff

part: 12/13

previous part: part 11 masterlist

a/n: please, please, PLEASEEUHH im SO SO SORRY! it has been almost a FUCKING YEAR SINCE THE LAST CHAPTER?! HELLO?! WHO TF DO I THINK I AM? i need to keep myself in line cuz this aint normal! i have been hiatus for soo long i need to pull it together. anywayy, its finished finally. its long ahh hell and im gonna be working on another part immediately so it wont be another 50 years dw. dont mind any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language and i have written one half of this in 2023, so i really dont feel like redoing it lol. i dare you if you can recognize where exactly i picked this draft up again. anyway, pleasee enjoy!!

also, sike, its not the last part hehe, there will be part 13 AND an epilogue

taglist (hi yall :'))

@chickencouncilrep

@venomsvl

@happy-nico

@twlegit

@ravenmedows

@blathena

‎

She had lost again.

That would be the third time tonight. Her change was getting thin and she predicted it would take one more game before she had to go kill someone for free again. So much for making a ton of money with this job. The girl watched her opponent spoon the coins from the table with one hand, laughing: "One more game and I'll have to dig up another grave, Y/N." Others laughed, so she wasn't the only one thinking that after all. It was logical, she really had to stop playing with grown men, they wasted away their old nights playing poker at this very table and she had other, young people things to do. It would be wise to get up and leave, no one would judge her for that. They would maybe even cheer her on, finally making a rational decision, no one ever seen that before when it came to her. Yet the thought of doing so was being blocked by a high indestructable wall, one that never goes away and will only be built higher.

If she does leave, she has to go home.

Her mother is probably fast asleep already, it is possible she could go to bed unnoticed and leave early in the morning. This option she used very little as Y/N never wanted to come back there. A year ago, after her mother left her blood soak through the wooden floor, Y/N made promise into her scars that she will never lay eyes on mother again. She successed in that for a year so far, becoming a hitman that was quite infamous in town. But her fame started growing from mockery, as she was really addicted to poker.

Her eyes gazed on Tim, the cemetary worker, the buryer as she liked to call him. He was one of the granpas at this table, but one of the peaceful people in town. He never wanted her to kill, just to help him with his work, although Y/N hated it more than the murders, she didn't like the aftermath of her work. Tim, being satisfied, started organizing the coins on the table. No, she cannot go home tonight.

"So what's it gonna be, kid?" asked the other player, Miyka. Her green eyes stared on Y/N's face, her wrinkles scrunched in excitment. Oh, how she hated all of them. The girl faked thinking about it before tossing dramatically her last money onto the table. "I bet 20." It didn't sound as good when she started that low, but it was all she had left. Intstead of the usual giggle and witty lines and jokes they threw her way before following up on her bad choices, they sighed, almost in dissapointment. It frustrated her, it seemed like they cared what she does instead of what amount of money she holds. It seemed like they cared about her. A wave of fear pushed her like a tsunami at this thought. People that cared ended up hating her, hurting her.

"What!" she snapped. Miyka looked at Lios, her brother, in concern, while Tim silently reorganized his coins. She looked around the table, frown getting deeper and frustration blooming wider. What was wrong with them. "Well, Y/N" Lios began, "We are just kinda...worried about you. That's all." Miyka took the word next- her previous question has been an obvious tease, the girl was dissapointed. "You clearly have nowhere to go, so you are spending your time here which is.... we get it, but." She sighed, trying to find the right words. "It's not good." Tim helped her and smiled at Y/N as if it would calm her. It did not in fact, she felt more and more anxious about their care, anxious situations made her angry. She wondered why she didn't kill them all instead of those free targets, she would never have to pay another debt again, because there would be no poker players left to play and her addiction would dissapear. "So that's it, huh? You ain't gonna play because you are scared I could actually win?" she said in her defense. Nonsense, she knew, but her heart was sweating and she was glad it didn't blow up yet. "We just care, Y/N, that-"

"Care?! Remind me Lios of just how many people I killed for you, then talk about caring for someone's life!" she spat as she stood up. Lios was more than content to her way of paying, she had no idea why he apparently cared when he could have another enemy at his feet if he just played one more game. Miyka tried to calm her down, touching her hand softly only for Y/N to flinch, hard. Her vision began to blur, the floor shook beneath her and sweat poured on her face. It was like the room was on fire, but she was the only one feeling it. Other people at the pub, being entertainted by the game or simply just hanging ot there, looked worried, some even disturbed by her behaviour.

What was happening to her?

She leaned on the table with her palms, the wood trying to ground her as she closed her eyes to not feel theirs. Voices of the players echoed her head as sounds in a cave and they felt distant, but still could make her more nervous with their caring attitude. They soon fell in whispers, driving her insane. Then, she caught one voice that silenced all the muttering, it was clear, quiet yet she felt as if its breath was in her ear. "Why play, when you can take a life for the exact amount of money laying on this table?"

She recognized the voice, it belong to the fourth player, Haltt. His voice was known only in the game. Hearing him say a sentence was unusual and therefore very powerful. It was deep, low, hard. It had authority and respect and it didn't need to ask for it. He had everyone's attention, he controlled the room with only his silent voice.

Y/N's eyes looked into his dark ones, she had to find them in the shadows floating around him, as if he commanded to them as well. "What are you saying?" she asked carefully, not knowing why. Haltt observed the table, his salt-and-pepper- although more salt than pepper- short beard surrounding his mouth as it counted the cash, then let out a little chuckle that brought goosebumps to everyone close to him. "920 Neredi. Being a hitman, a respectful hitman, would make this amount your pocket change." He grabbed the rest of her money she threw on the table and looked over to Tim. The buryer shook his head hesitantly, knowing what Haltt wants to do, but all it took was the man's neutral gaze for Tim to fold. Y/N watched him slowly scooping the money and anger took over. She pinned his hand to the table, not looking away from his face. She could hear people drawing breaths in fear, but she was free from all the anxiety now, she was grounded by his scary presence, she liked it even.

Haltt's head slowly turned to her direction, his eyes creating a straight path to hers, his eyebrows climbing up as he said softly: " You want this?" When she didn't respond, he stood up, took her hand off of his gently, not letting go as his freed hand reached behind his back, pulling out a gun. She observed quickly, it was an older model, it was small and only one bullet fit into it- however she knew a man like Haltt would only ever need one bullet- he then rotated her hand and placed it in her palm. He released her only when she seized it. Y/N let her hand warm the handle before looking up at Haltt again. "Then go make it." he finished his statement and sat back down in the shadows. Y/N checked the inside of the gun and she confirmed her knowledge about it.

She scoffed. "One bullet" Haltt nodded as if he answered to her statement. "That's all you need, I know your skills." his glass clincked when his rings touched it, raising it to his lips. She waited until he drank the remainings of his whiskey, having the suspision he might continue. "You kill the target, you'll get double of this." Her surprise was voiced by everyone around her, gasping and unbelievably whispering. Lios looked at Haltt, telling him he cannot do this. But Haltt only looked at her. "No one here wants you to play. You made them care, something a hitman shouldn't do." She squeezed her free hand into a fist, knowing his eyes are reading her like cards on the table. He leaned in: "Take your reputation back, make them fear you instead." he said quietly and it seemed only she heard it. He retreated back into his seat, letting her simmer in his words.

She knew people stopped perceiving her as a threat, a force to be reckon with, a fearful killer, and started to look at her as a 15 year old that sometimes threw tantrums. People smiled at her, old men laughed at her when they drank beer at the bar, as if she was their granddaughter doing silly things. Once, she was feared, but now she behaved like an old woman trapped inside a teenage body with gambling addiction and alcoholism. Everyone treated her as a kid she never was, but Haltt seemed to remember who she was 6 months ago, to trust her potential, her skills she never lost, but used them to not drown in debts, not to her job. She suddenly became so connected to him, she was hypnotized. The sound of the chatty room blurred again as she explored the gray ocean behind Haltt's eyes. He let her, grinning as he watched her back straighten and her nose breathing in deeply. Then came the question:

"Who is the target?"

Halt's smile stabbed through his cheeks as he answered.

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Inej didn't allow herself a break until she got the that exact building Y/N told her to. She was nervous to say the least. If everything goes right, Pekka Rollins will be dead. It was unbelievable to even think about. The moonlight caressed her back and the salty wind danced around her in excitment. Ketterdam is cheering for them, it will be better off without Rollins. She thought of ways how to carve his heart out, she wanted to make a heart-shaped hole, but it was too complicated making the curves, it would take too long and she didn't want him to die before she was finished. She needed something quick, but symbolic. After all, when the stadwatch will find his body, her work should be admired. Or Deln's work, she hated he will take credit for it, but it's definitely for the best.

Soon, the spider heard two sets of footsteps beneath her. She looked down carefully, confirming it's Y/N. In the dark, she couldn't much see her 'friend', but she could feel the disgust and fear Y/N had from above, suspecting he might not be an actual friend after all. Another secret of hers she wished to uncover after this is over. The way Jesper talked about this girl is riling up an interest in her. She wanted to get to know her better, her fate might not much differ from her own and she would like to hear her story, she would like to see why Kaz seemed to hate her so much. She also hoped Y/N will stay with them after this. For Jesper's sake and maybe for Nina's nerves as she looked worried about her.

As Y/N dissapeared into the alley, Inej grabbed her knife, Sankt Petyr, that she sharpened moments before. The wind picked up and she stood motionlessly at the edge of the building. She watched lightened windows in the Smeet Residence, hoping no one will think about looking outside tonight. The house reminded her of one she encountered at the southern colonies of Novyi Zem. It was in a horrible shape compared to this, but it was a haven for the citizens there, they admired it like people in Ketterdam admire The Exchange. It was luxurious given the state of the land.

Her train of thought stopped before it reached a station, because her ears picked up a subtle voice, then a laugh. The sounds got louder as they slowly approached her. Rollins must be pretty nervous of the meet-up if he talked to himself, or he was not alone. A slight panic rose in Inej's chest and she prepared to make the uninvited dissapear. If Rollins truly had some company, she would have to wait until he saw Y/N to take it out, otherwise he might see her and change his mind. If we won't do it, somebody else will brought out fire in her stomach. The girl was right, if they won't try the lovely dessert of revenge, others might eat it whole with no crumbs left. She suspected Pekka is the main character in many unfinished death threats and planned out vengeances.

The Wraith took a deep breath as her eyes closed, slowing down her rapid heartbeat filled with excitment. When she opened them, the bright windows from the residence, along with the dimmed lights on the streets aluminated two beings walking. One was definitely the leader of one of the most dangerous gangs in Ketterdam.

And so was the other one.

She silently gasped, panicking again, her heartbeat picking up. What the fuck is Kaz doing here? And why was he bent over with Rollins' hand around his neck. Even though they were right across her, Inej was oblivious to their conversation- well, monologue if she was more accurate- because she was way too busy feeling the plan fall apart. This wasn't supposed to happen, Kaz was meant to know nothing and then just cheer and celebrate once they'd be done. Why did he always took matters into his hands?.

When she came back to reality, they were almost in the alleyway. The spider quickly followed them, never taking her eyes off of Kaz's helpless form. Her hands always gently grazed any surface she incountered, her feet always landing on the tips of her toes, her moves inspiring every ballerina in Kerch, yet now her hands were sliding off roughly and she had to bent her knees to make the landing silent. Her fear of her friend manipulated her body and she almost fell over the edge when the sharp turn of the building made an appearance, luckily she awokened from the feeling and stopped herself.

She was above the meeting place now.

On her right was Y/N with the strange man. Y/N was anxiously pacing around, obviously worried as they all were, even the man next to her who stood still as a pole was taking almost unseeable shuttered breaths. When the girl faced her direction, Inej wanted to warn her of the unexpected turn of events, but she wouldn't be seen anyway. As it turned out though, she also wouldn't have the time to catch her attention in time as the target slowly showed up on her left side, Kaz still in his grasp. Up close she could see the knife he held to his neck, already cut into the flesh. The man on her right stopped breathing and tried to hide his widened eyes, Rollins smirked as he saw him, shaking his head in disbelief. But the tension really sparked up when Y/N finally saw them, her eyes instantly digging into Kaz, while his were already screaming at her. Only two words bound them all together as they appeared on every present mind.

Oh fuck.

---------------------------------------------

Silence started perhaps being uncomfortable for Deln, yet Y/N only cared about the boy 5 meters in front of her. He wore blood, a lot of blood. His face showed bruises for every Barrel rat and every drop of blood that fell next to his feet tore a piece of her heart. But the worst thing was his expression, it was no longer hateful, nor angry. His eyes sinked into her and they washed her with almost a relief-like feeling, like he was happy to see her, or maybe upset to see her here, in a dangerous street that will be painted red by more than one person. His gaze was soft, almost pleading her to either run away or get closer to him.

He was worried.

"I told you to come alone if my memory is still serving right." Deln began the conversation, dragging both of their attention to him. He earned a chuckle from Rollins and a response as he squeezed Kaz's neck, straightening him up: "Well, I thought I might get the lovebirds back together, eh?" The knife retreated back to his pocket, revealing a red line on the boy's neck. Y/N allowed herself to let one tear roll down her cheek as an apology to him. Pekka must have kidnapped him, because there was no other explanation on why was he present. Deln was confused, he didn't know Dirtyhands as far as she knew, nor about her time with Hertzoon. "Aw, look at 'em, already pining for each other." Rollins mocked and pushed Kaz off of his hand. Y/N had a hard time keeping it together.

Deln sighed annoyingly and the hitman was glad he kept the plan on track. It was hard to admit he was actually a big help to her. "Whatever, let's talk business shall we? It's cold tonight. Don't wanna be out late." he said offered and Rollins laughed in his face again: "What, gotta read the slaves a goodnight story?" If she wasn't still in shock from Kaz, the plan would skip to the killing part very quickly. "Well, not anymore since you took 'em all away, didn't you." the slaver stated and wiped the smile off of Pekka's face quickly. Y/N had to admit he played the role she made for him perfectly and let the conversation rest in his hands, as she continued to worry silently about the bloodied boy.

The Dime Lions' leader seemed to get upset about Deln's forwardness, he probably thought he could talk his way out of it with his disturbing charm. He put his hands on his hips and shrugged. "It ain't my problem you keep 'em in a dirty warehouse. I offered them a room with a comfortable bed and good money if they were willing to smile. That ain't no crime, lad."

"I'm not interested in your architectural opinion on my slave-keeping. I am upset you stole my property." Y/N was very invested in the conversation she almost forgot her role was against Deln. Her tied hands turned him to her side by the shoulder and pierced him with her eyes. "Don't speak of them like that." she warned and he simpy scoffed her off. It wasn't much, she must admit, but it was enough to voice her stand in this matter. "HA! And what do you think you'll be after we're done here? You will be lucky if I allow you to work in my brothel." the last sentence was a warning, he could be so much cruel to her, like he was in his house. She was present finally, all worry stepped aside to make space for the anger she held and the focus she held earlier tonight sat back down on her mind.

"You won't touch her."

Ready to speak, Y/N was taken aback by his raspy voice with scary undertone. He spoke to her like that, not long ago. It was almost unreal he was defending her. As much as it brought shivers down her body, Rollins was unfazed by the threat. "You can barely stand, boy. What can you possibly do to me." he stated the obvious and continued once he looked her way again. "Besides, she really isn't worthy of your protection." He put one foot in front of the other slowly, walking over to her. She was on alert, if she had the opportunity, she wouldn't wait anymore and strangle him with her tired hands and her desire to dig his grave. He stopped few steps from her and reached into his pocket again, pulling out something else than a knife this time. "Lost this?"

A thin, almost not visible in the dark, black string was held between his fingers. The bracelet she lost. The one Kaz gave her on the last day they saw each other. She lost it in Rollins' office. Her temptation to reach for it was unseen by Y/N as her first instinct was to look at Kaz, who also drowned in the vision of the string. She broke her promise, a childish one, sure, but it destroyed her still. It always served as a reminder of her failure. How she failed to warn him and Jordie, how she wrapped his heart around her finger without knowing it and allowed Hertzoon to shatter it. The girl promised herself to not mess up this promise, at least one thing she could keep. In the end, she lost it too.

How does she deserve to live after destroying all good in her life?

"Yeah, cruel isn't she? Do you really think she cares about you, or anyone for that matter?" he talked to Kaz that was still mesmerized by the sight in Rollins' hand. Deln was silently watching the scene, the situation out of his hands now, the plan off of track. "You don't know anything about her, boy-". " You're wrong." she interrupted him. He turned to her, waiting to elaborate, the string still lifted between his fingers as if he was trying to hypnotize them. "I told him everything." Y/N continued as she silently wished with the last bit of hope he would take the bait. He didn't:

"Everything, eh?" he echoed as he turned his back on her and focused on Kaz fully. As he reached his personal space, his hand streched to him, giving him the bracelet. The boy fixated on it, swaying with the wind due to his trouble standing on the one good leg for this long. Rollins watched him closely, feeling Kaz's hand taking it almost immediately. When his coffee-like eyes reached his snake ones, Pekka uncovered Y/N's lie:

"Do you remember Ms. Hertzoon?"

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"...You what?"

"Don't you dare be offended, you manipulated her and then left us. You're as bad as I am."

That made them punch her strongly in the stomach. Funny, Rollins wanted to watch her suffer, but was too lazy to torture her himself. They were on this for 2 hours now, or she at least thought so, she couldn't tell if the ringing was only in her ears. Rollins had her sit on a chair and then asked questions. The first were stupid and simple, almost like a small talk: Did she rob him, why is she back, when did she get back, etc. She earned 5 different punches in this round. Then the latter began. They wanted to know what happened after the con trick- as he called it- which resulted in her split lip and first blood drawn. Then another small talk, remembering all their time together and then, the truth. "Where is your mother?" it began and ended in countless of other painful things she couldn't be bothered to remember.

"How." he almost whispered, it was so dramatic that Y/N would laugh if she wasn't wheezing with every breath. "Oh, please. Like you care." she fully expected the hit for that one, though it still hurt like hell. "How!" he ordered her and watched her grow a grin with her painted-red mouth. She could still feel the little gun in her little hand, standing at the foot of her mother's bed. She watched her sleep for a moment before she truly aimed. Haltt was right, it did get back her reputation. He gave her the money and she counted every single coin to make sure it really was doubled. Fortunately, he was an honest man.

"One bullet was all it took."

To say she regretted it would be a lie, the biggest one in history maybe. She second-guessed it on her way home, sure, but she more doubted Haltt's promise than her actions. However, once she really saw her mother's chest rise and fall, nothing was easier than to pull the trigger. If she was a monster in her eyes, she would become one in her memory.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" was the last thing she heard from him, then her ears were filled with ringing and also pain when her nerves couldn't take it anymore. Everything went dark after a while, she was sure she couldn't breath and her eyes zipped themselves tightly, but even though she lost consciousness, she was sure she never stopped smiling while it lasted.

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He always suspected some part of her story was left out, it would be unwise to tell him everything and she was not stupid. While Kaz did predict that something happened with the mother, he didn't expect this. He answered her eyes as they asked for connection and tried to assure them of his unchanged opinion. So what? He also done horrible things, they all have, especially Rollins. Such a hypocrite, that man. When he finished re-telling the story of Y/N's torture, he retreated from the boy's space, fortunately for him, because Kaz would have no hesitation in twisting Pekka's neck. Everything was silent for a while, the wind whispered cold around them as they all studied each other. Kaz looked at the building's roof next to them, seeing only darkness, but feeling her presence. He hoped that whatever Y/N planned to do with Inej would be useful. And what did he know, maybe this situation is going extremely well for them.

"Well, that is truly shocking, but unfortunetely, Y/N's dead mom won't solve this conflict. So let's solve it ourselves, shall we?" The slaver spoke and grabbed the girl next to him by the bicep, dragging her with him closer to Rollins. Kaz took a small, unnecessary step forward as a move to help her. Seeing Deln's hand on her made the water rise around him, he could feel her discomfort and felt it himself. They stopped and he threw the girl in front of him lightly, so she wouldn't fall, but aggressively enough, so she would sway. "Pay me for the slaves and she's yours, as promised." the boy's fist turned white at that, wishing he could hang Deln's organs at the lamppost. "Hmmm" groaned Rollins in thinking. "How much do ya want?"

"3000 kruge."

"Pardon?"

Deln rolled his eyes. "It was 100 slaves you stole from me, every slave is expensive and believe me, I'm giving you a discount right now." Rollins nodded at his explanation. At this point, Kaz thought about getting out of there. He was being ignored and would be forgotten in a while. Rollins couldn't see him, Deln could, but he doubted he would care. However, she could too, and his heart radiated an unfamiliar feeling at the thought of dissapearing without Y/N. If this situation happened with anyone else, he'd be already at the Slat, drinking shots and drowning in silence of his room. Dirtyhands planned the escape, Kaz refused to go through with it. He refused to leave her. "Alright, alright. How about this." Rollins spoke his thoughts. "I'll give you half of what they make me from now on and if you ever wander in the Sweet Shop, you won't have to pay." Deln was silent, but he was clearly concidering it.

"Huh? Sounds good?" Smiling Pekka streched out his hand and waited for a handshake. Every set of eyes watched Deln's movement, from his step closer, closer to Rollins, closer to Y/N, until he squeezed Pekka's hand, reflecting his expression. "That's a deal, then." said the robber. "Deal." said the slaver. Kaz didn't know what that meant and from the girl's face, he could tell the confusion was shared. Although, he truly realized this wasn't part of their plan after Deln quickly reached for Y/N's belt with the same hand that just closed a deal, pulling out a small gun, one that could barely fit a bullet, and aiming it at the hitman. She was frightened, taking steps back, but she didn't got very far when Deln grabbed her by the collar, holding her close to his body.

"Like mother like daughter."

He was instantly on the move, as fast as he could, trying to prevent what was about to happen. The bullet was faster though. Before hearing the gunshot, they heard Deln's scream. Y/N felt to the ground and Kaz was at her side immediately. His eyes panicking, trying to find the wound while his heart sounded the alarms and awakened fear. Not like this. He couldn't lose her like this. He soon found the gunshot and without thinking threw his hands to press it down. They never made contact with it, Rollins' knife already found its way back to his neck, pulling him away from her. "You didn't think I forgot about you, did ya?" he laughed in his ear before Kaz threw his head back, hitting him in the nose. The grip got loose and he turned around, sending his anger and frustration in his fist. Rollins tumbled and he kicked him on the ground, getting him closer to the place he belongs.

Deln moaned in pain and the boy finally saw the reason. Below his bent over form, a puddle of blood formed and in it swam his thumb, right above Sankt Petyr. The corners of his mouth lifted a bit, he couldn't remember how did he survive all this time without Inej watching over him and the crows, it made him grateful she is back for now. His eyes were set to find Y/N again, but he only saw a red trace from where she laid. She must've gotten away. Good girl.

He couldn't follow her steps, because Rollins already got up from the cobblestones, ready to strike. He breathed heavily, supporting the place Kaz kicked him in with his hand. He couldn't understand why Rollins always came back into his life. He tried to avoid him all his time in Ketterdam, yet life always brought them together. Or death, he wasn't sure, maybe they were destined to destroy each other. Pekka Rollins was like a mosquito bite: itching to be noticed and when Kaz does so, he feels a brief satisfaction before the itch comes back and is worse than before. He was also as annoying. It needed to be finished right here and tonight

The boy braced himself and waited on the mosquito's move, straightening himself. Little did he know, the shadow from above already closed in on the man. Kaz watched as she kicked his knee from the back and caught his hair, stopping him from falling fully on the ground again. Sankta Lizabeta could be soon visible above his heart, the tip waiting to be pushed in. Only then, Dirtyhands quietly sighed in relief.

"He still can't do it without ya, huh? Tell me boy, when will you start being a man and do things on your own?" Rollins mocked them as he recognized the face, which currently held the future of his heartbeat. Kaz limped slowly closer, feeling Inej's eyes on him. He lowered his head once he entered Pekka's personal space dangerously deep. "When my brother will get his revenge in hell."

As soon as the menacing words reached Rollins, his lips twitched up at the sight of Sankta Lizabeta slowly painting an imaginery outline of the man's heart, being applauded by his blood-curling scream. Inej wasn't the one for torture, but he could see the bit of joy in her eyes and the relief on her face. She deserved to be the one that would free Ketterdam from this parasite and he let her have it, already searching for the bloody trail Y/N left behind.

His eyes alerted him when they caught it and he began to follow the path, slowly, limping as Deln's whines cheered him on.

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The stars were with her, sometimes changing their position or widening in her eyes as they waited to claim her. Salty waterdrops tapped her tired legs, reminding her of where she sat. She imagined death many times, it wasn't unusual for someone in her profession. She remembered Tim talking about the peace that comes with it, saying it is kind, so it would be easier for the soul to leave the body. For her, it was obvious. Everything would be kinder than life. However, nothing could prepare her for the last moments. Y/N realized that no matter how much you imagine it, it will always surprise you. The knowing that this is the last time she is going to exist in wasn't something her brain could comprehend. Maybe that was the mystery death held, that was the fuel for the fear in others, not understanding until it was too late.

Wind played softly with her hair while it kissed the bruises of her now untied hands, and she tried hard to feel everything at the same time. The clothes touching her skin, the numbness in her feet, her shaky breath as it entered and left her system, but mostly, she tried to memorize the pain in her stomache and the bullet inside her body. It was an intense feeling, so she wanted to feel it as much as possible, before it would fade and with it her heart.

The hitman got hit.

This is how her victims probably felt. She brought this feeling to numerous lives. Her mother felt this way too. Y/N couldn't decide if dying felt good or disgusting, but she could be certain it was lonely. Even if people surrounded her, it wouldn't be better. It was an experience for her soul, no one from the outside could empathize.

She wondered where her grave would lay as the slow footsteps got closer. Y/N heard him limp next to her and it seemed like the stars noticed him too, because they stopped moving once he sat down, as though they only wanted to be seen by her. He was visibly tired, still bleeding from his neck.

Maybe he was feeling the final presence too.

Maybe her starts would take them both.

Silence and the waves crashing made the space between them comfortable, maybe too comfortable for her liking. His breath was disrupting hers as it naturally tried to match the rhythm. The moment became so peaceful, she almost forgot about their history. It felt like nothing happened between them, they were just kids, sitting by the port, watching stars and listening to the ocean. They weren't Dirtyhands and Saskia. They weren't the Bastard of the Barell and Snowflake.

They were Y/N and Kaz. As they were always meant to be.

"Do you believe in faith?"

It felt like yesterday since he asked her that question. Every shared memory of them felt so close to her now, as if time was all messed up. Maybe death was already doing its job. Kaz was taking his time with the answer, breathing heavily, as if the air had to fill his words first before she could hear them.

"Yes...I do."

He exhaled, his low empty voice responding. Her lips lifted into a messy smile, her muscles were losing their power all over her body, but that didn't stop her from reaching into her coat and pulling out a folded, bloodied paper that her fingers swiftly grabbed from her slaver's back pocket before he could shoot her. It was almost bizzare, how a small, easily rippable piece made her revisit the demons of the past. She wondered if Deln wanted this all along. Maybe he wanted Rollins to kill her, so he could make his deal with him. Or maybe it was just faith, wanting to see how far she would go for a false sense of freedom.

"It doesn't mean anything." Y/N stated as she felt Kaz looking at the release paper. "I just needed proof that I'm not under anyone's influence anymore, but..." her eyes followed the ongoing waves. They looked like on a leash, as if someone released them, so they could explode onto the harbor's walls, only to pull them back again shortly after, reminding them they were still being controlled. It seemed torturous, humiliating. It looked like her. "...I will never be free of him."

Y/N couldn't look at the boy, even if his burning gaze could only be extinguished by an eye contact. He was right, she was a monster. She could see it now and she wouldn't hide from this fact. She would accept herself before her heart would stop singing. It was the least she could do with the very limited time, coming to terms with her own self.

The stars started moving again slowly as Kaz spoke: "He can't control you anymore..." His tone showed certainty. Inej had to claim her souvenir of revenge by now, but he still managed to squeeze out a scoff from the hitman. She couldn't believe he allowed himself to be so naïve. Rainbow won't repair the damage done by storm, same as killing Pekka Rollins won't erase his actions and the following conciquences. His influence made her do things beyond his leadership. It scarred her for life, and those scars bled onto others without the possibility to heal. She bled on him too. She killed his brother for fuck's sake.

"The things he caused precedes him." Y/N finally looked at Kaz, his eyes seemed to be glowing in her hallucinating mind. "I can't be changed." She whispered, knowing he would hear every single letter. The moon illuminated him perfectly. His features casted a soft look under its light and Y/N was glad this would be the appearence of him she would take to her grave. She was happy to become one of the stars that would continue to shine on him.

Suddenly, death seemed very pretty.

The girl saw his hand on hers before she could feel it. It was weirdly warm, even though he barely touched her. His eyes demanded her ears' attention as he spoke, slowly, so she could feel the words. "You don't need to be changed."

Her mind was confused. How could he even speak such things?

"I am a killer." she reminded him.

"Not by choice." he argued.

"I killed my own mother and enjoyed it." she was restless in making him hate her.

"Your mother's conciquences of her own actions." he dodged her attempt.

"I killed your brother." was when she knew she would win. It wasn't excusable. Nothing could possibly erase this from Kaz's mind, no apology was enough, she was certain. That was the reason she couldn't understand why Kaz's hand began to hold hers more tightly as his eyes studied the wound in her stomache, covered by her arm that desperately tried to prevent the blood from pouring out, but it became more and more hopeless. "You're dying and not doing anything about it." he aknowleged. Y/N smiled briefly, from pain and also from his slow understanding of her plan.

"I deserve it." she spoke weakly, every word felt heavy on her tongue and she was about to give in to their weight. He only observed her, as her body was slowly losing the ability to move, as her energy was being sipped by the waves below. It suddenly felt a bit scary for her, she was in the process of dying and it strangely ignited the last bit of her will to live.

Kaz did nothing, he only asked: "Why?" She looked at him, her eyes shooting fear. She guessed she would engage with every emotion before turning off. Maybe the nature granted this privilege to every person, so they would get to have the proper goodbye to their body.

"I never done anything good, I only brought pain." her lips responded, making Kaz nod slowly. Y/N gasped softly as the fear intensified. This feeling was unlike any before, like her life was slowly slipping through her body, through the wound. Her arm pressed tightly, as much as she could to slow down the inevitable, but it was too late. "Maybe it's time to change that." Kaz spoke. She wouldn't be able to change her ways if she died, the only thing she would remember about this life was how she made it difficult for everyone else.

Y/N sighed, death was almost touching her, heart was losing its music. She no longer felt the waterdrops on her legs and the stars dimmed their light. "It's too late."

The port beneath her began to sway, as if it would tip over to the ocean anytime. She gripped the concrete edge, slipping her hand from Kaz's to do so, trying to stop it from moving, only for it to sway more. She picked her eyes up at the sky, seeing only her five stars in the black treacle sky, as her body pushed closer to the waves.

Death awaited her.

Like those waves, Y/N was suddenly pulled back by someone's hands, feeling her body lift up from the port, supported in the air. Her form bounced with every other step and another warm breath kept mixing with hers. She imagined those arms were of an angel, bringing her to heaven. Or a devil, bringing her to hell. She gave into its touch nonetheless.

"I know you're not very good at keeping them, but would you promise me one last thing?" a voice asked her, a low and a tired one. One that could only belong to an angel the way it kept her dying heart beating. The girl could only hum, agreeing to the angel's request. The voice sounded serious, threatening almost, but she could hear the worry hidden behind it, as it spoke.

"Don't make me lose you."

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Nina whined, having trouble with breathing as her hands shook from the need to be put down. She saved the Dregs numerous times from a certain death, yet Y/N exceeded her expectations. The heartender tried her very best to wake her heart up, while Jesper and Wylan panicked to pull out the bullet and seize the wound, so no more blood would be lost. What wasn't helpful, though, was Brekker, constantly yelling at them for trying harder. She understood that his anger was powered by the fear for that girl, but that didn't put out the urge to fill his face with more wounds, maybe a broken nose even.

"I swear, Nina. If she dies.." he exclaimed again, not helping the situation in any way.

"It will be on you!" Nina barked at him, frustration clearly visible not only on her tone, but her tired features. Her eyes shot to Jesper and Wylan an apologizing look as she saw their hands bloodied and faces worried. The door swinged open behind her, revealing Inej. Nina felt relief wash over her as she saw her. Kaz would maybe stop being such an asshole in her presence.

"Is she breathing?" Inej asked and immediately moved to Y/N's lying form, putting her cheek above her nose. "Barely." Wylan answered stressfully. Kaz's worry shifted to fear, Nina could sense that, even when her full focus was on the hitman's weak heart. She was barely alive, but the heartender was still surprised it could beat. She was strong and Nina hoped she would continue to fight.

Jesper gasped heavily and looked at her. "The wound's sealed!" he sounded so hopeful and it brought Nina some strenght to see him like this. She had to take quick breaths before tightening her hands in the air one more time, fastening Y/N's heartbeat. Fortunetely, it worked. "She's breathing again!" Inej said with a small smile, causing Kaz to limp closer to see for himself. His own wounds weren't yet treated, but Nina didn't even try to convince him. He had trouble looking after himself when one of them was hurt, she could imagine how much worse it was in this case, where his heartbeat's fire was on the brink of death.

She could feel the heartbeat pick up to a slow pace. It wasn't yet normal, but at least she didn't have to control it now. Nina put her hands down and fell down on an armchair beside her. Everyone in the room fell victims to exhaustion, Nina closed her eyes for a moment, just focusing on her breathing. Wylan was the first to stand up and slowly make his way out of the room with the words she'll be alright, Nina, you did a great job. Jesper followed, squeezing Nina's shoulder and nodding shortly at Kaz, before the door closed after him too.

"You either let me treat your wounds or you will go and get some sleep." she offered to the man, her eyes fixated on Y/N. She was glad he, at least, wrapped his neck in a bandage during this hard time, but he had other quite serious wounds she had to treat sooner or later. Kaz allowed himself to be predictable as he stared at the hitman and then slowly limped out of the room. Before he did though, he surprised her after all.

"Thank you."

Nina's head snapped his way and watched him leave, she didn't expect that. Inej sat next to her on the armrest, following her eyes to the laying girl. "You should rest as well, I know how tired you are." the heartender studied her features with a caring look. Her friend fought the sleep well so far, which she hated to see. "I'm not leaving you alone." the spider said with a decisive eyes connecting with hers. She knew the heartender couldn't sleep herself, as she had to look out for Y/N's heart. Nina flashed a defeated smile. She was grateful for her presence, she missed her a lot, but it would ease her mind if she went to sleep. However, knowing her stubborn mind, she scooted over to the very side, creating a tiny space for Inej to sit, which her friend accepted with a smile.

"Alright then. Tell me how you killed Rollins and DON'T spare any details."

------------------------------------------------

[lorata]

Claudius & Eibhlin for @penfoldx

in which anthropological study subs in for discussing one's private anxieties

(h/t to attractiveness anon & @literallyjustanyurlatthispoint for partial inspiration)

it's @penfoldx's birthday! have some ridiculousness

also found at DW here

-----------------

The notebook lay on the coffee table, half buried under various tomes (that was a new word Claudius learned and liked to throw around, tomes) on rabbit husbandry, one corner peeking out just enough to draw his curiosity.

Eibhlin called them ‘composition notebooks’ and claimed every child in Three used them, which cracked Claudius up — imagine writing enough in school you needed multiple notebooks — but sure, why not. It was the genius district after all. She’d had to make do with recycled paper for a while after the war but now she could finally import the good stuff. Which meant Claudius kept finding them everywhere, experiment logs and local recipes and logical reasons why Brutus should let her keep a Village bear (pending).

This one, worryingly, carried the simple title ‘Observations’.

It could be private, unleashing the wrath of heaven if Claudius cracked open the cover. Or it could be a topic too awkward or embarrassing for Eibhlin to raise on her own, leaving this as the most convenient and least emotionally excruciating way of broaching the issue. The real question, which one?

With Misha, this would be deliberate psychological warfare. With Eibhlin, the lines blurred.

“Eh, fuck it.” Claudius flipped open the book. He could always cave on a fifth rabbit if need be.

Later that evening Eibhlin crept up behind him in the kitchen, impressively silent as always. Claudius resisted the automatic impulse to flip the chef’s knife around into throat-slitting position (years of post-Arena healing undone by ground warfare, now finally uncurling a second time) and laid the blade flat against the cutting board.

“Hold out your hands,” Eibhlin said. Her voice twinkled in a way that those who’d never lived with rabbits might call childlike innocence.

Claudius, on the other hand, shared his living space with several rabbits, and left innocence behind a long time ago. “I am making dinner,” he said without turning around. “Should I still hold out my hands?”

A pause, in which Claudius envisioned the pout growing like fog over the lake in early morning, and yeah, he thought so. “Misha says you are a party pooper.”

“Ironic,” Claudius said dryly, but while he’d acquired several mental illnesses over the years, finding ‘wee little rabbit poops’ endearing was not one he’d picked up along the way, sponsors save him. “I’m sure there will be more cute poops tomorrow. Do I want to know why you’ve been polling people in town about what they find attractive? If we’re hosting an orgy I should go out for snacks.”

Silence of a very different character this time. Claudius spent a long time cataloguing the pauses in their conversations, learning when to send for Beetee, when to backtrack and apologize, when to wait it out. “Ah,” Eibhlin said. “That was careless.”

“I thought maybe it was on purpose,” Claudius said. He slipped the knife back into the block and turned around, risking embarrassing Eibhlin with eye contact just to let her see he wasn’t pissed off. “Like one of those things you hid as a hint or something. I can pretend I didn’t see it if you want.”

Eibhlin’s gaze shuttered. “Don’t be asinine,” she said, her tone acerbic. “You do not need to insult us both. I am conducting — research. Anthropology. Desired physical traits in this district seem to be consistent in a way that extends beyond what I had assumed to be Village sampling bias.”

He’d been pretty good at keeping his expression neutral and non-judgemental, but Claudius felt his eyebrows creep up in spite of himself. “You mean we’re a bunch of lunkheads so you thought we were poisoning your data?”

Her ears turned bright pink. “I meant —“ but oh, looks like Claudius wasn’t the only one to pick up a few tricks over the years. Eibhlin stopped, narrowed her eyes. “You are attempting to distract me by manufacturing outrage. Despite the willfully reductive phrasing, yes. This is a community of athletic outliers. You are not representative. I have made many efforts not to generalize across the population, and so this one has surprised me.”

It felt absurd to have this conversation while Eibhlin stood in front of him with a handful of rabbit dung, and so Claudius ducked down for the compost bin. Stepping out of the way for Eibhlin to wash her hands gave him a second to think about whatever the hell this was. “Is it really so weird? We move rocks around and make guns in factories and kill people. Grr, argh, strong people hot.”

This time the impatience nearly skewered him. “But that is the point, it is not that. Perhaps superficially, for short-term liaisons, but not partnerships. There is a reason why attractiveness in Three is strongly weighted toward intelligence. Physically symmetrical but intellectually bankrupt partners will not create a stable or successful household.”

Claudius blinked. “Ouch?”

“Do not —“

“Okay, okay. “ He held up his hands. Three-stupid was not universal-stupid, they’d had this argument before and reopening it now wouldn’t help anyone. “So you’re trying to figure out what is the … biological imperative … behind what Twos find attractive?”

See, he could do it too.

Now she hesitated. He probably should have moved this conversation to the living room or found her a rabbit to cuddle before starting this conversation, but more fool him, now they had to have it in the middle of the kitchen with nothing to fiddle with but sharp implements. “Leaving aside the question of whether biological or evolutionary imperatives exist other than as excuses for the creation of sexist binaries — yes. In Three we value intelligence because intelligence is how we survive. I could not understand how brawn could hold the same value in your society.”

“Okay.” Claudius leaned back against the counter, hands braced but open, nonthreatening. “And?”

“It isn’t brawn,” Eibhlin said. “It’s — community. Care. You are a district of physical labourers and physical people, so of course you value those who can take care of each other with your bodies.”

“Sounds kind of like cavemen,” Claudius said, amused in spite of himself. “I’m sure Brutus would agree, though.”

“He did,” Eibhlin said, nose in the air with the delicate air of someone choosing not to take offence, as the bigger person in the room thank you very much. “And Artemisia, once she stopped laughing. She went home with many girls, but she wanted to marry Emory when she was young, and now she is with Devon. That speaks to type.”

“Okay,” he said, again. “I still don’t know what — you don’t just do anthropology. You have to have a thesis.”

Eibhlin’s fingers curled in her sleeves, which — Ah, shit.

This was the part Claudius hated. Speedrunning weeks of research and observations to find whatever tangled mess of emotions had prompted Eibhlin to do this in the first place, because while Claudius might mangle onions or spar with his mentor or call up his friends in a total panic when he had a problem, Eibhlin … well, she did science.

“Okay.” A third time, the jigsaw puzzles falling off the table and clicking together into the most terrifying image of a nightmare clown he’d ever seen, but also the clown was right in front of him looking sad and he had to be very careful not to jump. “So it sounds like … we have the best of both worlds? You’re a super genius and I — well, I can sort of fix the roof, if I have help.”

Eibhlin studied him in silence for several moments, eyes intent and searching, but finally she nodded sharply and the knot in his chest unhooked. “Don’t forget the cooking,” she said. “You have become quite adept.”

“Glad to hear it,” Claudius said. “You want to help? I was still chopping when someone tried to put rabbit poop in my hands.”

“Hm,” Eibhlin said, admitting absolutely nothing, and held out her hand for the knife.

[oxymoronicdumbass]

Hello! :3

I've been here long enough, and it's about time I've made one of these, so here goes

I'm a nonbinary trans guy, and my pronouns are they/them, e/em, vi/vir, and he/him

I am a minor, so don't be weird

LIKES :)

Dead Boy Detectives

Spider-Man

I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Hozier

Hell Followed With Us

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth

Cats

The Umbrella Academy

Writing

Sad gay books

Noahfinnce

The Smiths

Will Wood

The Front Bottoms

Art

Journaling

The color green

Pinterest

This is my main, but I have a Dead Boy Detectives side blog here @not-the-living-ghost

At one point a couple months ago, I did accidentally delete my account (don't ask me how; it was not one of my brightest moments 😭😭), so if you're a former mutual of mine, I didn't block or unfollow you dw sorry about that

[femmestuck]

ye i dont wanna like dump this on some poor persons ask but jesus fucking christ

my experience w the hs fandom was fucking atrocious

it turns out being harassed over everything from a nose being pointy to a man having eyelashes will tank your mental health, who knew?? i was paranoid, i was in a constant state of anxiety, i was crying every day, it ruined my relationships, i was Severely fucked up for a long time

one time a guy got so mad that i drew dave black he made a whole anti sjw blog about it and went to deviantart to continue bothering me there when i blocked him

the constant fatphobia goes without saying but also really fucking fun to read when youre balls deep in an eating disorder /s (again im fine now dw about it)

people would see a vaguely masculine woman or feminine man, assume they were trans and that was somehow my problem?? and they were always cis.

i actually got an ask about this exact same thing on my other art blog not long ago bc they couldnt send it anon here and theyre a giant quivering pussy and like, again, it was after i posted kan. a cis woman. based on a cis woman. PEAK terf shit.

i was just minding my business and people could not be normal about anything

anyway i couldnt even see the word home/stuck without having a panic attack until last year, it was all very stupid

[ozma914]

That Winter Driving Thing Again

(It's possible I was a little irate when I wrote this. Also, I'm hopeful the snowy weather is over for the season, but not convinced.)

 I contend that DWS (Driving While Stupid) should be a death penalty offense.

Of course, DWS isn't illegal to begin with, but we have to start somewhere.

Look, I’ve done foolish things while driving. I once backed an ambulance into a mailbox--and yeah, it was snowing, but it wasn't the snow's fault. I slid over a stop sign with a police office standing ten feet away. Snow was an accomplice in that case. I took a 1976 Pontiac Ventura off-road four wheeling – and no, Venturas were not FWD.

My youth may have been a reason, but not an excuse. I’ve slowed down, but others haven’t. Worse, the people who cause the mayhem often walk away uninjured, whining about how traumatized they are from the experience.

“It was horrible, all the kids in the back of my pickup flying through the air, and the nun’s body knocked out my tire alignment -- *sob* -- I almost lost my grip on my beer. Luckily I had my cell phone in my other hand, so I was able to call 911.”

"What? It looks fine."

 Sometimes–not always – drivers of big vehicles are most reckless. Why? Well, drivers of small cars are scared stiff. You think I’m going to tailgate a truck that has a spring loaded bumper aimed at my nose, and a “Honk if You Love Guns” bumper sticker? I don’t think so.

Second, many drivers of large vehicles thumb their noses at Mother Nature. “What’s a little freezing rain? I’ve got four wheel drive!” It’s fun to play the game where you’re passed by an SUV, then get to point and laugh at him when he lands in the ditch two miles on.

It’s the definition of False Sense of Security. Yes, maybe you and your truck will get through your 65 mph trip in blinding snow without incident. Angels watch over the foolish. Or maybe the next time will be the one when you’ll end up parked in somebody’s living room, with a Toyota under you that can now qualify as a throw rug.

Here’s a wild idea: Slow your ass down. A five thousand pound block of metal, at a speed that would terrify an Indy 500 racer of 75 years ago, is not under your control, even in the best weather conditions. Add to that rain, deer, and other idiot drivers, and you’ve got a recipe for bloody mayhem.

“That won’t happen to me,” you say. You’re a moron. Nobody’s last words were, “I have a feeling I’m going to get into a bad accident today.”

"Did you see that idiot?"

 Let’s break it down.

There are excellent drivers capable of maintaining control at warp 5, but they don’t live around here. If they did, they’d have died with a deer in their laps a long time ago. If you’re running late during a snowstorm and get behind a silver haired lady driving 35 mph, you have nobody to blame but yourself for not leaving on time.

Seat belts. They keep you from getting your head run over when you’re thrown out of your rolling SUV because you tried to pass that silver haired lady in a snow storm. Living is cool.

Carry a set of scales, and weigh yourself before getting into the car. If you’re not on the edge of starvation, wait until you get home to eat.

A lot of people try to excuse their accidents by saying they were “blinded by –“ fill in the blank. The sun, oncoming headlights, a brilliant idea, whatever.

We don’t let blind people drive. It’s what used to be called common sense, before attorneys had it banned. So if you’re behind the wheel and something blinds you – STOP DRIVING. Are you worried somebody behind you will be mad because you hit the brakes and pulled over? Fine – let them be mad at your very alive self.

They’re probably driving a four wheel drive, anyway.

Why do I take so many pictures from my porch? Because then I don't have to be in a car.

  (Remember, whenever you buy one of our books I can get gloves, and keep my fingers warm enough to write another one.)

http://markrhunter.com/ https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/"Mark R Hunter"

[berryunho]

honestly the best lore is when u make it random ass lore bits bc it gives joong vibes like... ur aware of all of it but everyone else struggles: torture LMAO

no bc i'd say the ult situation is relatable... but it's not... for me at least... i've always been kinda picky but also kinda instant?? LMAO IDKGJHFDSHJFDS i just. get to know the group ig and then there's usually one or two?? that i kinda gravitate towards and once i rly get to know the group i'm like oh. yeah it made sense. yeah ur mine now. DSJHSJHDSJ LIKE? (past bc i rly. only stan ateez. idk. idk how. don't ask) when i stanned bts i kinda knew them already but jungkook like stood out, n once i got to know them 'well' i was like yes this is it. also shinee's taemin, yes. but then we ARE quite similar bc i don't have many ults either! i've only ever ulted jungkook (less now), taemin (military pls give him back), wooyoung (this was difficult i rly did not want to give in) and now san too.. idk how it happened ajeshgjhdg

THERE IS SOMETHING I WANT TO KNOW HONESTLY AND IT IS ABOUT! COLLECTING bc u mentioned u bought a lot of merch during tour!!! so i'm assuming.. u collect yunho photocards too.. hehe.. do u.. i kinda want to start collecting woosan?? but at the same time i'm like, do i wanna go through that stress? not really.. but also i can just be a casual collector and make a wishlist n collect my wl woosan? (+joong?)?? BUT ALSO i have expensive taste so like. idk.

AND SO EXCITINGGG korea so soon and i'm SORRY i literally haven't started on that ppt but i promise u once i get my shit together i will bc i still really like the idea LMAO JUST DONT! K WORD SAN OFF BEFORE I GET THE PPT DONE PLS AND I PROMISE IM NOT STALLING JUST SO U LIKE. LE THIM LIVE. BUT IVE SEEN THAT OTHER ANON. AND NO. WE DO NOT WANT HONGJOONG TO KNOW. IT NEVER HAPPENED OK? OK? IT NEVERRRRRR HAPPENED. yk what. maybe joong would want to join. he's a cult freak for a reason. BYE ANYWA YHE CANT KNW BYEEEE

-san anon ily mwah

good morning (not for u probably yikes timezones) it is i san anon and i have not a lot to say BUT!!! I WOKE UP LIKE 30 MINUTES AGO AND THE FIRST THING I SAW WHEN I OPENED MY PHONE WAS THIS WHAT THE FUUUUCK AAAA idk if i’m barking or crying or both at this point HE’S SO! SO! SO CUUUUTE so baby i miss him ew

HIIII !!!!

PLESAJKLSEJKSJ youre so right like sometimes i forget that im the one writing and like ... what i say goes ... i have Power Over the Narrative ... crazy KJLKFJSDKFJ

but yeah lol i get it there are many ways that people come to bias their biases and i feel like your way makes a lot more sense LKJAFLKDJS but oh em gee i would also say that ateez is really the only group i stan ... like i have quite a few groups i listen to or groups where i know the members but like ...... idk i just do nawt care about any other groups like i care about ateez ALKJDFLKSJDF but no fr bring taemin back

AND COLLECTING !!! YES I DO !!!! i collect all of yunho's kr album pcs and then just fansign benefits/pobs that i really like hehe i only started in ??? january 2022 ??? so i dont have a complete collection yet lol but im not too .... stressed about it i guess ?? i definitely think that being casual about it is the way to go lol otherwise its just a lot of work and doesnt seem like it would be fun !

litcherally .... korea NOW ... sitting in my dorm in seoul as i type this im FIGHTINGGGG jetlag like i want to sleep so bad but its only 6:30pm KLJA;DLKFJSDLKFJ but omg so far everything has been so good and its just like ..... SURREAL LIKE WHAT . IM IN KOREA . HUH . but KJAFJSDLFKJ DW ABOUT THE PPT ! PLEASKEJALFKS lowkey i have hella writers block rn and havent been writing so .... as long as that keeps up he's DEFINITELY safe LKJDKLFJASD BUT ALKJDFKAJDF HONGJOOJGAJKNAGN yeah . anyways .

when you sent that second ask i actually WAS awake i think it was like 4am ??? and i had just gotten through airport security to start my journey to kr and anyways ! it was a good morning thank you and KALJDFSAKSDFJS GOD SO VALIDAJKSDLFJ PLEASE OBSESSED W THE EW AT THE END BC I FEEL THAT ALWAYSSSS WHEN I CATCH MYSELF SMILING TOO HARD OVER KPOP BOYSKLFJLS but anyways its valid to miss them im litcherally counting down the mf days until theyre in kr and have a schedule i need to lay my eyes upon them immediately .

ANYWAYS I HOPE YOURE GOOD !!!!! <333333 AND ARE HAVING A NICE WEEKEND <3333 ILYYY MWAH

[thepixelelf]

also "until the clock strikes us down" and "best laid plans" are very intriguing titles and i would like to know more!

so "until the clock strikes us down" is actually my wip for @escapewriter's cupid's clock collab! I feel really bad because it was due so long ago 😭 this is one wip that I'm like. even though I haven't worked on it in forever, I WILL finish it goddamn it

holy shit I've just written a huge block of text pls don't hate me

anyways the basic plot is that reader has a sort of a toxic friend (Jihye) they've known since childhood. (I'm still debating making reader female because a quarterish of the theme would be around toxic female friendship but I'm still thinking about it). they make friends with Mingyu around the beginning of university and eventually fall for him, but Jihye has made reader too insecure about themself to risk losing their friendship with Mingyu because obviously he could never like them back. one innocuous day, though, Jihye reveals right before your shared lecture that she's under a lot of pressure to get married from her parents, and also that she wants to get married as long as the guy is 1. hot and 2. loves her. so, she made a wish to cupid found an ad on craigslist for a magical cupid's arrow. her target? none other than heartthrob kim mingyu. reader protests that Jihye can't do that to Mingyu -- nevermind their feelings for him, it's a complete manipulation of Mingyu's autonomy! but Jihye just shrugs and makes the case that Mingyu is totally husband material and her parents would approve of him AND ofc he's hot. she points cupid towards Mingyu, and boom, he's been hit by, he's been struck by -- or, well... cupid actually shoots the arrow 24 hours after the "wish" has been made, so now there's exactly one day until Mingyu falls head over heels for Jihye. reader isn't aware of this, but cupid had warned Jihye that if her target already had feelings for her, they'd disappear once the arrow struck, but she isn't worried about that. Mingyu has liked you since a little bit after he met you (something she would never admit deflated her ego). it's a friday when this happens, right before a long weekend where Mingyu is going to go home to visit his parents during the rare couple days off school. he'd invited reader to come since they were just going to stay in the dorms because their family lives too far away to visit for just a few days, but reader initially said no. now, though, they realize this might be the last time they can see him before he falls for Jihye, so reader hurriedly tells him that they've changed their mind and want to come with him. (he's happy, of course) and basically we follow reader and mingyu through the next 24 hours before the arrow strikes, each minute angstier and angstier

sorry!

if you want spoilers to how I planned it to end, let me know!

=

"best laid plans" is a jibeom fic! I got the title from his lost stars cover, the lyrics being best laid plans sometimes are just a one night stand. it was gonna be a fwb misdirect where reader and best friend and roommate jibeom do the do and he confesses in the morning :] I've never written smut and I kind of wanted to for this, but I think I mentally chickened out lol

here's a snippet if you would like to read it :) (it's mature-ish so minors don't read past this point! there's no more to this post so dw about missing anything)

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Jibeom says. “You could stand to loosen up if you’re trying to… you know.”

You frown. “I don’t like the idea of leaving anywhere with a stranger drunk.”

“Hm.”

“Do you think that’s it? I’m too high strung? Too uptight? Maybe I still carry myself like I’m not open to anything. Everyone else is drunk, and even if I did get hit on, would I be taking advantage of the person? Since I’m sober? What if—”

“You’re not getting hit on?”

Pulled from your word-vomit, you see Jibeom with his head lifted, looking at you with his brows furrowed and something close to a frown on his lips. You raise your head up off the back of the couch and let your hands fall limp into your lap. “No…”

Jibeom doesn’t respond, still looking at you in that weird way that makes your skin tingle with… warmth? What is that? You should make it go away.

“Maybe I’m just not as approachable as other people. Or… I dunno, as attractive.”

“That’s not true.”

You feel the need to shift in your seat, not uncomfortable but something for sure, and the serious look on Jibeom’s face spurs you on to think of something you’ve never thought before. It’s stupid, but you straighten up, turning so your legs tuck up on the couch cushions, your body facing him.

“Be honest with me, Jibeom.” You press one hand to your chest. “If you saw me, across the bar, would you want to have sex with me?”

The effect of your words is instant. Jibeom’s eyes widen into moons, and he chokes on nothing, reeling back to stutter and gawk at you like you just asked him to hide a body. “Wha— what do you— What?!” 

“C’mon. Look at me.” You scoot closer, practically cornering Jibeom into the armrest behind him. “Pretend we don’t know each other, and you see me. You’re looking to get lucky and I’m right there. Would you want to fuck?”

[thisreadswhatever]

Not Like The Movies

part one - read part two here

[description]: steve x fem!reader, steve x robin dialogue, mentions of eddie & nancy, jealous/angsty steve, there is a happy ending (although it doesn’t really end yet), there will be a part two containing smut + eddie munson dw

[wordcount]: 3.4k

[summary]: steve is acting weird, all because you’re going on a date with eddie munson. but why would he care who you date?

[cw]: 18+, angst, slight fluff, swearing, alcohol, doesn’t follow the exact timeline of the show, no smut in this part

[an]: my first fic. i’m pretty terrified so please be nice! this is very loosely inspired by a fic i started and lost in the middle of reading, about steve being a jealous wreck. i wasn’t able to find it to finish reading it and that made me sad so here we are. it’s a little bit of everything, i don’t really know what my writing style is yet. honestly i have no idea what i’m doing but i worked hard on this so it would suck not to share it. i intended for this to be short but i got carried away. i’m sorry if it’s long winded, i kind of ramble. a lot. i didn’t grammar check throughly so there may be mistakes.

“Why are you asking me this again?” Steve had you trapped during your break at Family Video, while he interrogated you for the third time today.

You had gone over this so many times with him, you thought if you repeated yourself again your head may explode. “He’s a nice guy and we have a lot in common. Honestly Steve, why does it even matter?” You stood up from the table, kicking the chair from beneath you and made your way for the door. Sure, you knew you were acting like a brat, but Steve deserved it. You needed to escape the never ending questions you’d had since you told Steve that Eddie Munson asked you to hang out. He had been relentless, and his curiosity bewildered you.

Steve rolled his eyes, trailing behind you. “You have a lot in common with Eddie Munson?” He clearly wasn’t buying it.

“Maybe I do.” You shrugged.

“We have a lot more in common then you and Eddie Munson ever have.” He muttered it under his breath, so low you weren’t sure you were meant to hear it.

You turned from the doorway to raise your eyebrows at him. You’d been dealt your fair share of disappointment from Steve, but still the way he put you both in the same sentence made your heart race. It was because of how similar you were that you always knew you and Steve made the most sense. You liked the same music, hung out with the same people when you were in high school, even your parents loved each other. Granted he cared more about his social status than you ever had, but there was a reason you’d fell in love with him. And then there was the reason you couldn’t love him anymore.

Steve was suddenly ahead of you, pushing his body into the doorway, blocking your escape. At this point, you wanted to shove him through the door frame and never speak to him again. “That ship sailed months ago, and that was your choice, remember?”

Of course he remembered. It was seared into his brain and replayed every time he saw you. He could remember your eyes filling up with tears. He could see you frozen, cross legged on his bed, drunk and broken. But he could never admit to you how the guilt and regret swallowed him whole everyday. He remembered every second of that night, the night you handed him your heart and he shattered it.

He shook his head, trying to forget. “I just don’t think Eddie’s right for you. I mean, the dudes still in high school.”

That did it. “That’s rich coming from you!

“So It’s fine for King Steve to parade with children from Hawkins High ‘to try and save the world’ but I can’t go on a date with a twenty year old?”

“I mean, we kind of did save the world but-“ he stopped himself from finishing, because he knew the rest of what you said was true. It didn’t matter that Eddie was still in high school. He just didn’t want you to know the real reason he cared. Because to Steve, it didn’t actually matter who Eddie was at all. It just mattered that it was you.

“I’m going to the movies with Eddie tonight and you’re just going to have to get over it! Now if you’d politely move the hell out of the way, I have shit to do.”

“Fine! Whatever. Have a great time with Eddie Munson.” Steve, now clearly sulking, shrugged his shoulders and let you past.

For the rest of your shift, he pretty much avoided you. Steve would causally talk about work, but otherwise pretended you weren’t there. And although you were glad he’d let it go, you were kind of sad about it. He’d given up. But that was what you wanted, right? 

———

You were scrolling through the late returns log on the front counter, trying to do anything to ignore the obvious silent treatment from Steve. Robin and him were handling the returns boxes that had piled up from a busy week. The interrogating had moved from you to Steve, but this time Robin was doing the questioning. “What the hell is going on with you both today?”

“Nothing. Everything’s just great.” Steve was nearly throwing the returns back on the for rent shelf. “Unless your goal is to destroy the latest copy of ‘Ferris Buellers Day Off’, I’d assume everything isn’t ‘great’, Dingus.” Robin grabbed the returns box from him and held it hostage from Steve’s grasp. “Words exist for a reason Harrington. Could you, I ‘dunno, use them? For once?”

“Can you just give it back? I really don’t have time for this Robin.” He held his hands out for the box, and Robin pulled them further from him. “Only if you tell me what’s going on Captain Heavy Hands.” Steve raised his eyebrows at her, “‘Captain Heavy Hands?’”. Robin didn’t flinch at his disapproval, she just extended her arms and held the box further away.

“The last time it was like this was when y/n was drunk at that dumb party and then you both were acting so lame around each other for weeks. I mean I know we’re together a lot and there’s all this pent up testosterone or whatever hormones are going around, plus the whole ‘evil monsters living underground’ thing, oh and then there was those Russians and then the mall burnt down but you know, you really should just relax because….”

Robin kept talking, but Steve stopped hearing what she was saying. He was looking in your direction, watching you mindlessly read through the logs on the desk. He couldn’t help but stare. He thought you were perfect. Watching you twirl a loose strand of hair through your fingers. How your legs crossed over the chair where you sat, showing the bare skinned gap between your knee highs and your skirt. He could watch you forever. And then, he felt gross all over again. He felt like an idiot. This was all his fault. Knowing Eddie Munson would be using his hands all over you tonight. He’d be the one to touch your thighs and feel your skin. He’d get to watch you and your messy curls that framed your face. He’d get to do whatever he wanted with you. It could’ve been him, but nope, it was Eddie fucking Munson.

“Earth to Dingus-“ Robin was suddenly in Steve’s view, waving her hand in his face. She followed his eye line towards the main desk, where you were sitting. And just like that it clicked. Robin smiled. “Wait a minute. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

“What? No.” He shook his head, seemingly trying to convince himself. He had his palm under his chin, rejecting Robin as if she was crazy and had no idea what she was talking about. And still, his eyes never left you.

“Don’t lie to me Steve. Your face says it all. You’re jealous that y/n is going on a date with Eddie Munson. She told me he’s taking her to see Reanimator tonight. I mean sure I think it’s kind of weird but like, eventually she had to be able to go out with someone. Who knew it would be Eddie Munson of all people.” As she spoke she turned her head away from Steve to look at you. And then they were both staring. Steve continued to play dumb. “Jealous over Eddie Munson? The douchebag who hasn’t even graduated high school? Yeah, right.” Robin scoffed.

You just happened to look up to catch both of them staring at you. Gawking like you had something on your face. Staring right back at them, you gave them the middle finger, and smiled sarcastically. Steve rolled his eyes and took the returns box back from Robin.

Robin turned from your gesture, snickering to herself, and dropping her jaw to Steve out of your view. “Close your mouth Rob before you catch a fly.”

She closed her mouth making a popping sound. “Holy shit! King Steve is jealous. I never thought I’d see the day. Well stop being such a miserable mavis and go tell her! I mean what’s the worst that can happen? Other than what happened last time when she-“

Steve finished emptying the box while Robin continued on as usual. He wanted to deny his jealousy, and the guilt that consumed him. But Steve couldn’t lie to Robin. “Alright alright. I guess I am a little jealous.

“But there’s not much I can do about it. I already screwed that one up.”

———

For so many years you’d been best friends with Steve, and for almost all of them you’d known that you were in love with him. You knew it so much it felt like fire spread within your chest every time he was near. It felt so obvious to you, but somehow he never noticed. That was fine with you, because he was your best friend regardless, and even if he wasn’t technically yours, it felt like he was. That had been enough.

That was until Nancy Wheeler came around and then everything changed. He wasn’t your Steve anymore. The long drives he’d take you on stopped, the sleepovers you had ended. He stopped calling to see how your day was. You weren’t just no longer best friends, it was like you didn’t exist at all. But you got it, even if it hurt like hell. Steve was happy and you loved him enough to know that was all that mattered.

But then last summer, Nancy decided to leave him, and just like that you got ‘your’ Steve back. It confused and hurt you to see him pained by their breakup. It made you angry in ways you couldn’t explain to him, because he didn’t know the truth of how you felt. You had never told anyone. You didn’t want to ruin what you had. Until the day you decided you couldn’t hide from him anymore. You wanted to tell him just how much you needed him. How even though you pretended it was fine, watching him everyday with Nancy had felt like torture. And that watching her break his heart had broke yours too. You wanted to tell him that you thought he deserved more than that, and you knew you could give it to him. You wanted to confess it all, and hoped he’d sweep you in his arms and you’d go running off into the sunset or whatever, you know, the kind of stuff that happens in movies.

Maybe if you had waited a little longer, maybe that’s what you would’ve got. Maybe he would’ve been ready.

That night, he really wasn’t ready. Before you spilled your guts in a drunken ramble, he drove you both to his house after Matthew Sawyer’s house party. It wasn’t much different from any other night before Nancy. You finally had your best friend back. And while everything was as it should be again, the knowing of what the loss of your friendship with Steve felt like made you feel some sort of urgency. Like you could lose him all over again. Because he was back for now, but what if he found someone else? What if Nancy came back? Sure, he was King Steve after all, he’d go on more dates and have wild nights with girls you could only dream of looking like, but if he found another ‘Nancy’, you’d never stand a chance. You’d lose him all over again.

So through all your drunken thoughts, after far too many beers, you decided now was the time. It was probably the liquid courage, but it was now or never. You were wrapped up in his bed, wearing your favourite yellow sweatshirt of his that was way too big for you. Steve was sober, and getting settled at the tail of the bed, how you’d both usually stay during your sleepovers.

“Steve? Can I tell you something?”

“Of course. You know you can tell me anything.”

You unwrapped yourself from the sheets, and crawled towards him, sitting cross legged at the bottoms of his bed, staring with wide eyes right at him. He looked utterly confused. “What’s going on y/n?”. You took a deep breath, and while you tugged at the frail fabric of his sweatshirt sleeves, you spilled your guts to him for a solid five minutes. Talking in drunken circles and way, way too fast. When you finally finished your beer fuelled monologue, you threw your hands on your face to hide in fear and put your head in your lap.

Steve’s reaction was anything but your ‘happy ending’. Nothing like those dumb movies. He stood up, he paced for a few minutes, running his hands thru his hair, before he sat down in a desk chair across from you. You sat upright, peaking at him between your fingers which still shielded your face. You knew whatever he said next wasn’t going to be good. You wanted to travel back in time to ten minutes ago before you decided to open your stupid mouth. You wanted to scream where you sat. But you couldn’t move, you just sat there, frozen.

“You cant be in love with me.” He told you. “Y/n, you’re my best friend. That’s all we’ve ever been and all we will ever be. I’m so sorry.”

But, that was months ago, and you both had moved along as if that night never happened. The thought of that night filled you with burning embarrassment, so much so you had emotionally blacked out the fact it ever even happened. And it took awhile, but eventually, things were basically the same. Steve was still your best friend and he didn’t treat you any differently. And that was it. He was still ‘King Steve’, and once the heartbreak of Nancy subsided, you watched as more of his typical one night stands came and went.

———

When your shift was finally over, you said bye to Robin and followed Steve to his car. He always drove you home, and although he was obviously not in a great mood, tonight was no different. It was dark out now, and the drive home was quiet. Steve barely moved his eyes from in front of him other than the occasional hand through his hair. You kept playing with the radio and putting your window up and down just to fill up the dead space. It felt like eternity had passed until the car finally pulled into your driveway.

“Thanks for the silent ride, Harrington.” You grabbed your bag and went to open the car door when you realised you couldn’t leave. The doors were locked.

“What the fuck, Steve?”

“Don’t have a heart attack alright? I’ll unlock the doors and you can go have your precious date with Eddie or whatever. I just need to talk to you before you go.”

“What more could there possibly be to talk-“ Steve cut you off before you could finish. His eyes were glued to his own hands, still grasping the steering wheel in front of him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he spoke.

“You can’t go on this date.” He was so matter of fact.

“Why the hell not?”

“You know why.”

You could feel the rage inside you mounding again, and you didn’t know why you did it, but you threw your hands in the air. “Wow. Really, Steve? What the fuck is so wrong with him? Better yet, what the fuck is wrong with you!?” And that was it, you snapped.

“You haven’t got off my back since I told you he asked me out. Is it seriously that he’s still in high school? Talk about hypocritical much! What could possibly be so wrong with Eddie Munson that I can’t go to watch a fucking movie with him? Is he some demodouche from the upside down that’s going to try and murder me? Because at this point that’s the only possible valid reason you could still be talking about my dumb date!” You had your arms crossed around your chest now, clutching your bag so hard your knuckles were turning white.

He rolled his eyes. “Look, this isn’t about Eddie or any other horndog guy who looks your way. I really hate this.”

“Hate what? What other guys? What the fuck are you even talking about Steve!?”

He turned from the steering wheel so he could see your face, putting his hand under your chin so you were resting on his fingertips. “I want you, y/n.”

Just like the snap of a finger, the anger drained from your face and out through your toes. You instantly became a puddle of nothing. This couldn’t be right. This wasn’t the same Steve who turned you down last summer.

You pulled his hand from your face and watched him, searching his eyes, like you were protecting yourself from him. How could this be happening? You finally decide to try to and move on and now here he was, Steve Harrington, telling you he wants you?

“I don’t understand.” Your anger had obviously wavered, now you just sounded defeated.

His hands fell to his side, but his eyes never left yours. “I guess I always thought it would be you. Or maybe, I knew it should’ve been. I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think I could be with anyone that way, because it was supposed to be you. But then I went out with Nancy and-“ he was practically whispering as he finished his sentence. He felt awful for even having to bring her up. He scanned your face, looking for any sense of response to what he was telling you. But you were completely froze, impossible to read. “Once I’d experienced whatever ‘love’ was meant to be, and then after what happened, I just was numb to it all. That night, you had so much to drink, and well, I still wasn’t out of that numbness. I can still see you sitting there at the edge of my bed, in my sweatshirt.” He closed his eyes, shuttering at the memory.

“I want you, y/n. I always have wanted you. I was just, I don’t know, scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of what going there with you could mean because if it ended the same way my last relationship did..” He fell silent.

And then he unlocked the car doors. “You can go out with Eddie if you want, I’m not going to stop you. I know this isn’t up to me.”

You we’re still sat there stiff, frozen from the shock. You hadn’t felt this speechless since last summer. But here you were now, totally speechless again, but this time, because Steve wanted you. The serene bliss of your magic movie scene you had hoped for all those months before. And now of course, everything made sense. Why he had so many pointless questions about your date with Eddie. Why he seemed so upset by the idea of you going on a date at all.

Just like you’d used Steve’s silence to escape his questions earlier that day, he used your silence too. He placed his hands on your face, pulling you slowly towards him. You could tell he was apprehensive, expecting you to reject him at a moments notice. But he continued, he leant over the middle console, his eyes looking directly into yours, darkening as he spoke. “I mean it, y/n. I want you. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to give me the chance. But I couldn’t let you go without telling you. I want you. I want you in every way. And I want you now.”

You didn’t move at first. You couldn’t. Heat was radiating from your entire being, you felt like your fingertips could light a fire. This was all you’d wanted for years. And you knew you wanted him the same way he wanted you. But you were scared, and he could feel your fear. Somehow, you found the strength to move.

You reached behind you toward your door, and Steve felt his heart dropping to his knees. Just as he thought you were teaching for the door handle, you pressed the small black button on the window above it, locking you both in the car again.

———

read part two here

———

find my masterlist here

my work is also published on ao3

[pathologising]

OKAY. so. i am fully going to quote him in this. so last night we were texting (bad move) and he asked if we could meet up sometime. i wait a full 24hrs before opening it and repling, he txts back instantly. we talk a little longer, then out of the blue he says sorry to me? he says sorry all the time over nothing anyway which is honestly getting on my nerves at this point so im like bitch for WHAT and this mf says 'for everything i've done to you' like girl. i just say ':/ dw abt it.'

tjos MOTHERFUCKER says some shit like. 'i still feel bad and i still dont understand my feelings and i'm sorry for that' LIKE THATS MY FUCKING PROBLEM???? am i supposed to comfort YOU for feeling guilty about dumping ME? i don't wanna outright say that its not my fucking problem how you feel about your own decisions so i am as polite as i can about it.

he says yeah ig. and then sends me some fucked up little paragraph saying 'i still like you' and 'i promise u it wasn't ur fault' like THE AUDACITY. bitch i KNOW it's not my fucking fault how Dare you insinuate that it was????? why the fuck would i think that it was??? and why the fuck would you say that you still like me if yopu have no intentions of getting back together like ur best friend assures me u dont??

i send him a long ass fucking paragraph. i am BITTER! and EXHAUSTED w ur self deprecating bullshit i am not your therapist the consequences of your own actions are not my responsibility! 'how you feel about dumping me is not my fucking problem. looking at you made me want to cry for weeks, i had gotten over it and then you pull this shit.' i end the paragraph w/ a 'if you say sorry you're getting blocked' because i am not fucking comforting HIM for hurting ME. i finalise the message w ( in a seperate text) 'so to summarise:' and a gigachad meme saying i don't care. because i am a gigachad and i do not care. except maybe i actually care a lot just not about his feelings.

anyway i talked to one of his best friends who is also one of my best friends (yeowch) before deciding to send both paragraph and meme about which to send, and he tole me the ex sent it for closure. FOR CLOSURE???? MOTHERFUCKER WHAT ABOUT MY CLOSURE!!!! i was just managing to get over him and he just fucking. reopens the fucking wound ansd salts it for good measure!! i had stopped thinking about him i had stopped missing him and now this! and (he broke up w me a good few weeks ago) apparently he had been thinking abt dumping me since before valentines day. which at that point i had not seen it coming i thought he still really liked me so that rly fucked me up T-T

anyway. my closure is talking shit about him on the internet. bastard.

where he live let me beat his goofy ass